Two attendants of the Church entered, looked around, and asked without much suspicion: "Sir, when did you arrive at this restaurant? Did you leave at any point?"
Earlier, though the area in front of the wax museum had become deserted due to the explosion, there were still gondolas plying the canal. Someone had spotted that the person who launched the fireball was a young man in a black top hat and monocle, though the distance was too great to make out his features clearly.
And the moment black top hat and monocle were mentioned, Olief immediately recalled that young man, so he sent the attendants out to search everywhere. But Lucian had his top hat and glasses to conceal his appearance, and the scene had been chaotic at the time—the description Olief gave, apart from the clothing, was only that the man had black hair and black eyes.
Now, the Lucian standing before the two attendants didn't match any of those conditions besides the black hair and black eyes, so they merely conducted a routine inquiry.
"Nine forty," Lucian answered calmly. "I arranged to meet this lady here to discuss matters. I haven't left the restaurant at any point." He deliberately emphasized "restaurant" in order to mislead
Grace naturally continued: "Mr. E—ah, this gentleman and I have been here the entire time discussing the art of piano performance. He hasn't left the restaurant." With their interests aligned, she was completely defending Lucian—and she was also genuinely certain that Lucian had only stepped out briefly to the washroom and hadn't left the restaurant.
"Your testimony is trustworthy." The knight attendant smiled with gentlemanly grace, then said, "Miss Grace, you've always been a pianist I admire."
After a cursory search, the two knight attendants departed with undisguised envy—this noble young master was surely using the excuse of discussing music to court Miss Grace.
Seeing the private room door close, Lucian smiled: "Shall we continue discussing piano performance?"
Actually, even a formal mage would find it no great difficulty to kill Brown once his Divine Arts talisman was depleted. But the biggest problem and the key to the assassination lay in how to avoid being surrounded and killed—or tracked and captured—by the surrounding Night Watch members and knights.
And making Brown "voluntarily" flee his protective perimeter was the best approach!
Without the improved version of "Charm Person" that had minimal magical fluctuations and was easily masked by other effects, without the support of the Sterk Magic Parliament's forces to draw away most of the Night Watch, and without Miss Grace—a woman of considerable standing—to provide "testimony" on his behalf, Lucian would never have attempted to assassinate Brown. No matter how quick-witted he was, no matter how much his psychological resilience had strengthened over the past year of ordeals, there would have been no hope at all—because the mages here were no fools. Any conventional method he could think of, they would certainly have thought of too!
"Of course," Grace answered happily. Mr. Evans's personal guidance had been the key to her rapid rise to fame—she hadn't expected it to become a reality now.
Lucian guided Grace patiently through piano technique until nearly noon. Only while waiting for lunch did he slowly ask: "Grace, have you thought about what you'll do from now on?"
Grace fell silent. Previously, in seeking Mr. Evans's forgiveness, she had cited all manner of life's hardships as excuses—though they were indeed true, such as her parents' bankruptcy and the resulting lawsuit. But in the quiet of night, when she examined her conscience, she realized that vanity and greed had been the primary motivations. She opened her mouth and said with difficulty: "Mr. Evans, I'll do whatever you want me to do."
"You did me a great favor, helping my friend and Mr. Granuf resolve their past matters. For that, I'm truly grateful," Lucian said sincerely. "If you want to begin a genuine music career, then take your family and go to Altor. Only there can you learn the latest compositional styles and meet one talented young musician after another—they'll be the best motivation for you to push forward. And I'll acknowledge your status as my student and write letters introducing you to Mr.
"Mr. Evans, you—?" Grace's shock was written plainly on her face.
Lucian waved his hand: "At least I did genuinely coach your piano performance, didn't I? But if you'd rather use my student status to enjoy a comfortable life in Sterk, then I'll take an attitude of neither confirming nor denying—I won't expose you in the newspapers, but I also won't provide you any letters of introduction or proof."
"Two paths. The choice is yours."
Grace stared at the white tablecloth, sinking into deep silence. Going to Altor would mean embarking on a difficult struggle—because in the City of Music, even with the halo of Mr. Evans's name, it would be nothing more than ornamentation. There were countless brilliantly talented young musicians there. Without real compositional skill and performing ability, the status of being Lucian Evans's student would instead become an immense burden—Mr. Christopher's son being a case in point.
To truly benefit from that halo, she would have to study hard, practice diligently, and hone her creative abilities. It was foreseeable that this would be a fulfilling but arduous life—the slightest lapse and she would be crushed by the pressure.
Staying in Sterk, on the other hand, would unquestionably be luxurious, glamorous, wonderful, and pleasant. When she grew older, she could even marry a wealthy merchant. The only thing missing would be genuine growth on the path of music.
Lucian didn't press her. Whatever she chose made no difference to him, and he felt no particular pity for her—he was simply following the principle of fair exchange. After all, passing that note for him had been quite risky; the recipient was Granuf, a contact of the Magic Parliament.
Of course, if Grace chose the first path, Lucian would think slightly more of her—not everyone could give up easy, comfortable pleasures to embark on a life of genuine effort.
Knock, knock, knock—the sound of the waiter bringing lunch roused Grace from her thoughts.
She came back to her senses, her gaze shifting, and after the waiter left, she spoke with determination in her voice: "Mr. Evans, I'm going to Altor. Actually, after the music festival I had already planned to stay in Altor."
Lucian spread his napkin and cut into his steak: "I'll write letters to Mr. Christopher and my teacher,
The two chatted about various interesting anecdotes at the Altor
"What is it?" Grace asked, her voice light and cheerful now that she had made her decision.
"Grace, it's us." The voice of Green, the relatively quiet violist from the old orchestra, sounded from outside.