"Good night, Leon." That voice still lingered in the depths of his ears. Leon Crawford stared at the ceiling of his lodging room, pulled back from shallow sleep. A birch-wood plank ceiling. The pre-dawn air of Nordheim crept in coolly through the window gaps. A voice calling only his name. Not calculation, not seduction—just that voice alone. How long had he slept? An hour? Two? Because he'd kept his formal shirt on, the fabric around his arms had wrinkled slightly. Then, a sound came from the corridor. Footsteps. Not just one. Multiple. And heavy-soled—the sound of armored boots. Leon sat up. Simultaneously, another sound mixed in outside his room. A sharp metallic clang. The sound of armor. And someone's low voice echoed down the stone corridor. "Seal all buildings!! Send subordinates to the loading entrance!!" It was the security captain's voice. The real guards of Greyfeldt Manor were moving. Leon reflexively reached for his sword. A knock. Thud against the door. "Hero, are you awake?" It was Godeau. When Leon unlocked the door, Godeau stood there with ledgers cradled in both arms. His light brown curly hair was slightly disheveled, but his fox-like golden eyes were completely calm. Beyond the corridor, torchlight flickered and the sound of armor grew louder. Celes stood beside Godeau. Deep navy travel clothes. Her silver-long hair was slightly mussed, but her violet eyes were the same as always—calculating. She held her notebook close to her chest, her white fingers gripping it tightly. "We've been discovered," Celes Vera said. "When," Leon Crawford asked. "Now," Celes Vera replied. "Emergency evacuation expenses. Recording by category," Godeau said. Godeau opened his ledger and ran his pencil across it. Leon started to speak—but at that moment, a cluster of torchlight appeared at the end of the corridor. Bad. If he spoke, they'd hear. Celes's hand covered Leon's mouth. The three of them froze. Footsteps approached in the corridor. Closer. Closer. Celes's palm was on Leon's lips. There was body heat. The scent of sandalwood intensified. Her violet eyes fixed on Leon's face—the intention "don't make a sound" transmitted without words. Celes's palm slowly withdrew. Her fingertips grazed Leon's cheek. As if confirming something, they paused for just a moment, then withdrew. The torchlight turned down the corridor and faded away. Godeau looked up from his ledger. "The shortest evacuation route according to the ledger is via Loading Entrance E. Estimated loss: eight silver coins," Godeau said. "How do you know that so instantly!!" Leon Crawford demanded. "During yesterday's tour, I quantified all building entrances and personnel placement. It's basic debt collection work," Godeau replied. Celes looked at Leon. Leon looked at Celes. Both simultaneously started to say "why" in low voices, then stopped each other. This wasn't the time for that. "We take Iris," Celes Vera said. Her voice was without hesitation. "I'll go," Leon Crawford said immediately. He spoke before thinking of reasons. Celes's violet eyes looked at Leon for a moment—then said nothing. Neither affirmation nor denial, just a one-second look. Then she turned her gaze toward the courtyard window. Leon climbed over the windowsill and descended first. --- The courtyard's stone pavement was wet with night dew. The morning cold of Vassen territory seeped into the depths of Leon's lungs. While Leon headed toward the tower, Celes and Godeau began running toward the loading entrance. Running along the outer wall of the courtyard, Godeau silently observed Celes's profile. The white fingers gripping her notebook at her chest trembled slightly. Not from running. "Was that library's research record yours?" Godeau asked, his tone flat while running. It was a question without emotion. But Celes didn't slow her pace. Her footsteps on the stone pavement continued rhythmically, her body low along the stone wall, checking the pursuers' movement patterns. Eventually, Celes answered. "Luminous Academae—a magical research institution in the academic city of Estrea, one hundred fifty kilometers east of Falcrest—a theory constructed over three years. A systematization of star-reading techniques. Stolen seven years ago," Celes Vera said. Her voice was different from usual. Not the whispered, calculated softness, but something closer to raw, hard-textured. Godeau wrote something briefly in his ledger. While running. "Did you plan to tell the hero?" Godeau asked. "Once the mission ends," Celes Vera replied. "I think the hero will have figured it out before then," Godeau said. Celes paused for a beat. While continuing to run. She didn't turn her head, didn't answer. --- Fourth floor of the tower. Leon climbed the stone steps two at a time and knocked on the door. "Iris, it's me. Come with me. We're evacuating," Leon Crawford said. Silence. Then, the sound of fabric rustling beyond the door. "You refused yesterday," Iris Valda said. Her voice was low and calm. Almost emotionless. "But the guards are here now," Leon Crawford said. Silence again. Leon spoke honestly. Without embellishment. Because he had no further explanation. He could tell Iris was thinking something beyond the door. A long three seconds. "...You have no words of persuasion," Iris Valda said. "I don't. Just come," Leon Crawford said. The door opened from inside. Iris stood there. White-silver straight hair, heterochromatic eyes—left gold, right silver. Her expression barely changed as she looked at Leon for three seconds. Then her gaze lowered to the hand he extended. She looked at it for three seconds. Then her cold, slender fingers touched his palm. It was a coldness that seemed to drain body heat. Yet Iris's fingers gripped Leon's hand. Just that. No words. --- The four of them converged just before the loading entrance when two guards appeared around the corner. Spears held, torches raised. Leon moved to draw his