Chapter 21 : Clues
In a secluded corner of the capital, where even moonlight seemed reluctant to linger, Ailiya tied the unconscious hacker securely to a rusty lamppost.
As he groggily came to, he was greeted by a feather gently tickling his foot.
“Awake?”
Ailiya crouched before him, holding a stray pigeon feather, a “kind” smile on her face.
The man blinked, assessed his situation, and felt the faint itch on his sole. He scoffed:
“Ha, kid, this is your big move? Tickling me? I’ve never been ticklish!”
He wiggled his foot provocatively, as if daring her to try harder.
Ailiya’s smile vanished.
Standing, she slowly pulled a kitchen knife from her apron pocket—a “borrowed” item from a black market stall selling “secondhand cookware.”
The blade glinted coldly in the dim light.
“Oh, really?”
She weighed the knife, then crouched again, pressing its cold flat against his foot.
“Let’s see if this tickles.”
The man’s bravado froze, his face turning ashen.
He felt the metal’s chill and weight, the sharp edge dangerously close.
He thrashed wildly, shouting: “No, no, no! Big sister! Heroine! I was wrong! I’ll talk! I’ll tell you everything!”
Under the knife’s “gentle” persuasion, he spilled everything like beans from a split sack.
He’d been paid to hack and alter St. Freya’s magical bulletin board.
But the client was cautious, cloaked in a magical cape, their voice distorted. He didn’t know who they were, only that it was a woman with a generous purse.
Ailiya sheathed the knife, using its polished surface as a mirror to tidy her disheveled white hair and collar.
“Can you… trace her back?”
“There’s… there’s a way…” he stammered, eyeing the knife warily. “I didn’t see her face, but during the deal, I sensed her unique mana signature. I can mimic it, and… you’ve got that tracking compass, right? In theory, if I feed the signature into it, it could lead you to her.”
“In theory?” Ailiya caught the key phrase.
“Y-yeah…” he said, grimacing. “It’s a mimic, so accuracy might be off. There’s a chance… it could point to the wrong person.”
Wrong person…
Ailiya froze.
She knew the stakes. Even the vice principal hesitated to tangle with noble daughters. A powerless maid like her, targeting the wrong one, could face fates worse than the guillotine.
But…
She glanced at the compass.
It was her only path forward.
“Do it,” she said firmly.
Relieved, the man rummaged through his toolkit, pulling out bizarre alchemical devices to replicate the mana signature.
Taking the compass from Ailiya, he examined it, his eyes lighting up.
“Wow, no surprise from a St. Freya lady,” he said, working. “This mana-tracking compass is top-tier. A master alchemist’s work.”
“Is it that impressive?”
“Impressive? This thing’s worth less than a house in the capital’s center, but you could buy a nice villa with a garden in the suburbs.”
Ailiya paled.
A villa?! The vice principal just handed it over?!
She resolved to return it intact and thank Melissa properly once this was over.
The man carefully fed the mimicked mana signature into the compass.
Its needle spun like a windmill, then locked with a crisp “ding,” pointing in a new direction—St. Freya Academy.
“Done,” he said, wiping sweat from his brow. “Should work in theory. Uh… big sister, can you keep quiet about me tampering with the board? I’m just trying to make a living. If St. Freya’s higher-ups find out, I’m done for.”
Even if I don’t say anything, with the vice principal’s skills, she’ll probably track you down soon enough, Ailiya thought.
Your fate’s not up to a lowly maid like me.
But to avoid trouble, she gave a “kind” smile and agreed.
After profuse thanks, she untied him, and he bolted like a rabbit into the night.
Ailiya looked at the compass pointing toward the academy, exhaling deeply.
Tonight, she’d finally made progress.
The next morning, Ailiya rose early.
She dressed meticulously as usual, heading for class, only to remember halfway—she was suspended.
Dejected, she turned back toward the dorm.
Passing the courtyard, she saw a crowd around the magic bulletin board.
Instinctively, she approached.
The students spotted her and scattered like she was a plague, well-bred nobles casting disdainful glances, while spoiled ones pointed and gossiped shamelessly.
“Look, the shameless woman’s back.”
“Such thick skin, parading around after that scandal.”
In just a day, Ailiya had grown numb to the remarks.
But amid the noise, she caught strange, discordant whispers.
“Hmph, anyone hanging with her can’t be good either.”
“Right? That special-admit’s just as arrogant.”
Ailiya frowned, puzzled.
Ignoring the nobles, she headed to the board.
The rumors about her were gone, replaced by new content.
This time, Aurora was the target.
“On the Arrogance and Shallowness of Special-Admit Aurora”—the bold title preceded a list of “crimes.”
It called her an upstart from a minor noble family, accused her of boasting about becoming top student on her first day, and fabricated “evidence” of her mocking teachers and looking down on classmates.
The tactics were identical to those used against Ailiya.
She stared at the glowing, hateful text attacking her only friend.
Something in her usually calm, round almond eyes began to crack.
Slowly, tightly, she clenched her fists.