Meeting Among the Flowers

Skylar stared at the bloodstains on the ground, his brow furrowed, his heart heavier than ever before. He had originally thought this Potions Championship was just an ordinary competition, competitive but not dangerous.

He raised his wand and chanted a spell in a low voice. A pale blue light flowed slowly in the air, like a shimmering ribbon, winding its way forward. This was his uniquely modified tracking spell, which could accurately pinpoint the source of the bloodstains and guide him to the injured person.

He frowned, watching the streaks of crimson blood scattered among the flowers, the rose petals stained with bright red, starkly contrasting against the backdrop of the garden. The garden should have been fragrant and lush, but now the air was filled with a faint smell of rust, indicating that some conflict had occurred here not long ago.

This blood... could it be Phoebe's?

Skylar quickened his pace, following the trail of blood, his heart involuntarily beating faster. Although he knew Phoebe was quite strong, she wasn't exactly known for her combat prowess, and he didn't want to think about the possibility of encountering a terrifying Magical Creatures.

The light of the tracking spell guided him through flowerbeds, across a path overgrown with ferns, and finally, he pushed aside a clump of low thorns and saw the figure ahead—

Phoebe Delacour.

She leaned against a tall sycamore tree, slightly out of breath, her shoulders heaving, her silver hair disheveled, with tiny leaves and petals clinging to it, making her look somewhat disheveled.

Her wizard robes were stained with mud and blood, and had several obvious tears. There were several rips on the sleeves, and several bloodstains were visible on her bare, snow-white arms. The fabric at her shoulders was also torn, vaguely revealing a bit of her smooth, fair skin, stained with dried blood.

She sensed Skylar's approach and looked up at him. Her usually bright and dazzling face now showed a rare weakness. Even so, she stubbornly straightened her back, her azure eyes flashing with complex emotions, as if surprise, stubbornness, and something else entirely.

Skylar looked at her, his brows furrowing slightly, but a mocking smile played on his lips. "Tsk, look at you now. You used to be as proud as a swan, but now you've turned into a wounded kitten."

Phoebe's tired expression froze instantly, her brows furrowing slightly as if she wanted to refute something, but as soon as she moved, a sharp pain shot through the wound on her shoulder, causing her to gasp involuntarily.

Seeing this, Skylar shook his head slightly, his gaze falling on her injured arm. He suddenly noticed that she had hastily bandaged the wound with some strips of cloth that she had torn off at random.

He raised an eyebrow and said with a hint of mockery, "You treat your wound like this? It's absolutely awful."

Phoebe bit her lip, let out a low groan, and said somewhat defiantly, "... At least it can stop the bleeding."

Skylar sighed helplessly, squatted down, took out a delicate little bottle from his pocket, and gently shook it. The liquid inside emitted a faint blue light. He stopped mocking her and focused on untying the strips of cloth she had carelessly wrapped, revealing her scratched arm.

The wound was deeper than he had imagined. Although the bleeding had stopped, it was still red and swollen, and if it was not treated properly, it would probably leave a scar.

His fingertips lightly traced her arm, pausing for a moment when they touched her skin.

It's so cool.

Phoebe's skin was unusually cool, yet incredibly soft, like the finest silk. He had only touched it, but it felt as if he had been burned, and his heart skipped a beat.

He quickly composed himself and said, feigning calmness, "Don't move. I don't want to have to treat your wounds and then try to fix them because you've moved around."

Normally, Phoebe would have retorted without hesitation, but this time, she was unusually silent. She simply lowered her head slightly, letting him take her injured arm and watch him carefully treat her wound, her gaze somewhat complicated.

Skylar first gently cleansed the wound with Water-Making Spell; the warm water gently washed away the blood and dirt, revealing clean skin. He then took out a bottle of medicine and dripped it onto the wound; the pale blue liquid slowly seeped in, bringing a cool sensation.

Phoebe couldn't help but tremble slightly, her breath catching in her throat, but she still didn't make a sound.

Skylar noticed her reaction, a barely perceptible smile playing on his lips. He said softly, "What? If it hurts, you can cry out. I won't laugh at you."

Phoebe glared at him, her cheeks slightly flushed, and said stubbornly, "I won't cry out in pain like those delicate girls." Then she turned her head away haughtily.

Seeing this, Skylar chuckled inwardly and stopped teasing her. Instead, he took out the precious Potions ingredients he had collected earlier—finely crushed Twin-Ear Herb powder, Flowing Sap Herb powder, and Morning Dew. He added these ingredients to the Dittany Ointment, cast a spell to mix them evenly, making the ointment more effective in healing, and then used his fingertip to dab a little and gently apply it to her wound.

His heart skipped a beat when his fingertips touched her shoulder.

Phoebe's skin was so white it was almost translucent, gleaming faintly in the dim light. When his fingers brushed near her wound, he could even feel her tremble slightly.

Her cheeks were flushed bright red.

Skylar pretended not to notice and continued to apply the ointment with focused concentration. His fingers moved slowly along her wound until he was sure the ointment had completely covered it before he withdrew his hand and said casually, "That's it, this way there won't be a scar."

Phoebe looked down at her injured arm. The previously red and swollen wound had noticeably subsided, and her skin was beginning to regain its smoothness. She pursed her lips and softly said, "... Thank you."

"What's wrong?" Skylar raised an eyebrow, looking at her with some surprise. "Given our relationship, there's no need to be so polite, is there?" He deliberately widened his eyes exaggeratedly. "Are you scared out of your wits?"

Phoebe glared at him, instantly shattering the gentle atmosphere that had just begun. She gritted her teeth and said, "If you say another word, I'll take back my thanks!"

Skylar chuckled softly, ceasing his provocation. Instead, he raised his wand and gently waved it over her tattered wizard's robes, whispering, "Reparifarge."

A soft light flashed, and the tear in the wizard's robe instantly and automatically closed up, as if it had never been damaged at all.

Skylar admired his work with satisfaction, stood up, and clapped his hands. "Alright, at least you've regained some semblance of human appearance."

Phoebe looked down at her carefully treated wound, then at her pristine wizard robes, gently touched the spot on her shoulder that no longer hurt, and looked up at Skylar with a complicated expression.

She paused for a moment, then slowly raised her head, gently smoothed her still somewhat disheveled silver hair, and looked straight at Skylar.

That gaze was no longer the usual provocation, nor was it filled with anger or dissatisfaction, but rather a complex emotion, as if it were re-examining the boy before it, or as if it were pondering something.

Skylar was a little puzzled by her gaze, narrowed his eyes slightly, and asked in a teasing tone, "What's wrong? Are you captivated by my gentleness?"

Phoebe finally smiled this time, but instead of talking back as usual, she gently shook her head, her lips curving slightly upwards, her gaze still fixed on him, as if she wanted to remember this moment deeply.