The Same Thing, Different People (Continued)

Miss Surtr shook her head slightly.

—No, there's another situation where it's worthy. That is, for her to be more important to me than the whole world... Hmm, what's that called? A lover's tears are worth more than ten thousand taels of gold?

—So, if I want to complete... no, accept this commission, the prerequisite is that I must fall in love with her, fall in love with Theresia?

Her head throbbed slightly, and she shook her head, dismissing the inopportune thought—she didn't believe this could be the pink-haired Princess's characteristically subtle way of confessing. After all, it was just too absurd...

... Although she couldn't find any other explanation besides this conjecture.

—Perhaps this is just a joke.

—Perhaps I'm just letting my thoughts wander too much... Ah, that's possible. Persephone, Alina, Skadi ... these guys are all driving me crazy. My subconscious tendency to think of things in a romantic or suggestive way might also be partly due to the circumstances.

The Flame-haired maiden shook her head.

Why think about all that nonsense? Didn't I already decide not to try to solve riddles?

She let out a soft sigh and left the top of the tower—as she descended, the city had already returned to its bustling, noisy pace. As she passed the convoy of cars, many familiar faces greeted her. She responded politely to each of them with a lighthearted ease.

Clearly, with the previous groundwork laid, her slight change wouldn't cause a major uproar among the Rhodes Island operators—though the groundwork wasn't entirely effective. At least she did see Nightingale in the car; the frail young woman called Liz nearly tripped in surprise at her response. However, she quickly resolved this minor issue.

She reached out and touched the air, and a directional force field that rose from the transport vehicle stabilized Liz's body. Then she released her hand and watched the vehicle full of Medical Operator disappear at the end of the street.

The terminal I was carrying rang.

Turning my head to the side, the Nightingale's smiling face appeared on the terminal's screen.

—Nightingale: [Miss Surtr, would you mind if I visited you after I finish my work these next few days? It's been a long time, and I have so much to share with you. I'm sure you'll find it interesting.]

The girl raised an eyebrow, mentally devising some typical lines of dialogue.

—Surtr: [Welcome, Miss Liz. But please don't ask me any more medical questions. I always heal with magic, not anatomy or cytology.]

—Nightingale: [Liz, Liz, stop with the young lady! (angry). I won't be bringing medical books this time. I've had some new ideas about Originium Arts lately. Perhaps you could give me some pointers?]

His brow relaxed—good, magic was indeed his area of expertise. However, hmm...

—The problem with Originium Arts ... Perhaps it would be better if I had her consult Persephone?

—And Shining ...is their relationship still lukewarm? They're colleagues in the Medical Department, after all. And the Apostle group is so loving...

She thought to herself, but ultimately didn't write down what was on her mind.

—Surtr: [Sorry, Liz, you're welcome to visit anytime—I have a new office in Chernobog. It's also my residence there. I'll prepare afternoon tea once things are settled in your Medical Department.]

—Nightingale: [Adding dinner would be nice too.]

Dinner... The girl tilted her head. Ah, that's right. Spell discussions are a time-consuming affair. It's normal for them to drag on from afternoon into evening—perhaps even into the next morning? After all, it's not like the past when we had to make a dream journey every night.

So she nodded and answered on the terminal.

—Surtr: [We could even include a late-night snack if necessary. My new place has plenty of rooms; you can stay overnight.]

She pressed the send button.

She waited for several tens of seconds but received no response.

I listened intently, and in the distance, I seemed to hear a familiar Originium reaction. It seemed like someone's spell had gone out of control... but the reaction was suppressed in an instant. It shouldn't have caused any harm.

The response came belatedly.

—Nightingale: [(blushing emoji)] —The message was retracted.

—Nightingale: [Um... wasn't that a little too fast?]

This reply is a bit strange.

—Surtr: [Uh...what do you mean?]

—Nightingale: [In every aspect! In every way!]

—Nightingale: [Wait, you don't mean you're spending all night researching spell models...?]

—Surtr: [... Do you have any other plans, Liz?]

The conversation was interrupted for a while.

She received a reply about a minute later.

—Nightingale: [I knew it...]

—Nightingale: [Okay, I understand. After I finish the medical tasks assigned by the Doctor, I'll arrange a time to see you... The car's almost here, I'll get off now. Talk to you next time.]

—Surtr: [Yes, work went smoothly.]

The communication has ended.

Miss Surtr blinked, puzzled.

"It's inexplicable..." She couldn't quite understand the logic behind Liz's words—perhaps this Sarkaz fellow wanted more than just academic discussion?

—So what does she want?

I can't figure it out.

So I had no choice but to stop thinking about it.

Miss Surtr has never been one for riddles, much less interested in trying to decipher the deepest secrets of these young girls.

She exhaled and continued forward—she planned to take a long-awaited stroll around the Rhodes Island flagship, and see what her old home looked like now.

—Amiya told me that my dorm room has always been preserved and is regularly cleaned.

—Hmm...I wonder how those books I wrote back then are doing. Poetry anthologies, fairy tales, and stuff like that—storybooks for children in Terra are just too dark. Although that might actually help them survive better in this treacherous world. But I guess it's better to have something more positive...probably.

Miss Surtr sniffed.

She smelled a faint scent of blood mixed with the engine oil from the Originium reaction. And a shrill whistle, growing louder as it approached her.

"Yaaaaah—hooaaah—"

A lively voice, a burst of noise, and a bouncing, autonomous object fell straight down on her from the top of the mast on the Rhodes Island bridge.

The target was her; in other words, she only needed to reach out to catch the other person. However, the moment that familiar voice entered her ears, her instinctive reaction was expressed through her body movements.

Take a step to the left.

The shriek turned into a scream.