It's the first piece of 'proof' of his mother's existence, and it came from a place like that.
Was it too much to ask for it to have been something serious? How was he supposed to talk about his mother with his friends? Perhaps he shouldn't talk with them about demons in the first place.
"That must've been around thirty years ago. Time sure flies. But enough about that."
Margaret sat up straight and cleared her throat. Much of her usual whimsy suddenly left her body, leaving the surroundings somewhat more serious.
"Do you want to try casting illusion magic again? Maybe it'll work now."
Cyril took a light breath, finally recovering from the unfortunate news. At least he didn't remember anything about his mother. That brought down the sense of disgust significantly. To him, it might as well have been news about an unrelated person, or so he thought to himself.
Rhamn, please.
Without getting up from the chair, Cyril raised his hand. Soon a red magic circle formed on his palm.
After it was gone, as if straight from his flesh, grew a beautiful rose with sharp thorns.
Margaret observed it in silence, her eyes hidden behind the witch hat.
"...Impressive! That's a difference of night and day!"
She clapped her hands, her voice genuinely surprised.
"The arrogance in this spell is quite potent. So potent, actually, it makes me a bit scared. You've even changed the color of the circle for some reason. Why the extra effort?" The witch hat tilted to the side in confusion.
"For style. I thought she would understand."
"Does that room really have such an effect on people?"
Cyril waved his hand, dissipating the flower. He side-eyed Rhamn nearby before shaking his head.
"...That 'Room of Reflection' is indeed inhumane," he mumbled.
"Hehe." A chuckle escaped Margaret's lips, enjoying the helplessness in his voice.
Cyril briefly contemplated fixing her misunderstanding but decided against it in the end. It was the perfect scapegoat for his sudden change, even if it's a little embarrassing.
Not a big deal.
"That's a happy development then. Let us resume the lecture from yesterday."
"Let's!"
Cyril slowly nodded. The thoughts of asking something about his mother lingered on his mind. Margaret was right there, and while she avoided the topic, he could try pressing it, yet he didn't.
He ultimately dismissed these thoughts to focus on the lesson, finding no reason he should act on them.
"Let the past be in the past. It won't change anything."
...
For a few hours more, until the sky outside darkened, they studied magic.
Thankfully Margaret taught earnestly, without letting any mischief get in the way.
She was direct with her words and would go over quickly what she knew. Cyril managed to keep up, trying to soak up all the knowledge.
And the more he listened, the more he realized just how difficult illusion magic actually was, not only in the technical aspect. It required 'an active imagination,' as Margaret put it, and sometimes there were simply things you just had to realize on your own.
It was a sporadic spell equally relying on technical preciseness and on a chaotic 'wing-it' mentality.
"...As I've said before. Illusion magic is not my strong point. I am just as much a student of it as you are. In fact, I am counting on you giving me the inspiration I require to excel in it."
"I see." Cyril calmly nodded, not at all put under pressure.
Margaret then stretched, yawning without holding back.
"Alright, it's about time we-"
She suddenly grew silent, her thin smile becoming still.
"Are you kidding me? This again?" she mumbled in frustration, throwing a glance towards the window behind her.
"Some kid doing a stupid thing, as always." Margaret sighed, rubbing her forehead.
Alright. "What's this about?"
Cyril calmly nodded, not reacting in any other way.
Not my business.
"Oh..."
He wasn't interested in the inner workings of the academy. He guessed the principal knew how to handle most situations well enough on her own.
So, Cyril moved to get up from the chair, wishing to leave the room as their session was over.
However, the moment his body left the chair's surface, Margaret sighed again, this time louder.
"..."
He threw her a subtle glance, then continued getting up, now on his feet.
"Such an annoying incident, really. I didn't think they would try to infiltrate the academy..." Margaret mumbled so loudly, like she wanted to give a clue to any possible eavesdropper.
He couldn't see her eyes past her witch hat, but he had a strong inclination she was throwing glances in his direction, practically exuding, 'Ask me more!'
"...What's wrong?"
A part of him wanted to continue leaving, just to see her reaction, but on account of their relationship, he decided not to.
"A pity."
Margaret immediately rubbed her chin, tilting her head in thought.
"I am not sure I should reveal this to a student..."
"Then, I won't-"
"But since it's you, I believe it will be fine!"
Margaret snapped her fingers, and the door to the side opened up. From it floated a dark circular object, all the way to the desk, where it landed with a thud.
"You see!" She grabbed the object, toying with it.
"Our ever-present local nuisance, Lapis, suddenly decided the academy has something they need. A certain stone with the name Ambrosia." She raised the pitch-black stone in her hand higher. "This one."
Of course Cyril knew what it was. The moment his eyes laid on it, he struggled to get them away. The allure of this mysterious stone was just as strong as when last he saw it, maybe even stronger.
Rhamn immediately began salivating near him, putting her whole non-corporeal face on it, futilely trying to take a bite.
Cyril cleared his throat, trying to remove any desire from showing on his face.
"I see. What is it? Why do they need it?"
"It's like a bomb. A question I am more concerned about is how they know this stone is in here... I mean, unless they don't search for the one I am holding."
Cyril calmly stared into the witch hat, his face showing nothing.
"But Ambrosia is so rare I find it hard to believe... Anyways, they've infiltrated the academy one time, but we dealt with that easy enough. Now they are sending students they brainwashed to look for it."
"Right now I detected one misguided youth in the academy's park."
Margaret sighed, melting in her chair.
"I am so sick of them. I would hate to interrupt a professor at this time. If only there was a responsible student nearby to do justice on my behalf..."
"I hope you find him. Seems like a serious issue." Cyril said, trying to avoid looking at the stone in her hands.
He got up, and as he did, Margaret suddenly tossed something in the air.
As casually as tossing a set of keys to a friend, she simply threw the pitch-black stone into his hands.
Cyril reflexively caught it and froze, remaining transfixed. It took all his willpower to not do anything with the stone.
"Why are you giving it to me?"
Margaret elegantly got up from her chair and slowly walked up to him, her heels rhythmically striking the floor.
"I have no need for it. It could be your reward for helping."
"...I wouldn't even know what to do with it."
Cyril stared into that witch hat, failing to get a grasp on Margaret's expression. Her thin lips kept that same slight smile.
"Make a bomb. I don't really care."
Does she know?
"You can ask."
It was hard to get a good grasp of her state. Just as her eyes were hidden from sight, so were her real intentions.
"Come on, don't be lazy," Margaret said, her voice not any different.
"I think it's someone you know out there. So, it's even more suitable for you to go."
Someone I know, from Lapis?