- - - 2.1 - - -

It was 7:00 pm now. The twins and Kidlat were soundly asleep and I had finished what I was doing. So I went out of the room and walked to the railings and looked up to the sky – the sun was low, and the sky was beginning to darken – I looked down to where the courtyard was. It was beautiful, looking more closely, I could see butterflies flying all over the garden. On each corner of the courtyard, large trees grew – I didn't know what species but it had peculiarly-shaped leaves. I might need to ask Shura about requisitioning ingredients in the garden.

“I see you like the garden, too,” a sweet voice chimed in from behind me, prompting me to turn around and see an angel.

“Hello, I’ve never seen you here before, but I'm Manami Yukimura. And you?” Her black hair was tied in a high ponytail, her dark-brown eyes seemed to stare through my very soul – I’m a bit of a romantic, apparently – and she had this most alluring smile. Her white skin was glistening under the light of the descending sun. The pink Harrington jacket she wore hugged the contours of her body—

“New student, enrolled just recently,” A smooth voice snapped me out of my trance. “Juan Xavier Lee… seeming to suffer from memory loss,” Shura was looking at me with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m not an amnesiac,” I shouted at him, then I nodded to Manami, “Y-Yes... that's, um, me… Juan Xavier Lee.” I’m the epitome of smooth, right now. I bet I looked like an idiot just staring at her. How long was I staring at her? And now that I see it: she's half-a-head shorter than me which only added to her cuteness.

Manami giggled. “Well, if you're not suffering from memory loss anymore,” she held my hands, bringing them to her breast-level and stared at me with lovely, round eyes, “you gotta go to the Viscount's Trump this evening, it's gonna be great!” she then released my hands and took off, but not before giving me and Shura, a wave and a mesmerizing smile.

I felt a Grinch's smile creep onto my face. I could still feel her hands touching mine. I think I'm becoming a pervert, or something, because I didn’t want to wash these hands. I turned to Shura, a profound smile on my face. “Who was that?” A stupid question leaked out of my love-struck mouth

He stared at me with that blank look of his. “I believe, she made introductions,” he shrugged and his face seemed to relax, “to answer your question: Manami Yukimura – as she said, before. Japanese Designate, moniker: Ken-no-Miko. Eighteen. Witch – Third Level, Clypeus-Aspirant. Secretary of the Garden Society, rumors abound that they’re recruiting new members. Cited as one of the top beauties of the school – tentative ranking: third place.”

I glared at him. “You know her or something?” It's kind of weird that he'd have detailed information like that. “She’s a Godborn? Designate? Clypeus-Aspirant? Witch? Are you saying she's an evil seductress? Tentative ranking: third place? Do you have that kind of information on me? When and where are they recruiting? And why are you even here?” I needed to know certain things to satisfy my desire for knowledge... yes, knowledge.

“Questions… questions,” Shura let out a soft yawn, "Yes, we are acquainted. Yes, she is Godborn. Typically, a country’s most-promising magus. Apprentice-magi that seek to enlist in the Court of Peers. A practitioner of witchcraft. No. Tentative, because polls were stopped due to tampered votes. And no but I will, after a few days or so. Next week: Tuesday at 4:00 in the afternoon, the Viscount's Trump's parking lot – suggestion: arrive early… about a quarter till 3:00, place will be crowded by 3:30 – and I came to inform you, that I was reassigned as your temporary Mentor-magus," he turned his head to the sky and looked back at me, "we’re going to the Trump now. ‘tis only a few minutes by walking." And he started walking.

Sighing deeply, I resigned myself and followed him. While walking, I looked around the building, it was mostly made of wood but the floors felt like marble. "So, can you tell me what your relationship was with, um, Signy?" I might as well ask questions. Mental note: Tuesday. Before 3:00 in the afternoon. The Viscount's Trump. Wait, Manami’s a Godborn? Damn. It looks like I’m way out of my league. I wonder what she was doing in the dormitory. Where was the Rider’s Wait, anyway? She must’ve been tending the garden, or something. She’s so sweet.

He groaned. “Listening to people is not your strong suit, isn’t it?” he said without looking back, “She is, as she said, she was: a colleague of mine.”

I furrowed my brows. “A colleague in what, then?” I get the feeling that he was forced to not say anything more than that, which only piqued my interest more. Perhaps, they’re intimately involved, and if so, lucky him, but I doubted that. I mean sure, he had a face – I mean everyone has that – but, come on!

“I feel a strong negativity in your idleness,” Shura yawned, “let us just say that… the fact of the matter will reveal itself, soon.” Why not just tell me that now, though? I wanted to ask, but refrained, because I believed he’d just insult me or say something that was subtly an insult. And that hurts.

