Humans possessed a dangerous talent that often went unnoticed which was the ability to weave certainty out of fragments.
A glance, a pause, a misplaced word, and suddenly, the mind constructed an entire narrative as though it had witnessed the truth firsthand.
Imagination filled the silence between facts, assumptions hardened into belief, and belief, once rooted, refused to be uprooted.
Panto was no exception.
From the moment Baston announced his intention to sell the ice bead and willingly step into the auction's spotlight, something inside Panto had refused to rest.
The merchant boy replayed the sequence again and again in his head. The sudden decision, the calm expression, and the almost deliberate indifference toward a treasure most ice wizards would guard with their lives.
Inside his thoughts, the fragments began aligning. Baston had calculated it.
The realization did not arrive gently. It struck like a spark in dry tinder. The fat boy never moved without reason.
Even when he appeared lazy, even when he joked, and even when he acted unaware, there was always something ticking behind his eyes.
Panto had seen that look before. It was the look of someone who already knew the ending while pretending to read the beginning.
He wanted to ask. The question sat at the edge of his tongue during the entire carriage ride back to Prius Academy but he knew Baston well enough by now.
If the answer was inconvenient, it would be buried beneath humor or redirected entirely. Baston did not lie easily. He simply chose what to reveal.
So, Panto swallowed the urge. Instead, another thought surfaced. It was about Alicia.
If there was anyone capable of glimpsing through Baston's layers, it would be her.
With her noble upbringing, strategic education, and political instinct, she might notice patterns he could not. Status differences were no longer mattered since urgency had already been put forward.
If Baston was truly orchestrating something this large, someone else needed to see it too.
The carriage rolled smoothly over the stone road with enchanted wheels humming faintly beneath the wooden frame.
Baston leaned back with unusual ease, occasionally humming to himself as though the auction had been nothing more than entertainment.
Panto studied him from the corner of his eye. How much of it had been coincidence? How much had been baited? The journey back felt calm for the two boys.
*****
For Claire and Teres, it was anything but calm.
Their return carried none of the comfort of victory.
Despite their noble lineage and formidable magic, their hearts were heavier than when they had arrived at the auction hall. Status usually guaranteed safety and authority usually commanded control but in front of the clown named Joker, they had been reduced to observers.
Worse than that, they could only become witnesses.
They had watched a man disintegrate under a curse so precise and cruel that even memory recoiled from it. No corpse remained and no residue lingered. Just his memory around the venue on the day that could insist on his own existence.
The laughter from Joker was full of madness after the man died. Even now, its echo clung to their minds.
They had reported everything to the council without embellishment.
From the moment the clown appeared uninvited to the death of the bald man. It then continued to Baston until fortunately, the opponent's time was up.
The faint recoil of magic around the boy soon was released before he collapsed.
The council had listened in grave silence but the elders' reactions had been unreadable.
Whether they were concerned, skeptical, or calculating, Claire and Teres could not tell. Before they could rest easy, another invitation came toward them.
It arrived without herald, without official seal, and without public announcement.
It was just a simple folded message delivered discreetly into their hands. They opened it and the name Angus was displayed.
The meeting place was unexpected which was a modest house at the outskirts of the city. No towers, no marble floors, and no insignia of prestige. That alone made them cautious since Angus was not a man who did things carelessly.
The house looked ordinary but the moment they stepped within the invisible perimeter, both of them felt it.
A special domain reverberated into the surrounding. It was subtle, complete, and absolute. It was like stepping into the center of a quiet storm.
Every movement within the boundary would be known to him.
Even the owner did not see them, he knew every movement toward his guests.
They exchanged a glance before knocking. The door opened on its own. Inside, Angus sat calmly behind a simple wooden table.
There were two chairs faced him.
There was nothing else adorned inside the room.
There was no servants, no guards, and no distractions.
"Welcome," he said gently, "Please, take a seat."
They bowed in unison, "Thank you, great wizard Angus."
He waved the title away, "You are great wizards yourselves."
"We do not dare to claim that title in front of you…" Teres replied with sincerity, "Your seniority surpasses ours."
"And your breakthrough had already approached the limit…" Claire added, "As for us, we are still at the beginning."
Angus smiled faintly but did not argue further. His gaze sharpened.
"I wish to hear about the clown…"
Silence briefly thickened.
They began from the beginning, explaining about the chaos at the auction.
The ice bead's bidding war, the sudden appearance of Joker without triggering alarms, and the way magic itself seemed blind to him.
He played the game, he detected the lie, and he hurled the curse.
Claire described the bald man's final moments with careful precision. Teres spoke of Baston's response about the half-truth answer that resulted in pain but not annihilation.
"I believe the boy was fortunate," Teres concluded, "If Joker had lingered longer, he would have died."
"He was the only one who survived," Claire added, "And he is also the seller of the ice bead."
Angus leaned forward slightly, "The seller?"
Claire nodded, "Baston is a student of Prius Academy. He recently was blessed with ice element. Zeverius Academy had gifted him with ice bead though there was a hidden motive behind this kindness."
Angus's expression did not change but something behind his eyes did.
They continued, recounting how Baston had sold a treasure that would amplify his own elemental growth.
How he answered Joker imperfectly despite knowing the consequences and how he collapsed at precisely the right moment.
Unknowingly, Claire and Teres drifted into playful argument over the auction rivalry between their families.
Angus did not hear them. He was elsewhere, connecting between the seemingly disconnected action.
