Although Sylvie had told her to “come back early,” Floralia’s first real challenge was how to quietly pass through the first-floor Hall and slip out of the heavily guarded manor.
The pale moonlight seeped through the narrow window slit at the end of the Corridor, casting silver-white lines onto the floor.
The dim light also faintly outlined the shadows of the paintings and iron candle holders hanging on the walls.
Floralia pressed lightly against the wall as she made her way to the stairwell, her hand gently stroking her elevated chest as she took a deep breath.
The air was thick with the lingering scent of incense, each breath carrying a tangible stiffness born of tension.
“Click-clack, click-clack—”
The sharp sound of hard heels hitting the wooden steps echoed quietly in the silent, dim Hall.
But to Floralia’s ears, those two steps sounded deafening.
Her figure froze, hesitating in place.
Clutching the stair railing, she peered cautiously downward.
Even with her keen witch’s eyesight, all she could make out was Sophia’s bedroom door firmly shut below, revealing no clues.
…So, Sophia is really asleep?
It’s so late; she couldn’t still be awake, right?
But what if—
Floralia, standing frozen on the stairs, was startled by the fleeting thought, her feet halting in place.
…If this had been Sophia a few years ago, she’d usually be in bed by eight or nine unless Floralia deliberately disturbed her.
But that was the “normal situation” years ago.
Times have changed; who knows what Sophia’s current schedule looks like?
Better safe than sorry.
Floralia rested her chin on her hand, pondering for a moment.
Then, gripping the railing, she lifted her feet one by one to slip off her round-toed leather shoes, hooking them lightly with her fingertips to carry in her hands.
Now, only the classic black long stockings covered her feet as she stepped onto the stairs.
Through the light fabric, Floralia treaded lightly, once again peering down the stairs.
…No matter how she looked, Sophia’s room seemed completely still.
It should be fine.
Floralia arched her delicate foot, landing softly on the tips of her toes, and slowly began descending the stairs.
Each step seemed magnified infinitely in the moonlit night; even the slightest creak of the wooden boards sounded like a piercing explosion in her ears.
She tried her best to remain silent, tiptoeing down the stairs.
Her fingers unconsciously clenched the cold railing, the metallic chill helping her maintain sharp focus and alertness.
The only sound throughout was her own heartbeat, pounding loudly in her ears like drums on the battlefield.
Finally, like a nimble little cat, Floralia quietly reached the bottom of the stairs.
When she arrived on the first floor, her heart pounded so fiercely it felt like it would burst from her chest.
In the spacious Hall, the Magic Crystal Chandelier was already extinguished, leaving only a few flickering embers of candlelight on the walls.
The massive oil paintings and decorative Deer Head Specimens on the walls seemed to watch her intently.
Under the moonlight, Floralia’s slender shadow stretched long on the floor, as if dragging and pulling at her ankles.
“Rustle—”
From Sophia’s room came a faint rushing wind and the crisp sound of pages turning—Floralia’s first instinct was to crouch slightly, bending low like a cat.
But as she listened carefully, those subtle noises suddenly ceased.
Strange, she clearly just heard something… was it her imagination? Or could it be—
Floralia swallowed hard, moving cautiously without a trace of carelessness.
Not to mention that earlier today she had just made Sophia eat crow, and at dinner, she had spoken disrespectfully, snorting arrogantly.
Sophia might be feeling pent-up frustration right now.
On top of that, it was late at night, Sylvie wasn’t around, and she herself was dressed in a JK uniform—completely different from usual.
If Sophia caught her like this, it might not just be a dizzying kiss; it might directly trigger a Battle Defeat CG—
The fabric of the stockings cushioned her steps, and the thick, dark red carpets in the Hall almost completely muffled her footfalls.
Still, Floralia was so nervous she didn’t dare even breathe heavily.
Her subconscious kept worrying that one heavy breath might alert Sophia’s keen senses.
So Floralia held her breath and tiptoed across the carpeted floor, skirting the tightly shut door of Sophia’s room.
The front porch was just ahead.
The manor’s heavy front door loomed cold and tall, like a barrier separating the interior from the night outside.
Moonlight filtered through the crack in the door, a sharp, pure white beam resembling a razor blade blocking the path to freedom.
If she could slip out this time, with the savings in her piggy bank and her connections, she could buy many useful things—maybe even cure herself fully and return directly to her peak!
When that time came, that insignificant little Sophia… would be the one punished till she was begging for mercy—!
Closer, so close… just one step more!
Floralia’s lips curled in excitement, her palm unknowingly turning damp as she carefully gripped the icy door handle.
—Click.
Without even needing to use magic to unlock it, the unlocked front door gave a faint sound of loosening.
Really… the front door wasn’t even locked?
Haha… little Sophia really is too young and naive.
This is truly heaven-sent!
Floralia held her breath, nearly dizzy with excitement—she could feel the fresh outdoor air rushing toward her, carrying the moist scent of freedom.
The young witch suppressed her trembling eagerness, took a swift step out the door, and then gently closed it behind her.
Her tense body suddenly relaxed, and Floralia straightened up with a relieved breath, gasping for air.
“Huff huff huff… goodbye, Prison!”
After catching her breath, Floralia turned to face the manor’s front door, a triumphant smile on her face.
One hand rested proudly on her hip, the other raised in a friendly gesture toward the door.
“Insignificant little Sophia, still want to bind this witch? Not a chance!”
“What did you just say? Witch? What door?”
The moment Floralia finished speaking, a familiar voice came from behind her.
“So-Sophia?!”
She shuddered in disbelief and turned her head to see Sophia standing there in casual pajamas, her calm yet slightly tired gaze fixed on her.
“Hm? What did you just call me?”
Sophia squinted, scanning the “Sylvie” before her with a puzzled expression.
—Something felt off.
“Uh… sorry… Sophia… Aunt…”
Floralia quickly lowered her head in panic, apologetic, hiding her face in the shadows.
“I told you twice already, call me sister.”
“Sorry! Sister Sophia—”
“Hmm.”
Only then did Sophia nod in satisfaction, but her eyes caught the cold sweat beading on Floralia’s forehead, prompting a curious question:
“It’s so late already, where are you off to?”