The main street of Honoral was wide, clean, and packed with people.
Wealthy citizens lined the broad stone-paved road, their faces beaming with smiles, barely able to hide their excitement.
This normally peaceful little city was unusually lively today, for the triumphant expeditionary army was passing through Honoral.
Everyone on the street whispered among themselves: which family would produce a new war hero this time? Which household would gain a noble title?
In a quaint little tavern on the corner, the air in a shadowy spot near the bar felt oddly heavy, as if out of place with the bustling world outside.
Lunaria Turner had been sitting there for hours. Her anxiety and worry swelled over time, and by now she felt like she might explode.
She had never cared about war or heroes, yet today she still came early to wait for the returning war heroes.
If all went as expected, her older half-brother—who had gone to serve in the army as a "Syrian summer intern" and had been missing for over three months—would return home with the victorious army.
If all went as expected…
Lunaria folded the newspaper she had nearly crumpled to pieces and downed the fourth cup of black tea she had consumed that day in one gulp.
She loved this tavern's red tea—it tasted exactly like a famous milk tea from some trendy shop—but today she had no time to savor the memories. She only craved the faint magic and caffeine infused with the tea's magic crystal powder.
Four cups weren't enough to numb an adult like Yue Yong, but for a child Lunaria's age in this life, it was more than enough.
Her heart raced, and a slight dizziness from low blood sugar clouded her mind.
She quickly rummaged through the large basket of food on the table, pulling out two butter-and-cranberry cookies and stuffing them into her mouth. Chewing eased her stress slightly, but it wasn't enough. The emptiness in her soul remained.
She reached into the small pocket on her waist sash and pulled out two low-purity magic crystals, placing them in her palm and slowly absorbing the magic within.
The sky-blue, fingernail-sized crystals quickly dulled. Her mind felt steadier now, yet she still sighed helplessly.
A thirteen-year-old girl tormented by magic addiction—was this a corruption of human nature or the collapse of morality?
"Child, don't pressure yourself so much."
Uncle Phil, the tavern owner, refilled Lunaria's special little teacup with milk and stuffed a few more cookies into her basket.
"Best's army is unbeatable. Your brother will be fine. Probably, that boy just got confused… uh, what do you call it? Right—the beacon. That careless lad must've messed it up again!"
"Thank you, Uncle Phil. You're right." Lunaria forced a sweet smile and took a few deep breaths to calm herself. She couldn't afford to have a magic relapse in public before her brother returned.
The sun leaned westward. Tiny ripples formed on the milk in her little porcelain cup. The ground beneath everyone's feet trembled slightly.
Soon, the chaotic yet jubilant sounds of hooves and footsteps reached the city from afar.
"Hey, little one! The soldiers are coming—go take a look!"
Uncle Phil noticed the stir outside and patted her on the back. "What are you waiting for, girl? Go on!"
"That child… barely ten, yet always wearing that serious adult expression."
A few middle-aged men with beards, modest but neat clothing, leaned from the bar and teased her.
The tavern's remaining patrons were too tired to join the crowd outside. They gulped their beer, treating the peculiar little girl who always sat quietly in the corner as a side dish for amusement.
"Don't mind them, little Lunaria. They mean no harm," Phil reassured her.
Middle-aged men can't resist teasing a clever, adorable girl like Lunaria.
She smiled at Phil and nodded, paying no mind to their jokes.
Her fingers were still tracing the woven pattern on the basket while she watched the jubilant citizens through the glass. After a brief pause, she set the basket down, pursed her lips, and stepped into the nearly impassable crowd.
"Uncle Phil, please watch my basket for me. I'll be back soon!"
"Go ahead. Your payment for dusting the little imps, plus the aged wine for your brother, will be waiting in your basket!"
Phil had essentially watched this Turner girl grow up.
Lunaria had not always been so calm and quiet. She had been a lively, mischievous child, with an older, equally naughty brother.
Their good father, Viscount Turner, often brought them here after school for dinner. Back then, the kids never stayed still, spilling plenty of Phil's good beer and keeping their father on his toes.
Sadly, Viscount Turner passed away young. After his death, little Lunaria changed drastically, suddenly mature and composed.
When she was six, Lunaria showed magical talent like her brother and attended the city's Primary Magic Academy. After school, she would come to Phil's tavern, drink a cup of tea, read a book, and wait for her equally gifted brother to finish class at Honoral Advanced Magic Academy and ride her back to the Turner Estate in the distant outskirts.
Now, at just thirteen, Lunaria had been admitted to Honoral Academy—the youngest ever. Phil felt genuinely proud.
But with the academy fifteen kilometers outside the city, the siblings wouldn't have much chance to visit the city in the future. Phil couldn't help but feel a little nostalgic.
"No matter how mature, a child is still a child. Even a prodigy little mage."
"Yeah, look at her running into the crowd just now. Still as easily swayed by war heroes and celebrations as any other kid."
Somebody laughed, raising their glass, and soon the tavern erupted in cheerful toasts. Though they had seen countless victorious heroes return, even they couldn't help being swept up in the festive atmosphere outside. Their eyes followed little Lunaria, like watching a black butterfly flitting into a sea of flowers, until she disappeared from view.
Finally, Lunaria squeezed through the forest of human legs and stepped onto the main street.
At the city gate, the first to appear was a War Archmage from the royal capital.
He rode a white horse, holding his wand high, scattering a shower of white immortality flowers and pale yellow dandelions behind him.
The flower rain was beautiful—but the combination meant nothing good.
It signified that someone among Honoral's conscripts had fallen.
Lunaria frowned and muttered, "Damn it!"
She had spent all afternoon reading the Honoral Gazette, and there was not a single word about it! A paper that only reports good news—ten copper coins wasted!
The cheers from the crowd weakened slightly as the yellow-and-white petals fell.
Soon, the horse-drawn hearse followed the Archmage along the flower-strewn road.
Whether from low blood sugar or magic withdrawal, Lunaria's hands began to shake uncontrollably.
Her brother—the one missing for three months—surely wasn't lying inside that coffin, was he?
Chaotic, unsettling magic leaked uncontrollably from her small body…
This was bad. She could feel the restless magic carrying the madness buried in her mind, slowly creeping out.