The bells announcing the imminent opening of the academic conference echoed over Lakeheart Town, and many people dressed as scholars left their lodgings and hurried toward Weiss Academy.
The witch Coleridge also mingled among the pedestrians. She had come all the way here in pursuit of Alvis, a former member of the Scholars Tower, and judged that Alvis would most likely not miss the grand event held by the local lord for the Scholars.
Before the official opening, she waited quietly in Lakeheart Town for a few days, using this time to prepare various methods, determined to kill Alvis once she discovered him.
To enter the venue discreetly, Coleridge deliberately changed into a dark brown astrologer's robe. While the fabric wasn't luxurious, the well-tailored robe accentuated her tall and elegant figure. The collar and cuffs were embroidered with dark gold celestial patterns, initially resembling an academy uniform, but it was merely a makeshift disguise. A silver-gray belt cinched her waist, from which hung a small bronze astrolabe—though she knew nothing of astrology, this prop was enough to make her appear quite authentic.
The witch's white hair was as pure as fresh snow, gleaming faintly silver in the candlelight, as if bathed in moonlight. She did not deliberately conceal her striking hair color, but instead tied it high with a dark blue ribbon into a bun common among academic female scholars, with a few loose strands falling around her ears, adding a touch of softness to her appearance.
She concealed her hands within wide sleeves, her fingers long and slender, her nails neatly manicured, devoid of any of the ornaments a spellcaster would wear. She wore no conspicuous jewelry, except for a small sapphire earring on her left earlobe, which occasionally gleamed with a cold, eerie light in the candlelight. This gem was no ordinary adornment; it was a medium she used to stabilize her magical energy, but now it served as part of her disguise—to outsiders, she appeared as an elegant scholar with a penchant for cool colors, not a dangerous mage hunting her prey.
The witch followed the crowd toward the main entrance of Weiss Academy. She deliberately chose the most crowded time. Scholars carrying star charts and instruments came one after another. The first session was about planetary motion, and most of the attendees were astrologers or astronomers. They didn't even notice that an imposter clutching an empty parchment scroll had sneaked into the queue.
But Coleridge ran into trouble when he tried to get through the gate.
"Please show me your pass." When the college guard held out his hand to her, she realized that everyone else was holding documents with gold foil stamping.
Damn it, I was able to go right in just a few days ago.
The witch frowned and asked, "Isn't the meeting inside a gathering of scholars? Why can't I go in?"
Seeing the female scholar's expression, the guard guessed that she might not have a pass.
"It is indeed…an academic conference." Seeing her pretty face, he patiently inquired, "Madam, did you just arrive in Lakeheart Town?"
Coleridge nodded.
The guard explained, "The meeting is not open to the public during the event, and you cannot enter without a pass. You need to register with the Ministry of Education first, prove your identity, and obtain a pass from them before you can enter Weiss Academy."
Damn it, I should have asked around more! Coleridge felt a pang of regret; he'd been so busy preparing spells at the inn these past few days.
The fat man behind him, who was holding the celestial globe, was getting impatient and coughed a few times.
Coleridge immediately pointed to the arguing crowd in the distance: "Actually, I came to the conference with a friend, but I was delayed on the road for a few days, and he arrived first. If my friend has already obtained a pass, can I just go in with him?"
The guard nodded. "That's acceptable."
"That's good." Coleridge breathed a sigh of relief; she didn't want to miss any opportunity to search for Alvis.
"And what about your companion?"
"He went to relieve himself nearby, I'll go find him right now!"
Coleridge left the queue and began searching for someone who could get him into the venue.
After taking only a few steps, I bumped into a young scholar who was eating a honey cake, and strawberry jam got on his sleeve.
"Feel sorry."
The young scholar met Coleridge's eyes and his breath caught in his throat.
What a beauty! Her skin was as pale as milk, as if she had never seen the sun, yet it possessed a lustrous, cold sheen like jade. Her face was exquisite yet aloof, her eyebrows like distant mountains, her nose high and straight, her lips pale, like petals kissed by winter snow. Most striking were her eyes, deep and cold, a gaze that seemed to send chills down one's spine. Her long, slightly upturned eyelashes further enhanced the unfathomable depth of her gaze.
Scholar, captivated by Coleridge's beauty, failed to notice the fleeting glint of bright silver light in her pupils.
His gaze suddenly unfocused, his pupils dilating slightly, as if shrouded in an invisible mist. His breathing became even, his brows relaxed, as if he had suddenly fallen into a half-dream, half-awake state. Coleridge's voice gently entered his ears, each syllable like ink dripping into water, quietly spreading through his consciousness.
"This is my assistant." Scholar heard himself speak, his voice steady, as if he had rehearsed the words a thousand times. He didn't even look down at Coleridge, but simply turned to the side naturally, gesturing for her to follow, his movements as fluid as if he were already used to walking with her.
The two arrived at the gate and lined up again.
When the guard asked the young scholar to confirm Coleridge's identity, his eyes flickered for a moment, like candle smoke scattered by the wind, before quickly gathering into a resolute calm.
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He turned to the guard, his tone as casual as if stating a perfectly ordinary fact: "This is my assistant, Miss Lily."
He didn't even glance at Coleridge, but merely turned slightly and gestured for him to proceed. The guard's gaze swept over Coleridge's white hair before returning to the emerald badge on Scholar's chest, and he finally nodded.
"Please come in." He let them in.
Scholar took a step forward, and Coleridge followed with his head down, holding a parchment scroll to his lips to hide the smile at the corner of his mouth.
Scholar's steps were steady, but a hazy, silvery mist lingered deep within his pupils. As they passed through the archway, his lips moved unconsciously, repeating the phrase she had implanted: "This is my assistant, this is mine."
The spell's effect only began to wear off after they turned the first corner. Scholar suddenly stopped, blinking in confusion, as if jolted awake from a brief daze. He turned to look beside him—
There was no one there.
Coleridge had long since disappeared into the shadow of the pillar, with only a trace of frost remaining on his cuff, quietly evaporating in the sunlight.