Chapter 172: "Train You"

Accardi District.

7:00 PM.

The Cabrera Library was a two-story building of brick and weathered stone — an old-fashioned structure that seemed entirely out of place amid the gleaming skyscrapers surrounding it.

A fine spring drizzle had left the stone pavement wet and slick by the time Aren stepped out of the cab, an umbrella sheltering her from the rain.

She paused beneath the awning and looked up at the sign above the entrance.

"The Cabrera Library," she murmured to herself. "Yes... this has to be the place."

The main doors swung inward as she stepped inside.

She set her umbrella aside and carefully dabbed her boots against the carpet until they were dry, then looked around until she spotted the librarian seated behind the help desk.

The woman appeared to be in her late sixties. She was completely absorbed in whatever she was writing, her silver hair neatly arranged and her posture remarkably straight despite her age.

A small gold nameplate rested on the desk before her.

Mrs. Cabrera.

Aren’s eyes widened slightly.

’Ah... this must be a library that’s been owned and maintained by the Cabrera family for generations.’

"Excuse me, Mrs. Cabrera," Aren said politely as she approached with an eager smile. "I’m here to see Master Accardi. He told me to ask you when I arrived. May I know where he is?"

Mrs. Cabrera finally looked up.

A faint crease appeared between her brows as her gaze traveled over Aren from head to toe before settling on the cloth bundle hanging from one of Aren’s hands.

It looked unmistakably like a packed homemade meal.

Something in the older woman’s already reserved expression hardened.

"The Cabrera Library doesn’t allow food inside," she said flatly. "You’ll have to leave and eat outside before I let you in."

Aren looked down at the bundle in her hand, her expression turning troubled.

"Ah... this?" she asked awkwardly. "I’m very sorry, but this isn’t for me. It’s for Master Accardi. The last time we met, he didn’t have dinner at all, so I thought... maybe I could bring him something this time."

One of Mrs. Cabrera’s eyebrows rose.

Her expression conveyed such blatant skepticism that Aren almost felt it physically.

’You’re seriously giving Isidore Accardi a homemade dinner?’

’Good luck with that, young lady.’

Nevertheless, the librarian did not object again. She merely glanced down at her notebook and, after a moment, gave Aren her directions.

"First floor. Non-Fiction section. Row Twelve. Look near the large arched window at the back. The staircase is at the rear of this floor."

Aren’s face brightened immediately.

"Thank you, Mrs. Cabrera."

She dipped her head gratefully before hurrying deeper into the library, passing row after row of towering bookcases, until she reached the staircase at the back of the ground floor.

Behind her, Mrs. Cabrera lifted her gaze once more, watching the young woman disappear between the shelves with an expression of equal parts judgment and curiosity.

’A very interesting lady you’ve found, Isidore.’

Only when Aren vanished from sight did she lower her head and return to her notebook.

─ •✧• ─ ✿ ─ •✧• ─

The walk to the first floor was eerily quiet.

Soft golden lights illuminated the towering bookshelves, casting long shadows across the polished floor.

The library was enormous, and the faint sound of Aren’s footsteps seemed to travel endlessly through the empty space.

Yet she didn’t encounter a single person.

Not among the shelves.

Not at the reading tables.

It felt almost as though she had arrived after closing hours, despite the fact that the library was clearly still open.

When she finally found Row Twelve of the Non-Fiction section, however, she spotted Isidore immediately.

He was seated in an armchair directly in front of a large arched window, exactly where Mrs. Cabrera had described.

His gaze was lowered to the thick book resting in his hands, his expression as unreadable as ever.

A tall stack of equally thick books stood on the coffee table before him. Their titles looked incomprehensible enough to Aren that she gave them only a brief glance, before deciding that whatever they contained was probably far beyond her area of expertise.

She quickened her steps and stopped directly in front of him, before dipping her head in a formal greeting.

"Master Accardi. Report ready for the new mission."

Almost immediately, she looked around the vast library, clearly less enthusiastic about being there than she had been a moment ago.

"But... may I ask why we’ve come to the library instead of your office today for the briefing?"

Isidore remained as distant as ever, as though the kiss-training session they had shared the previous week had never happened. He didn’t even lift his gaze from the book as he answered.

"This place has the resources we need for today’s session."

Then, as though he’d noticed the faint disappointment in her voice, he added casually,

"If you’re worried about that plant, I already watered it."

Aren froze.

Her eyes widened.

’He... watered it?’

She blinked several times rapidly, before her entire face lit up with barely contained excitement.

’I knew he’d like the plant!’

"You did?" she asked, struggling to keep her voice composed when her thoughts were practically screaming. "Thank you very much, Master Accardi."

