Navia narrowed her eyes as she gazed at the empty space where Lark had been.
"What exactly is the power of Duke Eseled?"
He is definitely a wizard, but Black Moon doesn't react, and yet he used explosion magic and space teleportation magic.
The force that lifted her seemed like psychokinesis.
"Sigh..."
Her head was getting complicated.
'But he accepted me.'
Though there was a condition of one year, she received permission to stay here.
Even if she is not registered as an adopted daughter, the mere fact of staying here was advantageous for Navia.
'Thank goodness.'
Navia felt exhausted and tired as if she had used a lot of magic.
Feeling drained, the forgotten pain from the wound that had opened earlier due to Theorban surged back.
'Theorban, that man won't just step back quietly.'
But considering the earlier situation, it seemed Lark was just being still for some reason, and Theorban couldn't recklessly attack.
'He probably can't use poison openly, so he might try to drag me outside.'
Anyway, she was in a relatively safe situation now.
'I should talk to Duke Eseled about confirming the wizard's contract depending on the situation.'
What she had to do now was to wait.
'To make a move officially, the royal family has to decide clearly about my disposal.'
Nikan won't send an assassin to silence her if he deems her still useful.
Then she felt a piercing gaze beside her.
When Navia turned her head, she saw a woman with mint-colored hair tied in one and wearing big glasses.
"Ah!"
The woman was startled, dropping the bag she was holding.
Its contents seemed to be medical tools.
Given her white coat, she was probably a physician.
Still, Navia spoke up first.
"Are you okay?"
Navia approached to help pick up the dropped bag.
The woman quickly gathered the fallen items and nodded vigorously.
"Yes, yes! I'm fine."
The woman greeted her with a very nervous expression.
"Pl-Please speak comfortably. I am the personal physician, Minerva Hart."
The term 'personal physician' narrowed Navia's eyes for a moment.
Even if the master of the family was not sick, it was common to have a personal physician.
Usually, young masters would just have a physician.
It was unexpected because Lark seemed like he wouldn't need a personal physician at all.
'Maybe he is sick and can't leave the mansion? That's why he needs the anesthetic herbs...'
Navia thought she knew something about Lark, but it only made him more unpredictable.
"I am Navia."
There was a moment of silence.
Minerva seemed very timid.
She kept looking at Navia, a mere child, unable to speak and fumbling.
Eventually, Navia spoke first.
"Are you... going to examine me?"
"Oh, yes!"
"Then I'll go to the bed and lie down."
Minerva looked at Navia, amazed at how she could precisely guess what she wanted without saying a word, and opened her mouth wide.
They entered the bedroom.
As Navia lay on the bed, Minerva checked her condition while conscious and reexamined her wounds.
"Did Minerva treat me?"
Minerva jerked her shoulders at the sudden question, then looked around nervously and replied in a subdued voice.
"Yes, yes..."
Why did she ask that? Did she not like the treatment? Was she going to scold her?
"Thank you."
"...Huh?"
Navia stared down at her hands.
The wounds that were horribly everywhere when she saw them in the carriage were all meticulously treated.
She felt the kindness in it.
"I've never seen someone treat me so kindly. So, thank you."
"Ah..."
Minerva's face flushed hotly at the unexpected praise and words of thanks.
'Wow. I got praised.'
"Oh, no... It's just my duty."
Physicians usually cared about their own benefits and tended to avoid children like her who weren't advantageous.
Despite this, Minerva was not impatient.
Navia smiled a little.
"I'll ask you to take good care of me from now on."
"Huh...!"
Minerva bowed her head and started to pack her medical bag.
"Treatment is all done... I'll go out now!"
"Oh, okay. Thank you."
Minerva, who had just heard the word 'thank you', blushed and quickly bowed, then rushed out.
'She seems to be a very shy person.'
Navia blinked, sighed deeply, and sunk into the bed.
"I'm hungry."
Should we go find some food now?
Navia endured her hunger until she couldn't resist the sleep that was pouring out and closed her eyes.
* * *
The room where Navia was was on the 2nd floor.
It was a usual thing for guests to stay on the 2nd floor.
And the space where Lark moved was the 3rd floor corridor.
The new corridor was dark with the dim light that came in through the window, casting a calm blackness on the floor.
There was no one on the 3rd floor.
Not only people, but also the walls and ceiling that should be filled with golden light were empty.
It was just filled with darkness and emptiness.
"Suleiman."
Suddenly, an old gentleman with gray hair appeared in the space where no one was.
He was Lark’s aide, Count Suleiman Genegar. Although he only had a title and no land, it was very rare for a count to claim to be no less than a secretary of a Duke than the Imperial family.
Suleiman had already pledged loyalty to Lark a long time ago.
"Speak, my lord."
Suleiman rushed out to the main entrance and found the girl in Lark's arms.
The girl was a muddy mess.
Her clothes were wet and muddy.
Suleiman expected that Lark would throw away the girl who had lost her mind and say, "Throw it away."
However, Lark did not say that.
"Spare her."
It was a happy thing for Lark to show interest in others.
But that child was Nikan Agnes's foster daughter, Navia.
Suleiman continued to hide his presence and stayed close to Lark, watching everything Navia was saying and doing.
And the child seemed quite... dangerous.
'Even if we exclude the fact that she is Agnes, she is a very mysterious child. Keeping such a child in this house is not good.'
It was not a powerful natural disaster that would break down a bank but a small crack.
Suleiman thought Navia was the small crack that would break down this place.
Lark said something.
"Handle it as the kid suggested."
"...My lord, it might be better to just send her back with Wood Agnes. There's no way Nikan hasn't prepared any measures for her. Like brainwashing, for instance."
But Lark didn't mind even if such assumptions were true.
"I already told her she has a year. Do you intend to make me go back on my word?"
Suleiman lowered his head helplessly in response to Lark's firm words.
"I will obey your command."
With that, he left the third floor to execute the order.
Silence settled in.
Lark walked slowly to his room.
He could have used magic to instantly reach the bedroom on the third floor, but he chose not to. Time held no meaning for him anyway.
He didn't need to hurry.
The sound of fabric rustling was the only presence in the silence.
Deep shadows cast across his face, giving him an aura of wearing a half-black mask, as if draped in darkness.
It was the demeanor of a master controlling a place devoid of excessive warmth.
Lark suddenly glanced out of the window.
"There hasn't been snow on this day before."
His colorless gaze returned to the pitch-black corridor, absorbing the desolate scene.
It was a bleak sight that might send shivers down anyone's spine. Could it be helped? This place was a massive mausoleum disguised as a mansion.
A place where the undying lived as the living.
Lark was a 'Infinite Regressor.'
