At that moment, Guizhong was lying on her side on Piers’s not-too-big, not-too-small bed, yawning, her snow-white long legs exposed, with her wide sleeves covering half of her.
“Something with offensive power…
let me think.
I actually don’t know many attack arts, but I do know quite a few of the Yaksha clan’s killing techniques.” Just like before, Guizhong flicked out a small white orb of light from her fingertip, and the instant it touched Piers it bored into the space between his brows.
“Inside are some techniques I jotted down about the Yaksha clan.
They were all given to me by some old friends back in the day, though I’ve never actually practiced them myself.” The moment Guizhong finished speaking, in the very next second, she—who had been drowsy until just now—was suddenly startled wide awake as she watched the orb of light sink into Piers’s brow.
The instant that orb of light vanished into the space between Piers’s brows, almost immediately a flash of blue light crossed his pupils, and Guizhong could clearly sense that Piers’s whole aura had changed.
“Learned it already?” She scrambled up from the bed, her bare little feet padding onto the floor, and in two or three steps she ran up in front of Piers, cupping his head in both hands and studying it curiously.
“Sister Guizhong, what are you doing?” Piers pried Guizhong’s hands away.
“I’m wondering whether you might be the reincarnation of some formidable Archon.
Your aptitude is unbelievably high—even better than those adepti born naturally in the wild mountains.” Even after having her hands pried away, she wasn’t the least bit annoyed.
Instead she shifted her posture, crossing both hands to press down on Piers’s shoulders and propping up her chin.
“Who knows—after all, so many Archons died during the Archon War.” Piers tossed out a casual remark to fob Guizhong off; there was of course no way he was the reincarnation of some Archon.
For the rest of the time, Piers went back to studying the adeptal arts Guizhong had given him.
Learning and mastering were two different things—merely learning them simply wasn’t enough.
Guizhong, meanwhile, fiddled around here and there out of boredom.
She was lively and restless by nature, but now all she could do was talk to Piers—and Piers, of all things, was ignoring her at the moment.
This went on until the next day.
After breakfast, Piers began handling the various matters, big and small, that had been passed up from below—this too was part of his daily work.
Things like filing reports on parts wear and tear, safety inspections at the processing plant, as well as submitting expense reports for the experiments required to the Regrator.
Of course, the recruitment of new members for the Seventh Seat also fell within his purview.
Normally, when it came to a Harbinger taking on new subordinates, one was supposed to consult the Harbinger’s opinion.
But since Sandrone was wholly absorbed in tinkering with machinery, she simply handed such matters straight over to Piers.
So when Piers earlier told Katayena that he’d arrange in advance for her to be placed under Sandrone, he wasn’t just talking big—he really did have the authority to decide.
He stayed busy until noon.
After lunch, a little robot came running into Piers’s room from outside.
He turned his head, set down his pen, and looked at the little robot.
“Has Lady Marionette invited me to the tea party?” The little robot nodded.
Once confirmed, he got up and headed toward the tea party room.
Guizhong followed along too—except that, before leaving the room, she went out of her way to lean in close to the little robot and take a careful look at it.
…
The tea party room—this was practically Sandrone’s fixed spot for holding tea parties in Snezhnaya.
The decor inside wasn’t of Snezhnayan style at all; it leaned far more toward a Fontaine style.
A carpet and sofas, along with a long table neatly laid out with plenty of tea snacks—actually, even if it weren’t neat it could all still fit.
Apart from the stove, used for warmth and baking biscuits, which barely resembled something Snezhnaya might have, everything else looked as though an entire set had been hauled straight over from Fontaine.
“You’re here?” The moment Piers walked in through the doorway, Sandrone spotted him.
There was only Sandrone in the whole room; she sat quietly on the sofa, both hands resting on her lap, very elegant.
Oh, right—beside the stove there was also a miserable little robot busy preparing tea snacks and biscuits.
“Since you’re here, just go find yourself any seat.
There are plenty of seats anyway.” Since Sandrone had put it that way, Piers didn’t bother holding back at all and simply sat down right beside Sandrone.
“What are you doing?” “Didn’t you, Lady Marionette, tell me to just find any seat?
I’m not really familiar with the other Harbingers at the tea party, and sitting too close to them would inevitably make me a bit nervous.
You know, I’ve had social anxiety ever since I was little.” “Ha?
You, social anxiety?
I sure couldn’t tell.
Can a subordinate who takes advantage of someone’s vulnerability to tear off his superior’s stockings really be called socially anxious?” Sandrone curled the corner of her mouth and turned her head to look at Piers.
What an ugly smile.
This Kitty—he saved me, yet turns right around and teases me.
Next time, while you’re asleep, I’ll haul Columbina into your bedroom to sing.
“Ahem, ahem…
Lady Marionette, I already explained—that was for the sake of better treatment.” “What are you so nervous for?
I never said I was blaming you.” Sandrone folded her arms across her chest, fixing Piers with a look full of wicked amusement.
She actually dares to stare at me—watch me glare right back!
It had originally been Sandrone staring one-sidedly at Piers, but when Piers glared like that, the two locked eyes, and Sandrone suddenly turned her head away, a little flustered.
At that moment, Guizhong, crouching by the stove and poking the little robot with her finger for fun, suddenly sensed that the atmosphere had grown a bit subtle.
But she didn’t seem to find anything strange about it either, and after pausing for a moment she went right back to poking the little robot that was baking biscuits.
[Munch munch][Munch munch][Munch munch] There’s a rat!
No, wait—it’s a pigeon.
The sound of biscuit-crunching caught Piers’s and Sandrone’s attention.
The two looked over together and suddenly noticed that Columbina—who knew when she’d sat down—was on a sofa off to the side, and was even eating the tea snacks on the table.
“So tasty.” She gripped the biscuits in the plate with both hands, paying not the slightest mind to the two of them watching her.
“Columbina!
The tea party hasn’t even started yet!
Did you not eat lunch?” Actually, Sandrone knew perfectly well that Columbina probably hadn’t gone to eat.
She was the truly socially anxious one—except, of course, around people Columbina was familiar with.
She was the gentle, demure type on the outside, but a little demon on the offensive on the inside.
“And when did you even get here?
How is it your footsteps made no sound at all?” “Mm…” At this question, Columbina paused mid-motion of stuffing biscuits into her mouth, rested a finger at the corner of her lips, and began thinking seriously.
“Around when you two were talking about stockings.” She said it with a perfectly calm expression, but Sandrone, hearing this, looked rather panicked.
“You…
you, you, how could you eavesdrop on other people’s conversations?” “Eh?” Columbina tilted her head, and the little wings on her head shifted along with the motion.
“Weren’t you the one who invited me to come to the tea party?” Sandrone was about to say something more when two other voices suddenly came from the doorway.
“Everyone’s already here.
What are you all chatting about?
Columbina, it looks like you’ve gone and made Sandrone angry again.” Arlecchino and Rosalyn walked in together through the doorway.
“Oh?
And there’s an unfamiliar face here, too.”