Within days, Kirine and Ares had begrudgingly adapted to their shared bed. The novelty of such an unwelcome arrangement wore thin, leaving Kirine with a persistent undercurrent of gloom. Mornings were particularly unpleasant when Sasha’s early awakenings forced their eyes to meet across the bed.
Kirine sighed, her usual morning lament as she arrived at her palace laboratory. The thought of growing accustomed to this new life was both horrifying and disheartening.
“Chief, you look unusually bright today. Is something good happening?” Cecil asked, his voice filled with genuine curiosity.
Kirine’s incredulous gaze met her own reflection in the mirror. No trace of happiness was evident. “Good? Far from it,” she replied dryly. A flicker of doubt crossed Cecil’s face.
Does this person have any sense or not? Kirine thought, glaring at Cecil. Then, a sudden pallor washed over her.
“What did you just say?” Kirine demanded, her voice sharp.
“Me? Oh, I asked if something good happened,” Cecil replied, clearly confused.
“No, before that,” Kirine clarified.
“I said you looked unusually bright today?” Cecil ventured.
“Right before that,” Kirine insisted.
“Chief…?” Cecil trailed off.
“Yes, that!” Kirine exclaimed, clapping her hands for emphasis. “You called me Chief.”
Cecil’s eyes widened in surprise. “You became the Chief of the Imperial Magic Department last year.”
Kirine covered her mouth in disbelief. “Unbelievable!” she exclaimed. Her heart pounded with excitement.
Is this what they call a human victory? she thought, a surge of pride filling her. Becoming the head of the imperial magicians had been her lifelong dream. And now, it was a reality. Eight years of hard work had finally paid off.
The thought of her potential wealth brought a sly smile to Kirine’s lips. Money was her lifeblood, her ultimate truth. Potion-making, with its inherent dangers and grime, was the quickest path to riches. She imagined a substantial sum tucked away, perhaps in a private vault, secured by a complex password.
Cecil interrupted her musings, approaching with a document in hand. “What is this?” Kirine asked, her curiosity piqued.
“It seems to be a thank-you letter from the organization you’ve been sponsoring,” Cecil replied.
Kirine pointed to herself, incredulous. “Sponsoring? Me?”
Cecil nodded, confirming her statement. “Yes, you’ve been consistently sponsoring them for six years.”
A hollow laugh escaped Kirine’s lips. This was a new level of absurdity. She had heard it all, or so she thought. But Cecil’s unwavering demeanor sent a chill down her spine.
“Are you serious?” Kirine pressed, her voice steady despite the turmoil within.
Cecil nodded matter-of-factly. “Of course.”
The world seemed to tilt on its axis. Kirine took a deep breath to regain her composure. No, stay calm, she commanded herself. Even if she had sponsored a cause, it would have been a mere token gesture, a superficial act.
The absence of any memory about this philanthropy left her with a gnawing sense of unease. “Do you know how much I’ve donated?” she asked, her voice steady despite the growing dread.
“Not exactly, but I believe you donate about half your salary every month,” Cecil replied.
“Half? Half my salary…?” Kirine echoed, disbelief creeping into her voice.
“No, I think it’s more than half,” Cecil added.
The euphoria of her newfound success evaporated instantly. A leaden weight settled in her stomach. This was akin to discovering a supposed gold bar was actually worthless lead.
Fury ignited within her. She clenched her fists and surged to her feet, her movements predatory. “Are you out of your mind? I’ve been donating that much?” she demanded, her voice rising.
Cecil shrank back, fear in her eyes. “Uh, well…”
“And you, as my assistant, didn’t stop me?” Kirine pressed, her anger escalating.
“Why are you getting mad at me…?” Cecil whimpered.
Realizing the intensity of her outburst, Kirine took a deep breath and returned to her seat. “Wow, this is insane,” she muttered, her mind racing. Sponsoring something was absurd enough, but sponsoring this much?