The Idiot raised his right hand, gazing at the arm bound tightly in chains. He couldn't quite explain why, but the shackles seemed to grow heavier with each passing moment, sapping his strength once more. It was clear now—hoping to unlock their secrets through sheer perseverance alone was futile.
"Hey, what are you doing over there~~?"
Suddenly! A woman's voice rang out unexpectedly from behind him! Startled, the Idiot turned his head to find Queline yawning, drowsy tears still glistening at the corners of her eyes as she looked his way.
He picked up the piece of bread he had left on the floor and quietly returned to his seat in the corner. Queline leaned against the lectern, propping her head up with one hand. With a faint, playful smile, she said softly, "My dear student, sneaking out here to dance? Are you planning to attend the ball? But without a partner, you know they won't let you in~"
For some reason, Queline seemed even more sluggish than usual today. She yawned again, resting her head on her hand as though ready to fall asleep right on the lectern. Drowsy tears slipped from the corners of her eyes, slightly dampening her sleeve.
"Hey, who exactly are you? Ordinary labor convicts aren't weighed down with chains like those. And someone who qualifies for those shackles wouldn't be a mere child like you."
The Idiot said nothing. When someone starts probing into your past or secrets, you must stay guarded. That was a rule for survival.
Lately, Queline seemed to have grown used to his silence. She reached out and tucked a lock of golden hair behind her ear. Bathed in sunlight, her hair exuded a fragrance as fresh as a ripening wheat field.
"Hmph, still refusing to speak. Sometimes I wonder if you're actually mute. But honestly, I have no one to blame but myself. A noblewoman forced to teach here just to make ends meet… sigh~ If only I could find a handsome, gentle, and wealthy young man to marry and return home with. I'd be a sweet little wife with no worldly worries, sleeping until noon every day, never being dragged here to teach again."
The Idiot turned away, casting a glance at her. Their eyes met—and Queline burst into soft laughter.
"Ah~ Everyone has their secrets, things they'd rather not share~ Little gentleman, I admit you're gentle with your kid, which checks one of my boxes for a potential husband. But you're too young, not quite handsome enough, and poorer than I am. So unfortunately, you'll have to settle for being candidate number 100 plus one. If the hundred suitors before you all fail, then maybe—just maybe—I'll consider you."
Ding-ling-ling-ling-ling!
At that moment, the bell rang to signal the end of class. As the Idiot and Queline continued to gaze at one another, the children leapt up with cheers, throwing down their pens and dashing out with their belongings. Within a minute, the spacious classroom was empty, save for the Idiot, Queline, and the ever-sleeping Bread.
The Idiot watched her quietly. She was different today. In the past, she would rush off as soon as the bell rang, but now she simply lay languidly on the lectern, bathed in the warm glow of sunset, smiling lazily as she looked at him.
"Stay with me a while longer… as my assistant, will you?"
Queline smiled.
"Let's go get something to eat—my treat."
…
Though the Royal Academy was home to various dining halls and tea rooms, Queline bypassed them all. Instead, she led the Idiot out of the Academy and onto the wind-swept streets of Sand City. They wandered along the slightly yellowed stone paths until they arrived at a humble tavern. With a snap of her fingers, Queline stepped confidently inside.
"There's something I'd like to ask," said Anmie's voice in the Idiot's mind as Queline slipped into a familiar seat. "Why would someone as cautious as you come here to eat? Didn't you say that woman was dangerous, cunning beneath her naïve façade?"
The Idiot nodded and strode into the restaurant. "She is dangerous. She's fooled more people than I can count. But…"
Growl…
Unfortunately, his stomach chose that moment to betray him. He looked down at it with the same cold indifference he wore at all times.
"Pfft… hahahaha! Oh, I see! You came here for the free meal, didn't you? That old man barely gives you anything, and only once a week. So the moment someone offers you food, you run right over? Ha! You're just like a stray dog."