sword. Fighting wasn't impossible. But it would make noise. Draw more pursuers. Godeau stepped forward. He opened his ledger and held it out before the two soldiers. "A complete accounting of consumed goods during this stay. Please verify," Godeau said. Not a trace of hesitation. His posture was straight, his one-hundred-eighty-two-centimeter frame oddly composed. The two soldiers peered into the ledger. Numbers started from the first line. Second line, third line—breakfast costs to shoe-sole wear, densely written in small characters. The soldiers' faces stiffened. One continued reading. The other looked at his companion. For ten seconds, nothing moved. The four of them passed through the loading entrance. They ran. Into the cold pre-dawn air beyond the stone walls. "Why did that stop them!!" Leon Crawford demanded while running. "Numbers stop people," Godeau replied. His breathing wasn't even labored. Leon ran while holding his head. Celes ran with her hand to her mouth. Her shoulders shook. She made no sound. But her shoulders shook—she was laughing. Not a laugh that didn't reach her eyes. A laugh that reached all the way to her shoulders. A real laugh. Leon confirmed this while running. --- When they reached the forest's edge, Celes stopped. The torchlight and armor sounds were distant now. Morning woodland surrounded the four of them. The coniferous trees of Vassen territory stood blue-black in the pre-dawn air. Celes turned around. Not the calculated whisper, not the soft voice of the campfire night—a different voice. "I'll tell you the real purpose," Celes Vera said. She looked at Iris. She looked at Leon. Godeau remained silent, his ledger closed. "To recover the research record stolen seven years ago. And Iris—you were kept here for seven years as a test subject for that research," Celes Vera said. The forest air lost all sound. Iris looked at Celes. Her white-silver hair swayed slightly in the morning breeze. Her heterochromatic eyes looked at Celes quietly. For three seconds, she said nothing. "I knew," Iris Valda said. Her voice was low and calm. "So I tested whether you could be trusted," Iris Valda said. Leon murmured. "I was being tested?" Leon Crawford said. Iris looked at Leon. A beat passed. "...You passed," Iris Valda said. Leon started to say something. At that moment— "Touching, but there are two archers thirty meters behind us," Godeau said. Everyone ran. Through the gaps in the woodland. Feet slipped on damp fallen leaves. Branches grazed faces. Godeau led the way, indicating direction. Almost to the carriage—then. The sound of a bowstring. An arrow flew. Its trajectory toward Leon. Before Leon himself could react, a silver shadow stepped sideways. Celes took the arrow on her shoulder. The white fabric of her formal wear stained with a single line of red. Celes's feet wavered. Leon turned—his body moved before his head could think. He didn't deliberate. Words and timing didn't matter. Leon pulled Celes's shoulders toward him and held her against his chest. Silver hair touched his jaw. The sandalwood scent intensified in the sudden closeness. Celes's body temperature was—colder than he'd thought. Much colder. Every time their arms had touched before, he'd felt her warmth, but he'd never realized how different it would be at this distance. The body heat gradually stolen each time she used Mana—the price of magic. Leon felt it now, for the first time, with perfect clarity. Celes's entire body tensed for a moment. Then, quietly, she relaxed. Her forehead touched his chest. Silver hair fell across his neck. Celes spoke softly toward his chest. "You could have dodged even if I hadn't moved," Celes Vera said. Leon answered quietly. "Shut up," Leon Crawford said. The same quality as his voice during training. That was all. "I'll record the contact duration and contact surface area in the ledger," Godeau said. Iris looked toward Godeau. White-silver and gold eyes turned toward him. "...Be quiet for now," Iris Valda said. Her voice was emotionless, but it was a command. Godeau paused for a beat. He closed his ledger. A small click. The second time he'd "closed" it since the journey began. Celes slowly withdrew from Leon's chest. That withdrawal was slow. Neither of them pointed it out. The four of them reached the carriage after losing their pursuers. --- Before the fireplace at the White Birch Inn. The four of them had settled by the time dawn light began touching Nordheim's stone pavement. Godeau opened his ledger. His opening statement. "Evacuation expenses, loading entrance damage compensation, formal wear repair costs, arrow recovery fees. Total: seventeen additional gold coins to the journey expenses," Godeau said. "Arrow recovery fees?!" Leon Crawford demanded. "Evidence material," Godeau replied. "You said we couldn't recover it so it was a loss, but now you're calling it evidence material?! Say evidence material from the start!! Which is it?!" Leon Crawford demanded. "Both," Godeau said. "How is it both?!" Leon Crawford demanded. Celes lowered herself into a chair before the fireplace and spoke quietly. "As promised, I'll cancel your debt. However, the new debt from travel expenses is a separate account," Celes Vera said. "Of course it is!!" Leon Crawford said. The fireplace crackled. Orange light illuminated the four faces. The birch-wood walls absorbed the warm color, making the White Birch Inn's parlor seem slightly brighter. Iris watched the flames. Her white-silver hair caught the firelight, tinted faintly orange. Even amid the commotion, Iris had barely reacted. She simply watched the flames. Then her mouth corner moved. Not by a millimeter—a clear change in expression. Leon noticed. "Did you just laugh?" Leon Crawford asked. "I'm not laughing," Iris Valda replied immediately. But she continued, still watching the flames. "...I had forgotten how to laugh," Iris Valda said. The fireplace received th