Chapter 22 | Reincarnated as the Hero’s Childhood Friend, Then Saving the World

Late at night, in the Student Council office.

Margarita was slumped over the back of her chair, swaying it back and forth. In front of her were action reports piled into two small mountains.

I did say I have a bit of stress resistance when I took the job, but I don't think I ever said I wanted to die at my desk.

“A consultant needs to understand everyone's combat habits.”

That’s what the President had said. Then she had Peter place every single report from the past three months on the table.

Dammit, is there another trap? Just because I dumped two noble families on you... How petty. If you have any leads on Arlan, I’ll shove those your way too! And I’d do it again!

...

The next morning, Lovell, unable to find Margarita in their dorm, made her way to the Student Council. She eventually found the sleeping Margarita buried under a heap of files.

The girl was curled up amidst a pile of reports, a crystalline glint of drool at the corner of her mouth. She was using her Magic Department uniform coat as a blanket, with several open reports resting on top of her.

Lovell leaned in to take a look. She still wasn't very literate, and the sight of the reports—covered in dense handwriting of various ink colors—made her head spin. Picking up a quill that had fallen to the floor, she began to tickle Margarita's nose with the feather.

“Wakey-wakey~ Little Mari~”

Margarita furrowed her brows, rolled over, curled into a smaller ball, and drifted back to sleep after murmuring a few words in her dreams.

Lovell’s hand paused for a moment before she chased after her to continue the tickling.

“Achoo!”

Margarita sprang up from the pile of reports, her white hair a messy nest and her face clouded with the confusion of someone who had just woken up. She looked at Lovell, who was shaking with laughter, and scratched her head.

“How long was I out...?”

“Breakfast service is over. I brought you a roll.” Lovell pulled a paper bag from her vest and handed it to Margarita. The bread was a bit cold but still smelled wonderful. Margarita began taking small bites.

“You know, you were talking in your sleep just now.”

Margarita’s chewing froze. She hadn’t said anything she shouldn’t have, had she? If Lovell found out she was investigating her master, her favorability would probably plummet to zero...

“What did I say?”

“I couldn’t hear it clearly. Something about ‘If you dig one more hole, I’ll bury you in it first.’” Lovell set the quill back on the table and crouched down to look at Margarita. “What time did you go to sleep last night?”

“...I forgot. Anyway, it was after the last report.” Margarita glanced at the reports spread out beneath her. A corner of a Diestwald noble record was poking out, showing a unicorn surrounded by olive branches.

“Little Mari.”

“What is it?”

“Have you been investigating something lately?”

“Why do you ask?” Margarita acted naturally, pulling her coat on. “I’m just looking at action reports from the last three months. I’m a consultant; I need to get to know my teammates.”

“You’re investigating Arlan City.”

Margarita’s arm froze halfway into her sleeve. She looked up, her confused expression failing to switch to her habitual gentle smile in time, leaving her face stuck in a stiff middle ground.

Lovell crouched before her, her amber eyes staring at her without a hint of a smile.

Margarita finished putting on her coat, her movements regaining their usual composure. Her mind raced. She had to find a way to talk her way out of this with Lovell.

“I am indeed looking for leads regarding Arlan,” Margarita said, keeping her tone as steady as possible. “The Special Action Group needs the intelligence. it has nothing to do with you.”

“Nothing to do with me?” Lovell tilted her head. “Then why were you shouting my master’s name in your sleep?”

Margarita’s fingers stopped on her coat button.

Fine. No need to find a way out.

“Little Mari.” Lovell stood up and patted the dust off her knees. “While you were tossing and turning, you said ‘Grey Reed’ several times. You also said ‘Diestwald.’ I might not be able to read, but I can recognize names.”

Margarita sighed inwardly. She had indeed slept poorly last night, her mind constantly churning through those clues; she must have kept her mouth busy even after falling asleep.

“I was indeed investigating leads in Arlan, and they are indeed related to the Diestwald family,” Margarita admitted. “Grey Reed’s name appeared in the files. He had dealings with the Diestwald family ten years ago.”

“Dealings,” Lovell repeated the word.

“The file lists it as ‘theft,’” Margarita said. “Multiple counts. The targets were always the Diestwald family warehouses.”

