Genius Mage Chloe! (2)
"The western granary region's deficit is never due to drought, Father."
A cool yet childlike voice sliced through the heavy air of the study. The neatly composed eyes of a girl who had just turned ten swept indifferently over the papers strewn across the massive mahogany desk. Her porcelain-white fingertip pointed to a specific spot on the page.
"Cross-check the logistics payment receipts submitted by the merchant guild against the tax exemption ledger approved by the local lord. On paper, thirty percent of the harvest has simply vanished."
Roën's gaze pierced the dry ink stains like a blade.
"Look at the third-quarter transport logs here. If the poor harvest meant fewer crops gathered, then the number of allocated wagons and the mercenary escort fees should have been cut accordingly. But the maintenance fees claimed by the Stanley Guild match last year's bumper crop totals exactly—not a single shilling off. Unless they were rolling empty wagons through thin air, all that missing grain has flowed straight into black markets in other regions."
Her flawless numbers and logic traced an impeccable trajectory, suffocating in their perfection.
"They're using the weather as an excuse to cook double books and systematically siphon it off."
The thick brows of Lancaster Duke, the massive predator overlooking the vast eastern reaches of Argentia, twitched faintly.
"Bold for a mere merchant guild's scheme. You mean the local stewards are in on it too?"
No sooner had the duke's weighty question dropped than Roën answered crisply.
"No signs of forgery on the approval seals. This goes beyond silent complicity—it's active participation."
Decades of hard-won cunning flowed from the smooth tongue of a ten-year-old, deceptively effortless. With every word from Roën's mouth, tension coiled tighter in the duke's grip on the papers.
"Indeed. So the old foxes dared to gouge my eyes."
The duke let out a low, hollow chuckle as he set the documents down. In just a few months, his daughter's gaze had transformed into something utterly alien, like a lie made real. Too profound for mere early puberty, yet it hardly mattered. That brazen brilliance set his blood aflame with delight.
"Well done, Roën. My steps to the capital for tomorrow's imperial council will be far lighter now."
Lancaster Duke regarded her with a languid gaze.
"Speaking of which, do you recall the news that arrived a few days ago?"
"Yes, Father."
"The old serpents of the Orthodoxy dug up quite the treasure from some frontier mud pit."
"You mean the orphans secretly escorted to the capital's grand cathedral?"
"Exactly. A miracle blooming from the slums, they say. And a little girl about your age, just turned ten—how intriguing."
Tap, tap. The duke's fingers drummed the desk, ratcheting up the tension in the silent room.
"While I'm seeing His Majesty, I'll peek at this grand miracle the priests have tucked away so carefully."
Roën demurely clasped her hands, silently swallowing a dry breath.
She's here.
The wretched memories of her past life shot up her spine like lightning. The axis of this world, the eye of the storm. Saintess Elia had finally rolled into fate's wheel.
Suddenly, Roën's small, soft hands gently clutched the rough edge of the duke's sleeve.
"Father. May I come with you to the capital?"
The unexpected plea widened the duke's eyes ever so slightly.
"The capital? It's days by carriage over grueling roads—and without the railway open yet, even more so. Too much for you. Why do you wish to go?"
Under the duke's heavy gaze, Roën blinked her clear, large eyes in response. A meticulously calculated shell, chillingly adorable and endearing, bloomed into a radiant smile.
"I want to see the saintess!"
The cold expert who had dissected the ledgers evaporated. In her place sparkled the innocent curiosity of a peer, rippling over ruby-red eyes.
"Why the sudden interest?"
"Well... she's my age, right? I'm dying to know what she looks like!"
"You think the saintess is some zoo unicorn?"
At the duke's stern rebuke, Roën feigned childish impatience, puffing out her red lips.
"I'll have to enter the royal academy in a few years anyway. Once I debut in high society under Lancaster's name, I'll naturally cross paths with this saintess of my age someday..."
Roën noted the duke's mouth hardening gradually. Then, behind her prettily curved eye smile, she drove in the fatal wedge.
"If I approach first as a peer and friend with greetings, won't the church elders treat you far more warmly, Father? It could be our house extending a kind hand to the church first."
