Patchouli completed the creation of the ward remarkably fast. Once the arcane energy had settled into the parchment, she smoothly handed it over to the young girl.
"I presume I do not need to instruct you on the mechanics of its deployment?"
Flandre patted her chest confidently, flashing a bright grin that indicated there was absolutely zero issue on her end.
"Hey, wait a minute... are you truly intending to execute this plan? Do you honestly fail to see the structural problems with this approach? Is it physically impossible for us to rely on a normal, conventional method?"
Clever paced back and forth, her voice laced with growing anxiety. Within a capital that was absolutely crawling with active government spies, and directly outside an institution renowned across Terra for its cutting-edge research into Originium Arts, they were actually planning to utilize rogue magic to subvert a student's free will just to deliver a personal note to a senior faculty member. In her mind, this was equivalent to trying to pull a loose tooth straight from the jaw of a wild Manglerbeast.
Flandre patted her shoulder with an air of casual reassurance. "There is no need to worry, and there is absolutely no reason to be afraid. Grandpa Fremont is a remarkably kind old man; he won't mind a little shortcut."
Clever found it entirely impossible to agree with the child's logic. True masters of the arcane were invariably proud and unyielding, particularly those who managed to secure a tenured position at such a prestigious academy. The professor's mastery of Originium Arts had to be among the absolute top tier within the borders of Leithanien. To deploy mind manipulation on an innocent student directly outside his own facility was essentially a direct slap to the face of both the university and the academic himself.
She opened her mouth to mount one final plea for caution, but seeing that Flandre and Hong Meiling had already committed to the venture, she could only let out a helpless, defeated sigh.
The following morning, while Remilia and Patchouli returned to their systematic evaluation of the local archives, Flandre excitedly rallied Clever and Hong Meiling for their grand mission to—as Clever privately defined it—control an unsuspecting civilian and force them to do something entirely against their will.
They arrived at a discreet vantage point near the university's primary entrance just as the morning rush was reaching its peak. Students who resided off-campus were streaming toward the iron gates in a steady, organized line, presenting their institutional identification cards to the watchmen before crossing the threshold.
Following a brief, whispered conspiracy among the trio, a deeply reluctant Clever was nudged out from the shadow of the brickwork.
Stepping onto the cobblestones, she approached a young student who was casually chewing on a slice of thick bread while looking entirely daydreamy. Holding up a map of the sector, Clever put on her finest bewildered expression. "Excuse me, little sister, could I trouble you for a brief moment? How do I navigate toward this specific intersection? I am completely unable to locate the markings on this map."
The young girl was briefly startled by the sudden appearance of the older woman in her path. However, upon catching sight of the crumpled parchment map in Clever's hands, her posture relaxed completely. She deduced that the stranger was merely a lost tourist seeking basic directions.
She helpfully took the map into her hands, pointing a crumb-covered finger at the layout. "Ah, I recognize the sector you are searching for. It is located right over here... you will need to follow this primary commercial avenue all the way down..."
While the student was enthusiastically standing on the walkway explaining the route to the seemingly confused woman, Flandre had already glided silently up behind her shoulder. With a deft, imperceptible flick of her wrist, she slipped Patchouli's finished control rune straight into the folds of the girl's satchel.
The very next second, the student's entire frame went completely rigid.
The focus within her eyes gradually dissolved, leaving her gaze entirely vacant. However, after a few brief seconds of calibration, her muscles relaxed back into their natural posture and the color returned to her eyes, making her appear exactly as she had a moment before.
The only notable discrepancy was the appearance of a tiny, perfectly formed pink heart floating directly within the center of her pupils.
Wait, what kind of highly questionable manipulation technique is this supposed to be?! Clever screamed frantically within her own mind.
Flandre smoothly slipped the envelope into the girl's unresisting fingers. The student offered a mechanical nod of understanding, turned on her heel, and marched directly toward the academy gates. As she crossed the threshold, the security detail failed to register a single anomaly in her gait or demeanor.
Witnessing the flawless entry, Clever finally exhaled a long, ragged sigh of relief. It was an immense blessing that nothing had gone structurally wrong during the deployment.
The controlled student navigated the grand corridors of the faculty building, arriving outside Fremont's private study. She offered a firm, rhythmic knock against the wood.
"Enter," a gravelly voice sounded from within.
Fremont frowned slightly as the hinges creaked open. He remembered his schedule perfectly; he had zero instructional classes slated for the morning hours, and his regular students were universally far too terrified of his strict demeanor to ever grace his doorway voluntarily to ask questions. As for his fellow liches, they possessed a notorious disdain for conventional architecture and wouldn't dream of utilizing a standard front door. Who under the sun was seeking his presence through the main entrance?