From the ice bead gifted by Zeverius Academy toward selling it publicly.
From the conflict between the Versance family who sought ice element item and the Herbiens who would not allow the counterpart to dominate without challenge.
And, from the auction which gathered both factions before Joker appeared.
Was everything born as coincidence?
Angus did not believe in coincidences large enough to gather nobles and demons under one roof. He remembered Alicia mentioning that Baston had once faced Joker before and answered truthfully without harm.
So why answer half-truth now?
Why risk pain?
Why risk death?
Unless the pain itself served a purpose.
Was it a shield, a demonstration, or a signal?
"Why take that risk…" Angus murmured.
He stood abruptly. The house soon dissolved like mist in sunlight.
Claire and Teres stared at the empty field where it had stood. The domain vanished as if it had never existed.
Angus was already gone.
Wind magic propelled him through the sky toward Zeverius Academy, far faster than any carriage.
Within hours, he stood before Principal Zener. No formalities passed between them.
"You're asking about Baston?" Principal Zener raised a brow.
"Yes..."
Principal Zener leaned back thoughtfully, "Such talented boy, able to score one thousand points during assessment. I attempted to recruit him yet he refused. In the end, I gifted him the ice bead as incentive."
Angus's fingers tightened subtly.
"I informed him," Principal Zener continued, "That certain noble families seek ice element item.
Particularly, it was the Versance family. I warned him that Prius Academy may not shield him from political pressure."
Angus absorbed every word.
So, Baston knew everything. He knew about Versance. He knew about the risk and still, he placed the ice bead into public auction.
If Versance desired it, they would bid.
If Herbiens opposed Versance, they would intervene.
If nobles clashed, attention would gather. And attention drew predators.
In the end, it pointed everything into Joker.
The clown had appeared precisely where power concentrated.
Had Baston predicted that?
Or worse, had he summoned it?
Angus dismissed the latter immediately. No student could command such a being. But for the bait, it required only knowledge of appetite.
Baston had dangled something irresistible to powerful factions.
Angus's thoughts darkened.
If this was deliberate, then the boy was not merely clever. He was dangerous yet another inconsistency lingered. The half-truth answer was confusing.
If Baston knew the rule that complete honesty avoided harm, why answer imperfectly?
Unless he needed to appear vulnerable, there was no need to hurt himself.
If he had answered flawlessly again, suspicion might deepen.
Surviving Joker twice without injury would draw scrutiny. But collapsing against the clown with that preserved narrative, it would be deemed as lucky, fragile, and human.
Angus exhaled slowly.
Was the boy protecting himself from Joker or from everyone else?
He left Zeverius Academy with heavier contemplation than before.
Meanwhile, back at the return trip, Baston stepped from the carriage with theatrical laziness. He stretched, looking at the small village in front of him.
"Ah… Finally, I can rest on the bed..."
Panto watched him carefully.
"Are you tired?" Panto asked.
"I'm exhausted," Baston replied without hesitation, "I'm nearly died. I had terrible experience against the clown. I would not recommend such experience."
The humor felt deliberate.
Panto forced a laugh.
That night, whispers began circulating through the city and surrounding town. About the clown's curse, about the noble panic, and about the auction disaster.
In the meantime, Baston remained in his small room.
He was alone. The moonlight filtered through the small window, casting pale illumination across his bed.
He leaned back, eyes reflecting quiet calculation.
The journey back couldn't be resolved quickly so he had to stay for a night at the nearest settlement.
Having to stay inside the carriage was uncomfortable so Panto took the initiative to pay for the stay.
Thankfully for him, money wouldn't be a problem in such small village.
Baston enjoyed the silence but outside, many whispers were still contradicting against each other.
The inn itself was old. Its wooden beams creaking whenever the wind brushed against the walls.
From the narrow corridor, footsteps passed occasionally, followed by hushed conversations that stopped the moment someone noticed another presence nearby.
News traveled faster than carriages.
The story of the clown had already reached this small settlement ahead of them, distorted and reshaped by frightened tongues.
Some said the bald man had offended a demon, some claimed the ice bead itself was cursed, and others whispered that the fat boy had survived because he had made a pact.
Baston heard fragments of those rumors drifting through the thin walls. He did not move and he did not react but his fingers tapped lightly against the wooden frame of the bed in slow rhythm.
It was quite interesting to listen such unbelievable rumors.
He closed his eyes briefly, replaying the moment Joker's gaze had settled on him. The pause before the question and the subtle shift in tone. There had been something else there. Something that did not belong to mere madness.
Was Joker truly acting by his order?
Or was someone else observing from behind the curtain?
The thought lingered longer than he expected
*****
Across the city, Angus stood atop a tower balcony, wind brushing his robes.
"This boy…" he murmured.
Was he merely adapting to danger or orchestrating it?
The mystery did not lie in Joker alone.
It lay in intention and intention was invisible.
Somewhere between coincidence and conspiracy, the truth waited.
Angus decided one thing. He would not confront Baston yet. He had to hold observation first before understanding later.
The clown still roamed free. Versance and Herbiens would not remain idle.
As for Baston, he moved like a stone dropped into still water.
The ripples were spreading whether he meant them to or not. Coming out from Zeverius Academy,
Angus had new perception about the boy.
This fat boy was getting smarter than him, almost fooling the old wizard.
Still, he harrumphed because his experience could determine that something was fishy.
He then walked ahead to somewhere, leaving a couple of unanswered questions left to Baston if he had a chance to meet him on the way.