Beneath the ten-year-old's charming whimsy coiled icy calculus. Before the Orthodoxy could hide the saintess away, she'd forge the link herself—wearing the most harmless mask of a peer friend. This audacious scheme, weighing even the house's gains, perfectly whetted the duke's appetite.
"Hahaha!"
The duke, who had stiffened, finally burst into laughter. Unable to contain his pride, he gently ruffled Roën's golden hair with his massive hand.
"You're right a hundred times over. Going alone would have been so dull."
Rising from his seat, the duke cast a heavy shadow as he declared,
"Prepare for travel at once. I'll inform Edward of the rest. At dawn tomorrow, we'll head to the capital together."
"Yes, Father."
Roën gracefully gathered her dress skirts and curtsied lightly. As her gaze dropped to the floor, shadows cloaked her face. The bright curve of her red lips hardened rigidly.
Finally.
At last. At last!
Recalling why she had regressed, Roën gritted her teeth to keep her expression from crumbling.
This life, I will—without fail!
"Nom nom... gulp."
Hehe. So good. The sweet strawberry cream melts smoothly in my mouth. The pie crust is super crispy and nutty. I can't help humming a little tune.
The cathedral folks are the best!
The chair's all fluffy, and the room's nice and warm. It's been a week since these church or cathedral people brought us here. Mine and Elia's lives have totally flipped.
Just the food—worlds away from the stinky, hard black bread we chewed forever at the orphanage! Is this heaven?
"Chloe, eat slower. You'll get a tummy ache..."
Elia, sitting across from me, wiped my mouth with a white handkerchief. She looks all anxious, barely sitting on the edge of her chair, fidgeting nonstop. Her own slice of cake sits untouched.
Guess this shiny room scares her. Silly. With all this fluffy, yummy stuff...
"Mmm! This is sooo good! You try some too, Elia!"
I stabbed the leftover tart with my fork and shoved it right into Elia's mouth. She opened wide in surprise and nommed it down. At my feet, Kkamang wagged his tail happily, licking up the crumbs on the floor.
Proper training really works—he listens so well now!
Kkamang only eats what I tell him to, no more scavenging. Good boy deserves lots of food. Gotta grow big and strong.
-Creak!
Suddenly, the huge door swung open. In came a kindly-looking uncle in sparkling white robes embroidered with gold—looks super smart. He spots me, chuckles warmly, and bows.
"Sorry to interrupt your meal. I'm a magic researcher. You're Chloe, right?"
"Yup! Are you a mage, uncle? Do you fly on a broom?"
He burst out laughing at my question.
"Not a broom, but I do take to the skies now and then."
The uncle placed a candle on the glossy table. Oddly, it was made of black glass.
"I sense something very special in you. Could you help me check? Just light a tiny flame on this candle's wick."
Huh? Magic test? I blinked, fork still in my mouth.
What's this about?
I racked my adult brainpower. Hmm. A few days ago at the orphanage, one of them gave me a big orb. I accidentally chomped it—turns out it was a mana measurement stone. They all yelled I had infinite mana.
My heart pounded.
Me?
Right, this is a novel world. A pitiful cute orphan like me gets some massive cheat or destiny gift. With all those noisy blue chat windows floating around, it'd be weirder if I didn't have munchkin mage talent.
Okay, decided. Show off here, and adoption's in the bag for sure.
"Sure! I'll do it!"
I dropped my fork with a clink and jumped up, pointing my index finger straight at the candle.
The chat windows flickered wildly with their bizarre, glitched text.
Help? No need—I'm a genius girl!
What the—?
The instant I pointed, a whisper echoed in my head. Something familiar. Weird formulas and knowledge swirled in my mind!
Did I just get enlightenment?
I widened my eyes. Come on, mana. My body's infinite powerhouse mana, burst into flames!
"Mmm... Yap!"
In that moment, a dazzling blue orb shot from my fingertip.
"Whoa! It's sparkling!"
-Crackle!
The candle and part of the table vanished. Elia gaped at me. Wow, I really am a genius mage! But why's the uncle on the floor?
"Ooh... Lord above!"
He's even crying.
Wait, this...
Eek! I made the table disappear!