She stepped toward the coffee table and carefully placed her dinner bundle beside the tower of books, then retreated a polite step.

"Before we start..." Her voice softened. "I noticed you didn’t have dinner last time, so... I thought you might skip dinner often. I brought you something today."

She hesitated, suddenly feeling far more self-conscious than she had anticipated.

"Do you... happen to like braised beef with potatoes? That’s what I brought today."

That finally made Isidore stop reading.

He lowered the book slightly and looked directly at her.

For several seconds, he simply stared.

A flicker of genuine surprise crossed his otherwise impassive features, so brief that Aren might have imagined it if she hadn’t been watching him so closely.

"You made it?"

Aren nodded eagerly.

"Yes. I made it in the Sartori kitchen all by myself."

The memory of preparing the dish brought another bright smile to her face.

"It’s... um, one of the first recipes I learned, and I’ve made it thousands of times. So I can guarantee it won’t taste too bad! I also made sure to wash all the ingredients properly and followed hygienic standards throughout, so you don’t have to worry about that either!"

Isidore’s expression remained perfectly impassive as he listened to Aren enthusiastically ramble on about how eating the food wouldn’t give him food poisoning.

That wasn’t even his greatest concern.

His real concern was the look on her face.

It was exactly the same bright, determined smile she’d worn the last time she’d brought that absurd plant into his office.

By now, his mind had learned to recognize that expression as the one she adopted whenever she had decided, with absolute certainty, that she was going to give something to someone.

After what had happened with the plant, Isidore had also reached another life-altering conclusion: arguing with her while she wore that smile was futile.

Worse, it was an invitation to lose an argument so thoroughly that he would have no dignity left afterward.

’There is no point.’

So, rather than protest outright, Isidore said nothing. He simply closed his book and placed it neatly atop the towering stack on the coffee table.

"I can eat braised beef and potatoes," he said.

He made no promise that he would actually eat it. But apparently, that distinction didn’t matter to Aren.

"Thank you!" Her face somehow brightened even further. "I hope it won’t disappoint you. I’m ready for the briefing."

"There is no mission today," Isidore said flatly.

Her smile faltered.

"No mission?" she repeated, thoroughly confused. "I thought the mission last time provided enough intelligence for us to launch a fast, strategic strike against more of House Ombra’s facilities."

"Theoretically, that would be the next course of action," Isidore agreed calmly. "However, my team is still working on decoding several of the encrypted files. Furthermore, making another public appearance in such a short period could make them suspicious of us."

Aren’s brow furrowed.

"Then why did you summon me here today?"

He lifted his gaze to meet hers.

"It’s about the press conference on Thursday."

Her eyebrows shot upward.

"The press conference?"

There was no reason for her to be surprised that he knew about it.

Jeremiah Castellano had promoted the event so aggressively that practically everyone in Borgata had heard about it.

What surprised her was that Isidore Accardi was interested in it at all.

"Why are you interested in that event?" she asked. "Has an Ombra operative infiltrated it? Or..." She paused, studying his impassive expression. "Are you interested in that sort of entertainment?"

"Neither," he replied evenly. "It’s about you."

Aren stared at him.

Then she pointed at herself.

"Me?"

"More specifically," he continued with the same calm detachment, "how you’re going to handle the press. After the last mission, I concluded that your social skills are insufficient. Allowing you to handle the press in your current state would almost guarantee that your true identity is exposed."

He held her gaze steadily.

"That would threaten your contract with House Accardi. Therefore, it’s a matter I need to address today."

The explanation finally cleared up Aren’s confusion, but an awkward expression quickly replaced it.

"But... Master Accardi, regarding that matter, I believe someone will be arranged to answer the questions on my behalf. You don’t need to worry about it."

One of Isidore’s brows lifted by perhaps two millimeters.

"And give people even more reason to doubt your identity?"

Aren fell silent.

"Long-term drug abuse can cause severe psychological instability," he continued evenly, "and an abrupt change in personality can therefore be explained as a consequence of that. But Ariana Lombardi sitting silently through an entire press conference is another matter."

His gaze sharpened.

"That would give half of Borgata reason to question whether you are actually Ariana Lombardi by Friday. Your behavior has already changed drastically enough in recent weeks. Don’t give people more reasons to doubt you."

Aren lowered her gaze and fell quiet, carefully considering his reasoning.

She couldn’t find an obvious flaw in it.

After a moment, she looked up again.

"Then... how do you wish to address this matter?"

"Train you."

The answer came so simply that Aren stalled.

Isidore leaned back slightly in his chair, his expression unchanged.

"You asked me to teach you more, didn’t you? Today’s session will be preparation for the press conference. By Thursday, you’ll be able to handle the press on your own."