This discovery surprised Columbina.
She knew little about Marionette Sandrone’s past, only that Alain created Sandrone in her final days after completely bidding farewell to all his childhood friends from the Narcissus Cross Institute.
But the Sandrone before him, who worried about food and tuition, lived in a shabby hut, and had eyes filled with exhaustion and stubbornness, was clearly in a delicate stage of life.
“Human years…”
Columbina thought to herself.
This explained why the other party didn’t recognize her at all.
Sandrone walked onto the university campus, keeping his head down as much as possible to avoid unnecessary gazes.
But her overly outstanding appearance and status as an international student always drew attention.
Just as she reached the third-floor corridor of the Mechanical Academy’s main building, trouble arrived.
A few female students led by Liliane blocked the way.
Liliane came from a wealthy family; her father was a local factory owner.
She herself had little interest in mechanics but was keen on maintaining his status as the “Flower of the Academy.”
Sandrone, this taciturn “poor girl from out of town” who always outperformed him in grades, had long been a thorn in her side.
“Oh, look who it is?
Our diligent Little Squirrel is back to gnaw on books again?”
Liliane crossed her arms, her tone exaggerated, while the two lackeys beside her snickered.
“Little Squirrel” was the nickname they gave Sandrone, implying that she hoarded knowledge (and poverty) like a squirrel.
Sandrone didn’t stop, attempting to bypass them, his voice calm: “Excuse me, I need to go to the lab.”
Liliane deliberately stepped in the way again, her gaze falling on Sandrone’s faded skirt hem and slightly old bag, sighing exaggeratedly: “Sigh, how pitiful.
I heard you messed up Professor Hammer’s model again yesterday?
And got kicked out of the restaurant?
Do you want me to introduce you to a job at my family’s laundry?
It’s a bit tiring, but at least you won’t go hungry or…
make a fool of yourself.”
She said the last four words slowly and softly, filled with malice.
Other students in the corridor slowed down, casting looks as if watching a play.
She stopped, looked up, and stared directly at Liliane, her voice clear but devoid of emotion: “Student Liliane, if you have questions about my studies or financial situation, you can report them directly to the Academic Affairs Office or the Financial Aid Office.
Additionally, regarding the issue with yesterday’s classroom model, Professor Hammer has already provided professional guidance.
Do you need me to repeat it for you?
Regarding xxxxxx.”
She fluently spat out a string of technical terms, her gaze as calm as if discussing the weather.
Liliane’s expression froze; she couldn’t understand a word Sandrone was saying, and several suppressed chuckles came from the surroundings.
Without waiting for a reaction, Sandrone continued: “As for the job, thank you for your kindness.
However, my current schedule requires me to prioritize completing xxxxxx, so I’m afraid I cannot take the position in the laundry.
If there’s nothing else, I need to go verify some data.
Oh, right,”
As if suddenly remembering something, he added, “Regarding the draft of your paper on steam pressure valves that you submitted last week, Professor Hammer seems to have noted ‘conceptual confusion, suggested retaking Chapter 3 of Introduction to Thermodynamics.’ Do you need me to lend you my notes?”
After speaking, Sandrone stepped aside slightly and, with an impeccable polite gesture, walked past the completely stunned Liliane, his steps steady and his back straight, as if they had just had a perfectly normal conversation.
Liliane was left with his face turning red and white, feeling extremely embarrassed under the gaze of her lackeys and bystanders.
From deep inside the bag, Columbina watched the whole scene.
“Wow.”
She marveled silently.
Although he didn’t have the pressure of the future Marionette—controlling giant machines and deciding life or death with a word—this posture of calmly counterattacking with professional knowledge and precisely hitting the opponent’s sore spot while in a weak position already showed a sharp edge.
That tsundere nature and resilience were exactly the same.
“I didn’t expect Lord Marionette to have such…
a youthful school past.”
Columbina felt this was much more interesting than the lunar landscape.
For the rest of the day, Columbina was forced to experience Sandrone’s school life.
She listened to boring lectures on steam dynamics, saw Sandrone’s focused profile while frowning over complex drawings in the lab, and witnessed her eating only self-brought dry bread with cold water for lunch to save a single copper coin.
Of course, this also included some awkward moments—like when Sandrone had to go to the public restroom.
Columbina looked at the dim, narrow stall in the mirror and fell silent for two seconds.
She silently focused his main perception on the fabric texture inside the bag until Sandrone put the bag back on and walked out.
However, this also allowed her to completely confirm:
The current Sandrone was entirely an ordinary human Damselette in terms of physiological structure, needing to eat, drink, and excrete, getting tired, and tensing up due to being bullied.
Sandrone returned to the classroom and continued her lessons.
Sunlight streamed through the window, falling on the tips of her hair.
Columbina lay on the mirror’s surface, looking at Sandrone’s serious profile, and the corners of his mouth couldn’t help but curl up.
“Following Sandrone to school seems quite interesting.”
She muttered softly, his eyes full of interest, “I wonder if there will be anything fun this afternoon.”
After school, Sandrone put on a dark hood, pulling the brim very low to cover most of his face, even burying his chin in the collar, leaving only a section of his fair fingertips visible.
She gripped the bag containing the silver mirror tightly and wove through the streets quickly, specifically choosing secluded alleys.
The stone pavement underfoot was uneven, and she didn’t care even when the splashed mud wet his feet.
Inside the bag’s silver mirror, Columbina’s perception swayed along, making him dizzy.
“Where are we going?”
She muttered softly, “Turning here and there.”
After turning through another narrow alley, the view suddenly opened up.
Cluttered stalls were spread out along the street, and all sorts of people wove through, talking in low voices, with the air filled with a mixture of tobacco and low-quality spices.
Some were trading old clocks, some were peddling suspicious potions, and others were quietly reselling firearm parts.
“A black market?”
Columbina was full of curiosity, “Sandrone actually knows about this?”
Sandrone skillfully avoided several burly men with unfriendly gazes and walked straight to a shop deep in the alley without stopping.
The shop owner was an elderly gentleman with gray hair, wearing a monocle and an old-fashioned vest that was meticulously maintained, known as “Old White.”
She operated a general store as a cover but actually handled a bit of everything, especially favoring exquisite mechanical products and antiques.
Sandrone was a regular here, occasionally selling exquisite small parts he made herself or buying rare materials that were hard to get in class.
Old White was quite fair to him and would even occasionally give her a few extra coppers, perhaps out of a bit of pity for her hard work.