Fremont raised his ancient eyes to evaluate the girl who had pushed open the door... her face failed to register in his memory.
Then, his gaze locked onto her pupils, and his vision instantly narrowed into a sharp focus.
In the mere snap of a finger, a dense web of invisible, razor-thin arcane threads materialized around the student's limbs. While these constructs currently exerted zero physical resistance against her natural movements, a single mental command from the lich could instantly tear the girl's physical form into pieces.
"What is your purpose here?" Fremont inquired, his ancient face remaining completely unreadable, as though he hadn't just woven a lethal boundary around the room.
The girl blankly extended her arms, holding the letter up into the air before her.
Fremont crooked a finger. The envelope slipped from her grasp, floating smoothly across the gap to land directly within his weathered palm. Catching sight of the uneven, childish handwriting scrawled across the paper, the lich's brow furrowed once more.
Flandre? What a remarkably familiar signature.
As the memory of the eccentric child surface in his mind, he tore open the envelope and extracted the single sheet of paper. As his eyes scanned the blunt text, his expression transitioned rapidly from cold caution to absolute speechlessness.
Fremont looked back at the student who remained frozen before his desk. He extended a long index finger, tracing a swift, complex incantation through the air. With a soft chime of dissolving energy, the tiny pink hearts vanished from the girl's eyes.
She shuddered violently, her chest heaving as her consciousness rushed back into her body. She cast a terrified gaze around the foreign room. "Was I not just standing outside the gates... how on earth... hiss—Professor Fremont!"
The girl locked eyes with the formidable elder standing a few paces away, her entire body instantly locking down in raw terror. Who within the entire student body was unfamiliar with Fremont's legendary reputation? The professor's terrifying temper was renowned across every department of the university. Countless youths had been scolded to the point of tears during his intense lectures. To suddenly materialize inside his private office while he looked thoroughly displeased was a nightmare scenario.
She already anticipated a verbal flaying that would ruin her entire semester.
"Why do you continue to occupy space in my office? Have your morning lectures been canceled?"
The moment Fremont's voice resonated through the room, the girl stiffened straight up like a wild owl that had been poked with a stick. "I-I am profoundly sorry, Professor!"
Under the crushing weight of the lich's natural aura, the student possessed zero desire to reconstruct the missing minutes of her morning. She spun on her heel and sprinted through the doorway, vanishing from Fremont's sight in a matter of seconds.
Once the corridor had fallen silent, Fremont raised the letter once more, recalling the strange, powerful little girl he had encountered a year prior. A slow, amused smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. It was clear that this particular visitor was "not arriving with peaceful intentions."
Shattering the foreign magic bound to the student just now constituted their very first tactical exchange. The structural composition of the magic the girl had deployed was completely disconnected from any known school of Leithanien spellcraft. Reflecting on their past encounter, every sentence that had tumbled from Flandre's mouth had been more than enough to broaden his academic horizons. And now, her personal tutor had arrived in the capital as well.
Seeking institutional borrowing privileges for the restricted archives?
He flicked his wrist. Before a dozen seconds could tick by, a spatial distortion rippled near his desk, and a woman who bore a striking resemblance to a classical witch materialized out of thin air.
"Old man, what is the meaning of this interruption?" she complained, rubbing her eyes. "I was in the absolute depth of a critical research phase; your sudden summoning nearly compromised my entire project."
"A critical research phase?" Fremont glanced at the heavy sleep crusted in the corners of her eyes, experiencing a familiar surge of administrative frustration where he wanted to unleash a lecture but lacked the energy to bother. "Is the primary objective of your current project to locate the most comfortable angle to sleep through the morning hours?"
He waved the letter dismissively. "Secure a handful of institutional library permits for me immediately."
Fremont had zero desire to enter a prolonged debate with this particular colleague, fully aware that her casual attitude would eventually spike his blood pressure, so he delivered the directive with absolute finality.
"Huh? For a trivial matter of basic administration, you actually went to the trouble of—" She paused mid-sentence, her eyes widening in sudden realization. "Wait, let me clarify... you aren't referring to the standard public school archives, are you? You mean our private, restricted library?"
As a fellow lich who had earned a position of immense trust under Fremont's supervision, her intellect was naturally among the absolute top tier of the younger generation, and her analytical mind was incredibly flexible. She had picked up on the hidden weight of the request instantly.