Chapter 52: Familiarity is the key to success

Deep cleaning was no easy task for Charis.

F

Xaska Magic Academy was vast.
Charis followed Ophelia out of the apartment for the first time, heading toward the distant teaching building.

“Ugh… this dress is so tight.”

Charis wore a yellow sunhat and a light blue dress, looking every bit a refined lady—Ophelia’s clothes, naturally.

“Today, I’ll show you the route.
Aisha said the disguise potion isn’t ready yet, but it’s quiet today, so no need for it.
We’ll just get your name and file registered.”

Ophelia waved a tan folder containing Aisha’s overnight-crafted documents.

“I haven’t even seen the file.
What if they ask me something—how do I answer?”

“Just… uh, nod and say, ‘It’s all in the file.’”

“You sound so experienced.”

“That’s how I registered—did it solo.”

Ophelia’s past needed no elaboration—she was a self-reliant noble, though her sleepwalking left a deep impression on Charis this morning.

“I’ll memorize the route.
But you promised—today’s compensation for your mistake.
I almost lost my purity!”

Charis shivered at the memory of the morning’s binding technique—Ophelia had too many tricks, treating her like a pillow and playing with her like a constrictor!

“It was an accident.
I rarely sleepwalk, especially not in the morning.”

“But I caught you during a flare-up—talk about bad luck!”

Charis glanced at her chest, relieved it was only grazed, not pinched—still acceptable.

“I’ll make it up to you.
Hurry up, we’re short on time.”
Ophelia gripped Charis’s hand tightly.

“Hey, slow down!
This dress you put me in—I can’t walk fast!”
Charis stumbled along, the fancy outfit chosen by Ophelia to fit the “long-lost cousin” image.

The archive room was in the teaching building.
Ophelia led Charis through a shortcut, a winding path through the forest flanking the road.

Rustle, rustle.

Ophelia crouched, pulling Charis through the dense foliage, the breeze and whispering leaves accompanying them.

A white vista appeared ahead, and before Charis could react, Ophelia scooped her into a princess carry.

“Wait! What’re you doing?”

“It’s a bit high, and we’re short on time—we need to jump.”

“Jump where?”

Charis felt her body sink as Ophelia dashed out of the thicket, leaping forward.

Whoosh!

Leaves fluttered, revealing gray-white steps below.
Charis realized they were on a three-to-four-meter-high platform, and Ophelia was jumping to the next one!

Thud!

The fall was swift, but Ophelia closed her eyes, the heavy sensation offset by a subtle force.
She opened them, finding Ophelia landing steady with a slight knee bend, still holding her.

“Get down.”

“Oh… okay.”

Charis slid from the princess carry, brushing her skirt, her gaze on Ophelia complex.

“What? Something on my face?”
Ophelia tucked wind-tousled white hair behind her ear, her simple white work outfit and sleek ponytail giving a dashing vibe.

“Nothing, just… you’re pretty agile.”
Charis meant to say “showing off,” but pride stopped her—she was still sore from the morning’s unconscious bullying and held a grudge.

“If I wasn’t agile, I wouldn’t have caught you back then.
Let’s go register.”

Ophelia smiled, taking Charis’s hand toward the teaching building.

The building gleamed white, adorned with star-blue crystal strips on its pillars.
Pushing open the ornate door led straight to the archive room.

Half an hour later, they left the archive room, returning to the steps, finally able to relax.

“Your registration’s done.
This is your freshman invitation letter—give it to your class leader on orientation day.
Class assignments will be based on your magical essence aptitude.”

Ophelia finished explaining, and Charis nodded.

“Got it.
Now keep your morning promise—whatever I buy today, don’t wince.”

“As long as it’s within my means, I’ll cover it.”
Ophelia nodded, knowing she owed Charis for the morning’s fiasco.

“Great, let’s hit Charn’s Market Street.
Besides the brewing pot, you’re buying me auxiliary materials and potion books.”

“You’re all about potion-making?
Nothing else?”

“I’ll buy what catches my eye.”

Charis’s demands were reasonable, following Talos’s advice for resources.
She’d white whored plenty so far—more wouldn’t hurt, especially on Ophelia’s dime.

Seeing Charis’s “bargain-hunting” mindset, Ophelia felt guilty.
The morning’s sleepwalking invasion weighed on her—she hadn’t compensated enough.

‘Raising Charis is cheaper than I thought.
Her potion stuff was already promised, and the herbs and pot are covered.
Auxiliary materials are cheap.

Maybe I should prepare a heartfelt gift for her—something meaningful.’

Ophelia didn’t realize her care for Charis was growing, far beyond treating a pet.
Few owners doted like this.

“Are we taking the main road now?
Ugh… this dress is tight.”

Charis touched her chest, the outfit constricting, making breathing hard—no wonder she couldn’t run.

“The dress…”
Ophelia stared at Charis’s chest, suddenly realizing something.

“It’s too small.
Luline’s clothes were comfier, but they got ruined by that monster chase.”
Charis sighed—Luline’s saintess robes were so roomy, not restrictive.

“Charis, want new clothes?”
Ophelia offered.

“Huh? You’re buying me some?”
Charis raised an eyebrow—she’d only worn hand-me-downs, never owned her own.

“Yup, I’ll take you to Charn’s Market Street to pick a few.
You need your own for school.”
Ophelia nodded, confident this was good compensation.

“Since you’re offering, I won’t hold back—I want the best.”
Charis’s tail instinctively rose, quickly pressed down by Ophelia.

“I promised, but don’t get so excited you flash your tail—someone’ll notice.”

Ophelia had a thought: the best clothes should be handmade.

She wouldn’t just buy clothes—she’d make

.