Margarita watched her. Lovell’s eyes were bright, her amber pupils almost transparent in the afternoon light. She was waiting for an explanation, and that explanation would determine what happened next.

“I didn’t want you to go back to Arlan to ask your master,” Margarita said, her tone sincere. “The timing of when Grey retired is linked to the Sacrosanct Circle. Questioning your master might get him involved. I didn't want you to take risks because of my investigation.”

Lovell looked at her for a long time.

“Little Mari,” she said, her voice lower than usual. “Do you think that because I can’t read, I’m easy to fool?”

“I don’t...”

“You do.” Lovell took a step forward, leaning her hands on the edge of the table as she stared into Margarita’s eyes. “You think I can’t read the files, so you can just make up an excuse to brush me off. You think I won’t put two and two together.”

“I didn’t mean it like that...”

“Then what did you mean?” Lovell’s voice rose. “You’ve been investigating my master’s business for days without saying a single word to me. If I hadn’t brought up Arlan today, were you planning on keeping me in the dark forever?”

Margarita opened her mouth. She wanted to say yes, and she wanted to say no, but in the end, nothing came out. Because Lovell was telling the truth. She had indeed planned to keep it a secret, to investigate the lead to the end before saying anything, or perhaps not say anything at all.

“My master raised me for over a decade.” Lovell looked down at the floor, her voice muffled. “He never told me what he used to do, and I never asked, because I knew he must have his reasons for not saying anything.”

She looked up.

“But you shouldn’t be the one to decide whether I get to know or not.”

“Lovell...”

“Do you even know what you’re investigating?” Lovell interrupted her, her tone suddenly sharp. “The Sacrosanct Circle, cults, nobles, things from ten years ago—do you think my master never told me about that stuff? Do you think he stopped because he suddenly grew a conscience?”

Margarita was stunned.

“He told me one thing.” Lovell looked at her, her lip twitching into a wry smirk. “He said, ‘Lovell, don’t steal from nobles when you grow up. Those people are filthy; once you’re stained by them, you can’t shake it off.’”

“At the time, I thought he was just teaching me how to pick targets.”

The office went silent for several seconds. The dull sounds from the training grounds and the distant chiming of a bell echoed from outside, but the sounds felt like they were coming through a layer of water.

Margarita stood by the table, looking at Lovell’s face. That face, usually grinning with its snaggletooth on display, was now expressionless. Her amber eyes looked straight at her, containing something Margarita was seeing for the first time: distance.

“You don't respect my master,” Lovell said, her voice very soft. “I really don't know who my master stole from, why he stopped, or what connection he had with those nobles.”

“I...”

“You investigated his business, hid it from me, and made decisions for me. You think you’re protecting me, but you didn’t even bother to ask me once.” Lovell picked up her bag and walked toward the door. “He’s my master; he wouldn't hurt me. And you, Margarita? How long have you even known me?”

She reached the door and paused.

“My master stole from countless nobles in his life, and yet he’s still dirt poor, living in that broken shack without even a decent coat to his name.” Lovell’s voice drifted back from the doorway, her back turned to Margarita. “But he raised me. He didn’t let me starve, and he didn’t let me touch those filthy things.”

She turned her head slightly, her profile unreadable in the morning light.

“So don’t talk about him in front of me. You can investigate, but once you’re done, don't tell me a single thing.”

The door closed.

Margarita stood where she was, staring at the closed door. Sunlight slanted through the window, hitting her face and casting her shadow onto the corkboard behind her. She stood there for a long time, until the training ground bells rang once more, before she slowly sat down in her chair.

She buried her face in her hands.

Her temples throbbed. She hadn't slept well last night, hadn't eaten well this morning, and now she had just had a massive fight with Lovell.

She could have explained herself just now. She could have said, “I didn't mean to disrespect your master; I was just afraid you’d be impulsive and something would happen if you went back to Arlan.” She could have said, “I’m investigating because I care about you and I’m afraid you’ll get dragged into trouble.” She could have said, “I’m sorry.”

But she hadn’t said anything.

Because Lovell was right. She really did think that because Lovell couldn't read, she could just make up a reason to fool her. She really had made decisions for Lovell, deciding what she should and shouldn't know, and where she shouldn't go or take risks. She treated Lovell like someone who needed protecting rather than a partner she could stand beside.