"You need strength to survive." The Idiot ignored the taunts and sat across from her. "A well-fed dog is stronger than a starving lion."
What followed was surprisingly pleasant. Anmie fell silent, and Queline waved over a waiter, ordering a few simple dishes. Judging by the menu, her everyday life was far from extravagant—only vegetarian dishes, no drinks, just the free hot water.
The food arrived quickly. Queline took up her fork and impaled a piece of cucumber without hesitation, eating with casual ease. The Idiot, meanwhile, selected a small portion of each dish into a bowl, then excused himself under the pretense of using the restroom. He walked outside and fed the food to the guard dog by the door. Once he was sure the dog was eating happily—showing no signs of poison—he returned to his seat and began eating in earnest.
Queline held a cup of steaming water between her hands. Perhaps it was the heat, but her cheeks were tinged with a rosy flush. She watched the Idiot eat with a cheerful expression, occasionally scooping some broth to feed the sleeping Bread in her arms.
"Little gentleman, we've spent over a month together now. And the more time I spend with you, the more I feel like you're wrapped in layers of mystery."
The Idiot focused on his meal. Like a sewer rat guarding its stash, the best way to protect his food was to consume it immediately.
"Right… what was your name again? The headmaster said it was… 'Idiot'? Is that really your name?"
By the time Queline spoke, the Idiot had already licked one plate clean. He glanced at her briefly before lowering his head and continuing to eat.
"Hmph, strength-wise, you remind me of my little brother. But personality-wise… you couldn't be more different."
Queline raised her gaze, watching the ebb and flow of people in the dining hall. She ate a few more bites, then laid down her utensils. There was a distant look in her eyes, as if her thoughts had drifted far away…
"It's been ten years…"
A bitter, self-mocking smile tugged at her lips.
"Back then, I was just a little girl—even younger than you. Hard to believe a whole decade's passed."
She shook her head and sighed. Then slowly turned back to face him—
"If I could… I'd kill that man this very moment. The one who destroyed my home… who shattered my family. Hey! You finished everything?!"
The setting sun bathed the room in golden light, and every dish on the table had been scraped clean. Soup clung to the corners of the Idiot's mouth, which he didn't bother to wipe away. He met Queline's gaze with unreadable eyes and spoke evenly.
"I accept your payment. And your commission. Who's the target? I'll kill them for you."
The corner of Queline's mouth twitched. "Huh? Commission? What are you talking about, kid? I don't follow."
The Idiot pointed at the empty dishes on the table. "You brought me here to eat—wasn't it so I'd take on a job? It's a fair exchange. I accept. Now tell me the target's name."
In the Idiot's world, trading a meal for a life was nothing unusual. In the frozen years of his childhood, adults would offer a few Inairs and task a child to stab someone in the back. It was common. Children were never suspected. Even a warrior capable of felling three grown men could fall to a child's knife, simply because no one saw it coming.
For those who needed someone assassinated, orphans were cheaper and more effective than any professional killer. Give them a pittance, and they'd obey. And if caught, they were unlikely to betray their client—either out of ignorance or fear. If successful, it was the cheapest way to erase a hated enemy. Unlike trained assassins, these children wouldn't show up later demanding more money.
The Idiot had seen it all. He'd been approached, offered such work. But he'd always kept his distance. That kind of money came at too high a cost. A full belly was no good if it got you killed.
But now… now he was ready. Ready to exchange someone else's life for a better future of his own.
Of course, Queline had no idea what kind of life he had lived. Even if she spent her entire life trying, she'd never understand how a child with no one to rely on had clawed his way through this cruel world, just to survive. To her, it all sounded like some odd little joke.
"Ahem… What nonsense are you spouting? That man is far beyond your reach. His name is Trait. A mid-level Essence Refiner. I've only just reached the first level of Heart Refinement myself, and I might never climb higher. You couldn't even beat me—how could you possibly kill him?"
But the Idiot wasn't listening. He had already lowered his head again, muttering the name "Trait" under his breath…