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Chapter 4 - A Gift

Around a minute earlier, as the elevator rattled its way upwards—pausing briefly on the second floor to allow another passenger onboard—someone had already noticed Rien.

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[???'s POV]

*Ku-chunk, ku-chunk, ku-chunk…*

[???] curiously stared at the girl who lay there against the elevator railing, breathing hard. She watched the girl adjust her tie, vest, and jacket, and even while she fiddled with her courier's cap.

The girl was objectively really pretty. Brown, short tousled hair brushed against the girl's shoulders while her dull grey eyes fixed themselves on the door. 

So young… 

The girl was probably the same age as [???]—at least, visibly, around 18 or so, and she was working already. Still, somehow, she looked fragile, like she was going to break at any moment.

The lights flickered and flashed as the elevator rolled up to the third floor. [???] watched as the girl ran off into the hall and into a room a couple ways down. 

[???] pulled her cloak closer to her body before tugging the brim of her hood lower over her eyes as she pushed the button for the first floor.

*Ku-chunk, ku-chunk, ku-chunk*

*Tsu-gu-gu-gu!*

When she arrived back on the first floor and the hustle-and-bustle of Majorie's Journalist Guild, she stepped out as soon as the elevator gates opened and snapped her fingers. 

*Snap!*

Her mana flared as her cloak whirled around her body with a swish and she vanished from the journalist's guild only to reappear outside, high up on the top of the great bell tower that stood watch and towered over the city. She made her way to the ledge of the bell tower's roof, where she sat down with a sigh.

The blue horizon stretched from one side of the sky to the other as countless buildings crowded the city below.

A white and light blue dress waved in the wind from under her cloak.

"This sort of work is too tiring… You know, I really wish I could catch a break," [???] whined. "Searching for a person who's supposed to be dead is surprisingly hard."

The cold coastal wind whipped her cloak into a fury. The long, navy strands of her hair fluttered around her face, snapping like banners.

[???] looked down at the city below as seagulls and kestrels soared past. Even the occasional coastal griffon or sky serpent flashed by ever so often. The magical creatures weren't an uncommon sight, but they tended to avoid human residential areas.

"Mn…" [???]'s expression soured as she noticed the small figures in black of the Archmage's constabulary officers down, down, far below her.

Soon after [???] left Majorie's journalist guild and that crappy inn, the officers had renewed their search for her. They got here fast, too… had she gotten sloppy? She'd thought she'd done a good job leaving no trail behind…

The Archmage officers' signature black trenchcoats and top hats could be seen all throughout the city like coarse ground pepper on a brick of bread—on the streets, on the bridges, on the roofs of buildings. They were looking for a 'tainted witch'—what they'd decided to classify people like her.

"Well." [???] smiled mischievously. "Since my dear friends from the Constabulary are here, why don't I leave something for them?" [???] laughed.

[???] stood, leaning before jumping off of the tower. She felt the wind rush around her as she fell freely, her cloak and dress whipping wildly. 

Just before she hit the roof of a nearby building, she drew mana to her fingertips and snapped her fingers.

*Ttak!*

Then she was gone in a puff of small black feathers.

A small, black vial dropped from where she was, rolling off of the roof and clattering to the ground in the middle of the square that surrounded the great bell tower. It shattered into a thousand pieces amongst the hustle-and-bustle and the paved cobblestones.

It was a while before—

*Squelch, squelch—*

—the liquid in the bottle began to take form. None of the citizens of the city seemed to notice the small creatures that emerged from the viscous, black fluid, quickly growing in size, worming and writhing their way towards the gutters that lined the road. 

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Meanwhile, Rien sat blissfully ignorant of the happenings outside in the city inside an office in Majorie's Journalist guild.

She was talking to someone…

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[Rien's POV]

"Rien, you know I can't keep covering for you, right? Honestly, I don't understand why you're still working here. You're a bright kid—even as a beta, you should be going to school."

'Even as a beta.' Like that was supposed to be an encouragement…

I sat on a couch inside the office of the editor chief of my team, Fritz, who also happened to be a close family friend of my parents. The room smelled faintly of ink, smoke, and the sea. 

Fritz sighed and rubbed their eyes. Their long black hair was tied back into a loose ponytail as they raised a cigarette to their lips. A red tie swayed at their throat while their vest was left open and unbuttoned. Soft bangs drifted in front of their face. 

"Hehe…" I smiled. 

My parents had gone missing a couple of years ago, which meant I had to deal with all of the de la Fontaine family's affairs by myself, not to mention also needing to earn a living. 

Over the years, Fritz had become somewhat of a parental figure for me, looking out for me. I mostly relied on myself and what I knew, but suffice to say I wouldn't be here today if it weren't for them. 

"Allumer." Fritz sighed, flicking their fingers and lighting the cigarette with a quick spell. 

They then leaned out the open balcony, watching the birds screech as they soared by in the blue and the vendors all clamouring on the streets. They watched the city for a while before turning back to face me. "Have you gotten an invitation to any academies yet?"

Chrysanthemum academy's invitation lingered at the back of my mind. "Ah. Yeah…"

Fritz glanced back at me and smiled kindly, seeing my expression. "Looks like you've got a lot on your mind, kiddo." They walked back into the room, taking a long drag on their cigarette.

*Clack, clack.*

Their boots clacked against the wooden floor as they walked over to the door and grabbed their brown jacket from the coat-rack.

Fritz turned back to me. "We're still on the clock, but want to take a walk down the pier and talk about it?"

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