"Mmm... Yap!"
The silver-haired girl's cute little grunt landed softly on the plush carpet. The mage watched the mana trajectory with a pleased smile, expecting a speck of flame on the wick.
The next instant, his relaxed lips stiffened.
How can mana flow like that?
An aberrant, alien surge—no incantation even. The elemental laws he'd devoted his life to shattered brutally, crushing the room's air.
Invisible air particles swarmed mercilessly toward the girl's fingertip.
-Whirr!
Compressed space screamed as it twisted. Extreme pressure crammed atmospheric fragments into a single point. Breaching the limit, the squeezed matter shattered shells, fused forcibly, and unleashed savage energy.
Fwaaah!
A flash erupted, and atop the wick blinked a finger-joint-sized sphere. Not fire. It endlessly decayed and reforged matter within, greedily spewing infinite blue radiance. Self-sustaining, needing no oxygen—a fragment of light pulsing independently. Creation's law, fit for cosmic depths, descended onto this cramped marble table.
"...Ah, a-ahh."
The mage's jaw trembled uncontrollably. The sphere vaporized the candle in one gulp, scorning combustion itself.
-Zzzzt!
Even the sturdy marble table's corner evaporated into the void. A queer chill hit the mage.
Why no heat?
The room felt unnaturally cool. That world-scorching blaze was sealed flawlessly within the thin orb—no leakage. The four-elements theory had long snapped.
Thud.
The mage's knees buckled emptily.
No chant needed, and she birthed magic beyond fire elements!
Asked for a spark, she wrung sky's dust into a star. This girl before him reshaped cosmic truths by grasping mana alone.
A genius. Heaven's—no, God's own genius!
Awe welled tears in the mage's eyes.
"Ooh... Lord above!"
Whatever. "Uh... what do I do?" Chloe fretted only over the suddenly vanished table and candlestick.
"High Archpriest, Your Holiness. That just now..."
"I saw."
Before the observation mirror, the inquisitor's voice cracked with joy and terror. The secret chamber beyond the wall hung in stunned silence. The high archpriest's bony hands gripped the window frame to splintering.
Bloodshot eyes flickered between fanatic thrill at the dire miracle and cold calculus of harsh reality.
"Two geniuses have descended upon this land. Can our Orthodoxy truly control them fully?"
"High Archpriest."
"One new saintess taxes us already—now a child rewriting magic's laws with infinite mana! A blessing that might turn poison chalice fills me with dread."
The high archpriest roughly wiped sweat from his brow. To the faltering Orthodoxy, those two children were double-edged swords. Keys to seize the world, yet bait for vulture hordes.
"The imperial house and empire's powers will pound at our gates demanding adoption."
"Indeed. We can't hoard such miracles eternally in the cathedral vaults. We'll have to release them to find nests."
The inquisitor lowered his voice cautiously.
"What of the east or north?"
"Too greedy, too dangerous! Hand them over, and they might pick our bones clean. No house can safely shelter those fragile lambs."
The old man's deep sigh scattered across the floor—then the cathedral's sealed side gate groaned open with heavy friction.
-Rumble!
The Lancaster Duke's dark carriage, ruler of the east, glided silently into the cathedral courtyard.
As it halted, thick velvet curtains behind silver-inlaid windows parted gracefully. Cold red eyes flashed.
At last, we meet again, Elia.
Roën's indifferent gaze swept up the cathedral. Simultaneously, from within where that lethal stare pierced, another gaze descended.
"Whoaaa, that carriage is huge!"
At the lofty window sill, Chloe—mouth stuffed with strawberry tart—smashed her nose to the glass, peering down. In the deep shadow at her feet, Kkamang's ears perked up from his curled ball.
Across the height, the regressor's venomous red glare crossed the reincarnator's vacant purple eyes.
"Hmm?"
For a split second, Roën doubted her eyes. There—a silver-haired girl with chipmunk cheeks squished against the pane.
Roën's sharp glare twisted faintly in absurdity. So utterly trivial and harmless.
...What is that girl?
Oblivious to the regressor's quandary, Chloe mumbled brightly around her tart.
"Gotta ask for more sweets!"