Arthur finally stopped at the garden's core, the heavy canopy of ivy filtering the midday sun into a dim, dappled glow. He turned to face her.
Celeste immediately practically bounced on her heels, her grin predatory and bright. "Is this where you want to fight?" she asked, her voice echoing off the ancient stonework.
Beneath his flawless exterior, Arthur's mind halted. What? I have never given such an indicator. He tilted his head, his face a portrait of gentle, saintly confusion. "Fight? Whatever do you mean, Lady Celeste? What gave you the idea that I wanted to fight you?"
She leaned in close, punching the air with a playful, chaotic rhythm. "This is what you wanted! You were sizing me up the entire first period." She giggled, a breathless, excited sound. "This is a great opportunity! That red-haired swordsman has delayed me for the last three months, but forget that. Let's fight now!"
Arthur kept his gentle smile pinned in place, though his clinical intellect surged with a mixture of contempt and caution. What a brutish way of thinking. Fighting Vicktor every week must have made her as aggressively impulsive as he is. He rapidly assessed her threat level. She is a mage with Intermediate-rank Proficiency in the four core elements, and has formed three Magic Circles. Objectively talented, but still a child. Her casting speed and reaction time are no match for my sword arts.
Yet, the true danger had nothing to do with magic.
I am not a noble, Arthur reminded himself, the cold reality of his fraudulent existence pressing down on him. If I harm the sole heir to the Devreux line, she could simply send assassins to kill me in my sleep.
"Is a competition the only way to resolve this?" Arthur asked, already expecting the answer.
"Yep!" Celeste gleefully replied.
"Well, we wouldn't want to break the Academy Rules—unsanctioned fighting outside of classes and destroying property are strictly forbidden," Arthur reasoned, his voice smooth and persuasive. "So, how about we compete in a different way?"
Celeste stopped bouncing. She watched curiously, exercising a rare, trembling patience as Arthur reached into his high-collared uniform. He withdrew a Platinum Academy credit.
The moment the heavy silver coin caught the dappled sunlight, Celeste beamed with an intensity that eclipsed anything she had shown before. A faint trace of drool gathered at the corner of her lips as her amber-gold eyes locked onto the shiny object.
"We will let our luck compete," Arthur explained, holding the coin up between his fingers. "By spinning this coin. Whoever guesses which side lands face-up correctly will win."
Celeste didn't blink, her gaze welded entirely to the platinum disc.
"If I win," Arthur said, closing his hand around the coin, "please forgive me for my disturbance earlier today. And I promise to never disturb you again."
"Hmm..." Celeste vocalized, a thoughtful hum vibrating in her throat. She finally dragged her eyes up to meet his. "What do I get if I win?"
Arthur paused, projecting the illusion of careful consideration. "Anything you want. If you win, I will do anything you ask, so long as it is feasible."
He felt a dark satisfaction settle in his chest. There's no way you'll win, though. I've alchemically altered this credit, making the heads side two times heavier than the other. It's statistically impossible for the coin to land tails face-up!
"Alright, I accept these conditions," Celeste declared, throwing her hands up. "I choose tails!"
Good, Arthur thought, his mind purring with victory. A lucky guess, but not unaccounted for.
"Very well, I'll take heads then," Arthur smiled warmly. However, to guarantee absolute safety, he decided a secondary manipulation was required. "But first, let me swap the coin. I fear that some accumulated dust on this one may affect the fairness of this competition."
He reached back into the same pocket, his nimble fingers bypassing his primary trick coin and swapping the heads-heavy credit with a secondary, tails-heavy one.
Celeste watched his hand slip into his pocket. She watched it with unnerving, unblinking intensity. Her eyes remained fixed on his closed fist even after he retrieved the replacement coin. The suffocating weight of her gaze made the silence in the overgrown garden stretch agonizingly.
"...Is there a problem, Lady Celeste?" Arthur inquired, a microscopic fraction of his unease bleeding through his polite tone.
Celeste's bright grin faltered into a slight, confused frown. "It's so weird," she murmured, pressing a hand to her chest. "My body is telling me to pick heads now..."
Arthur's inner composure violently shattered. Is she serious? What kind of supernatural instinct—
"Can I switch? Pleaseee?" she begged, her childish tone entirely at odds with the devastating tactical blow she had just delivered. Before Arthur could formulate a response, she added lightly, "And please feel free to use a new coin. I wouldn't want the dust to affect the fairness."
She spoke the words with bright, friendly innocence. But to Arthur's paranoid mind, it registered as a lethal threat.
Could her eyes detect the microscopic imperfections I left during the transmutation process? Flaws I couldn't even see myself?! Panic flared hot in his chest. If she knows, then there's no way I can proceed with the rigged pieces. But I do have one other coin...
Arthur violently suppressed the spike of adrenaline. He forced his facial muscles to relax into a portrait of saintly accommodation.
"Of course, milady," Arthur conceded.
Moving with deliberate, exaggerated transparency, he set the tails-heavy coin onto a nearby mossy stone railing. He reached back into his pocket, withdrew the initial heads-heavy coin, and placed it right beside the first. Finally, he reached in one last time, his fingers closing around a standard, untampered Academy credit.
"Are you ready?" Arthur asked. Despite his absolute mastery over his persona, a faint, undeniable sheen of anxiety tightened his features.
Celeste bounced on her heels, responding with playful anticipation, nodding rapidly and making bright noises of agreement.
"Alright."
Arthur flicked his thumb, sending the coin spinning across the flat surface of the stone railing.
The silver disc blurred into a violent, metallic hum. Both of them leaned over the railing, their eyes locked intensely on the spinning metal.
Arthur felt his heart slam against his ribs, the rhythm frantic and sickening. This coin is just a regular Academy credit, he thought, the cold dread pooling in his stomach. Free of any tampering, and precisely equal in mass on both sides. A game that I have absolutely no control over... His fingernails dug into his palms. The exact helplessness I told myself to avoid. This cruel and despicable...
A single drop of cold sweat broke from his hairline. It traced a slow, agonizing path down his cheek, finally dropping onto the stone wall with a microscopic pat.
At that exact moment, the spinning coin wobbled, lost its momentum, and collapsed flat against the stone.
Arthur stared at the silver metal.
Tails face-up.
...Hope? The alien thought short-circuited his mind. His intellect stalled, struggling to process the unmanipulated outcome. She had switched her guess to heads. The coin landed tails.
Arthur slowly lifted his gaze. Across the railing, Celeste was already looking up at him, her lips parted.
"You won," she said, the words slipping out in a breathless whisper of disbelief.
I won!
A massive, overwhelming wave of euphoric relief crashed through Arthur's chest. The suffocating tension evaporated. For a fleeting second, the saintly mask wasn't a mask at all. He smiled—a warm, radiant, and entirely wholesome expression born from the sheer, profound relief of his own survival.
Celeste stared at his face. She processed the raw, unfiltered relief shining in his amber eyes. Slowly, a bright, melodic laughter bubbled up from her chest, echoing clearly through the overgrown garden.
"Ha... Alright. I forgive you," she giggled.
Arthur watched her, realizing something had fundamentally shifted. Her luminous amber-gold eyes, usually so erratic and disconnected, were no longer endlessly wandering the periphery. For the first time since he met her, they were anchored—completely and genuinely focused on a single target.