Shura was right, the Trump, was just a few minutes away. The Viscount’s Trump was a small café with the usual modern style: white walls, plastic tables, white sofas, large glass panels, white furniture, etc. but the paintings that hung on the walls were, apparently, based on the Major Arcana of a tarot deck. It looked like the place only had five or six people, must be a slow night or it was just too early.

I took a seat – one of those long, bar-stool kinds –, by the counter, because Shura said so. On the wall, behind the counter, there was a mana-screen – so huge, you might mistake it as the wall. It was currently showing a commercial about the new mana-phone that was coming, a pointless gadget from my perspective.

Sitting on my right side was not Shura, but a young lady, who coincidentally turned her head, meeting my gaze, she smiled and I smiled back. “Um, name’s Xavier,” I gave her my most-accommodating grin. I took a good look at her and she was beautiful. She had the features of a curvaceous Mediterranean native, slightly-tanned, white skin and golden-brown hair done in a fishtail braid that flowed over her large breasts – a wonderful contrast to the slim, flat-chested Manami. They were drawing me in.

“Hi, I'm Althea Kokinos,” a lovely soprano tickled my ears, breaking the spell that had a savage hold on my being.

I regained my senses, snapping out my daze, and saw the short pretty woman, left arm outstretched towards me. I shook it. “Juan Xavier Lee.” Wait. Didn’t I just introduce myself? I thought while driving thoughts of lowering my gaze to her chest, away. I swear my eyeballs were metal and her breasts were magnetic.

Then with reluctance, I pulled away my hand and noticed that she was giggling. Well, I made an ass of myself.

“Thea,” a bored voice sounded. It was Shura standing behind Althea Kokinos, forcing her to turn around. Where’d he come from? And where’d he go? “It seems you have met the new student.” He yawned, contorting his face a bit, but not too much to make it noticeable.

Thea looked at me with sparkling eyes, then back to Shura. “Are you going to make him work here?” she asked Shura, “I mean, it might be good for the Trump, um, to have new eye-can—fresh faces, right? Yes, that… new faces that’s what the Trump needs.” She was looking at Shura with puppy-dog eyes.

Shura sighed. “That depends on him…” he looked at me. “You needed money, right? The Trump has an opening, but first…” he walked closer, started writing on the air, and stabbed his forefinger on my forehead.

Then, information in the form of a Word Document came rushing through my head. “Althea Kokinos. Greek Designate, moniker: Autokrateira Mitera. Nineteen. Sorcerer – Fourth Level, Clypeus-Aspirant. Treasurer of the Circle of Arcane Knowledge. Revered as Mother Aphrodite – don't misunderstand, epithet is because of her beauty, not because of promiscuity, which, for I have known her for many years, is non-existent.” I swear, the words felt cold, even though I was just reading it, sending shivers down my spine. "Tentative ranking: second place.”

“Shurie!” Thea was standing now – whoa! She’s a head shorter than me – and started banging Shura’s chest. “You used an information rune again! I don’t want him knowing about me through that. I mean, he seems pretty decent!”

Shura looked at me and if you looked very closely, you could see his left eyebrow rose very slightly, and then he looked back at Thea. “Your acquaintanceship was just very recently confirmed. How could you possibly decide that he is as you think he is?” Is it just me or did he forget that I was only two feet away from them?

“B-But…” Thea looked to be pouting, pleading with Shura. “H-He’s not a wolf! At best, he’s a puppy…” Well that struck a great blow in my self-confidence. I’m glad she thinks I’m not a horn-dog, but the alternative isn’t really that… good.

“Pups become wolves,” Shura said, “and besides, gentlemen are just very, very patient wolves.” What does that make you then?

I thought their argument was finished, but Thea wouldn’t back down. What an angel! Wait, why am I here, again? “You’re just quoting Lana Turner and if he’s a wolf with great patience, what does that make you then?” she asked. It seems we had the same question.

“A lapsed wolf,” he answered.

Okay, I don’t care anymore. I turned to the left side of my chair, and saw a grumpy-looking, young man who looked to be my age, and very huge – he was a half-a-head taller than me while we’re sitting! He was watching the mana-screen, very intently. I looked at the mana-screen, too. It was now showing a school-sponsored duel. It must be held at the Field of Battle. “So, um…” I said to the grumpy-looking, young man, “who’s, uh, fighting?” Why’d I even strike up a conversation with him, anyway?

“I’m nothing like Yahya!” I heard Shura shout. Well, what amounted to a shout for him, really. It sounded more like a static recording that had its volume raised by a level.

The grumpy-looking man glared at me, blue eyes almost covered by his sandy-blond hair. Is this where I get a fist to my face? “Liv Johanna Falk and Alina Sultan,” he said—grunted, really. I was almost disappointed that I didn’t get a fist to the face—wait, what?

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