The diagnosis returned a definitive verdict: there was absolutely no issue. There were no lingering traces of recent arcane pollution, mental interference, or external suggestion acting upon either the veteran operative or his young son.
Since neither of them exhibited the slightest symptom of sensory manipulation, why on earth had their minds arrived at two completely separate visual conclusions?
Right at that moment, the field agent who had been dispatched into the streets to maintain the surveillance ran back through the doors in a state of sheer panic. "Reporting to Captain Charles! We have combed the immediate sector, but we found no target group that matches or even remotely resembles the physical criteria you described."
Hearing the report, Captain Charles stood up abruptly from his wooden seat. From the exact moment he had stepped into the safehouse to deliver the descriptions to the time the field team had deployed, less than a minute had elapsed. Logically speaking, three targets traveling on foot at a leisurely pace couldn't have vanished beyond the radius of the local streets so quickly. Furthermore, they had been in a state of relaxed sightseeing; it was highly improbable that they had suddenly sprinted away. The avenue outside was long, straight, and offered minimal cover, meaning they couldn't have broken line of sight in either direction within a mere sixty seconds.
He turned a sharp glare toward his son. "Repeat every single detail of the three figures you observed in the park."
After the youth rapidly reiterated the precise descriptions of the teenage trio, Charles looked back at the field agent. "Did you encounter anyone along the thoroughfare matching those exact traits?"
The agent shook his head firmly, indicating the perimeter was entirely devoid of such individuals.
Now, Captain Charles found himself completely stumped. What under the sun was actually transpiring out there?
Suddenly, a flash of pure inspiration struck his mind. "Were there any groups composed of exactly three women walking together, regardless of age?!"
Yet, the definitive answer he received was, "No, sir."
"How is that even possible!" Captain Charles could no longer maintain his composure. He instructed the boy to remain within the safety of the safehouse, then physically bolted through the doorway himself. He sprinted in the direction Flandre and her group had originally been traveling, but no matter how hard he scanned the crowd, the targets were nowhere to be found.
Rewinding the scene to a short while earlier.
Just as Captain Charles had vanished into the boutique with the child, Hong Meiling had quietly delivered the news of his departure to her companions.
Upon hearing that their tracker had slipped away, Flandre's eyes danced with mischief. She immediately suggested that since the agent was currently out of sight, they should simply refresh the parameters of the Confusion Charm. That way, the moment the man emerged to resume his tail, his mind would be searching for a completely different set of visual cues, making it impossible to locate them.
Clever, walking alongside them, offered a practical critique. "Even with altered faces, three women walking in tight formation remains a highly conspicuous signature along this avenue. If the operative realizes he is dealing with an illusion, he could easily filter the crowd based on our numbers alone."
Flandre let out a smug, confident laugh. "The structural mechanics of the Confusion Charm aren't limited to mere facial adjustments and clothing swaps; it can alter perceived gender just as easily."
True to her word, from the exact moment she channeled her energy to update the ward, the illusion shifted seamlessly. Anyone looking in their direction would no longer register three women, but rather two men and a single woman traveling down the path.
Hong Meiling's voice drifted over from a few paces back. "The specific count of 'three' could still present a minor risk to our safety. Let us split our physical distance. The two of you continue ahead, and I shall maintain a steady interval behind your position."
"But if we separate by too many meters, how are we supposed to communicate without drawing attention?" Clever realized the flaw the moment the words left her mouth, but a sudden smile touched her face as she remembered her own capabilities.
Channelling her unique Originium Arts, she subtly anchored a resonance between the three of them, establishing a secure, silent communication loop that linked their minds across the busy street.
A few brief minutes were certainly insufficient for the party to physically exit the commercial district, but it provided more than enough time for their appearances to completely transform in the eyes of the public. By the time Captain Charles charged back out onto the cobblestones, the trio had thoroughly integrated into the scenery. Flandre and Clever were strolling side by side, projecting the image of a young man and a woman sharing a casual conversation. Meanwhile, Hong Meiling—now appearing as a tall, robust man—followed roughly five meters behind them.
With the heavy flow of pedestrians weaving across the avenue, it was virtually impossible for a casual observer to deduce that the solitary man trailing behind was actually operating in tandem with the pair up front.
Captain Charles brushed right past the three of them, his frantic gaze scanning right over their shoulders without processing a single red flag.
Hong Meiling, naturally, spotted his frantic movements instantly and pointed him out to her companions through the mental link. The three travelers quietly watched as the sweat-drenched captain paced back and forth across the paving stones like a headless fly, repeating his path several times. He walked within arm's reach of their group on more than one occasion, yet failed entirely to recognize the prize right beneath his nose. After several fruitless sweeps of the sector, he could only retreat back toward his outpost in utter disappointment.
With the immediate threat neutralized, Flandre and her companions turned the corner onto a neighboring avenue.
"Is that a municipal concert hall up ahead? It looks as though a formal performance is underway. Should we step inside to observe?" Clever asked, gesturing toward a large crowd forming a neat line outside a grand stone structure.
"Yes, absolutely!" Flandre agreed excitedly.
The three of them joined the rear of the queue, secured their admission tickets, and quietly slipped into the grand auditorium. The performance had already commenced by the time they took their places. Fortunately, their designated seats were located near the back rows of the lower tier, meaning their late entry didn't disrupt the focus of the audience or the musicians on stage.
After settling into her seat, Flandre focused her attention on the stage. The melody drifting through the hall was undeniably beautiful, but what intrigued her most was the bizarre aesthetic on display: every single musician on the platform was wearing an ornate, rigid mask. Furthermore, occupying the primary row directly below the stage sat a solemn group of individuals who behaved less like standard patrons and more like an elite panel of examiners. They held heavy leather notebooks, their eyes locked onto the stage as they meticulously evaluated every note and movement.
"Huh, why is the layout arranged like this?" Flandre inquired curiously through their private communication channel.
"You failed to observe the placard at the grand entrance when we walked through," Hong Meiling noted via the link, her tone amused. "The bronze sign at the gate clearly states: Enwald Ludwig University, Department of Music—Final Examination Summary Performance."
"So the individuals performing up there are actually just students? How remarkable." Flandre watched the grand display with wide eyes, completely captivated by the scale of the production.
"Indeed. Setting aside their immense focus on arcane research, the most prominent cultural export of Leithanien is their music," Clever explained, rapidly accessing her deep reservoir of regional intelligence to provide context for her companions. "In particular, their classical compositions are renowned across the entirety of Terra. The students before us belong to Ludwigs-Universität, which is arguably one of the most prestigious academic institutions within the borders of Leithanien. As an elite academy situated right in the heart of Zwillingstürme, their faculty roster is strictly top-tier. For instance, within this specific music department, I know for a fact that several senior instructors hold active titles within the Voice of the Empress, meaning they personally accompany the Twin Sovereigns during state functions."
"No wonder the execution is so precise; this level of mastery is truly impressive," Hong Meiling murmured, closing her eyes to fully absorb the shifting harmonies while gently nodding her head in rhythm. She was clearly thoroughly satisfied with the quality of the art.
"It truly is. Leaving all political matters aside, the baseline performance standard across this nation is quite formidable," Clever added. "I have resided in several minor settlements along the Leithanien frontier, and even the veteran musicians there who have practiced into their sixties or seventies would struggle to match the technical precision displayed by these youths on stage."
As the primary analytical mind of the old Rose Riverside network, Clever possessed minimal aptitude for direct physical combat, but she had spent years absorbing an immense catalog of miscellaneous cultural data. She hadn't necessarily anticipated that these obscure details would prove useful during her travels, but sharing the context now felt remarkably rewarding. With her continuous commentary running through the link, Flandre and Hong Meiling gained a far more profound appreciation for the intricate movements unfolding below.
After more than an hour of continuous orchestration, the grand performance finally drew to a triumphant close. By this point, many of the student musicians on the elevated stage were visibly panting under the strain of the rigorous pieces.
Flandre remarked through the channel that these music students certainly didn't have an easy path. They had been channeling their focus and maintaining flawless posture for an immense duration. Although the ambient temperature within the auditorium was perfectly regulated and pleasant, the youth on stage were entirely drenched in sweat from the physical and mental exertion.
"That is the natural reality of their ambition," Clever concluded as the audience began to applaud. "After all, the absolute top performers among this graduating class are highly likely to receive direct invitations to join the ranks of the Voice of the Empress. And those two reigning Sovereigns are known to be extraordinarily strict when it comes to the discipline of music."