Chapter 239: Mr. Balcony Ghost

He wasn’t wearing his melancholic, tragic evening wear anymore.

He had completely transformed his aura, adopting the crisp, sterile energy of a professional academic. But the physical markers were unmistakable.

’He infiltrated the estate,’ Seraphina realized, her heart pounding with a sudden thrill of espionage. ’The absolute madman faked his credentials, bypassed Alistair’s background checks, and walked right through the front door.’

"Archduke von Nacht," the tutor greeted, his voice smooth, rich, and perfectly modulated. He offered a crisp, minimal bow. "I am Professor Roan. It is an honor to be accepted into your household."

"The honor is pending, Professor," Kaelus rumbled, his voice a lethal, freezing caress.

Kaelus stepped forward, keeping Seraphina securely behind his leg. He towered over the ’scholar’, projecting his dark mana with suffocating, oppressive intent.

"Listen to me very carefully, Roan," Kaelus whispered, his violet eyes boring holes into the man’s skull. "You are here to teach mathematics and history. If I catch you attempting to charm the estate staff, if you deviate from the approved syllabus, or if you look at my daughter with anything other than strict academic detachment... your tenure will end violently. Am I understood?"

Roan didn’t flinch.

He maintained his cool, CEO-like composure flawlessly.

"I am a man of science and logic, Your Grace," Roan replied, adjusting his glasses. "I have no interest in charm. I am here purely to cultivate a brilliant mind that I heard from Lord Alistair."

Kaelus scowled, entirely unconvinced, deeply hating the fact that this man was objectively well-dressed and had a sculpted face.

"Proceed to the secondary study," Kaelus ordered sharply. "Your first lesson begins now. I will be monitoring your progress."

***

The secondary study was a smaller, sunlit room lined with bookshelves and a comfortable oak table.

As soon as the heavy door clicked shut, sealing them inside, the strict, professional atmosphere vanished.

Roan Charte, the Supreme Archmage of the East, let out a soft, highly amused sigh.

He reached up, pulled the silver-wire glasses off his face, and casually tossed them onto the oak table. He ran a hand through his slicked-back hair, ruining the perfect, gelled style, letting the dark strands fall naturally, messily around his face.

The K-drama CEO melted away, and the chaotic, brilliant trickster returned.

He looked down at Seraphina, a wicked, conspiratorial grin spreading across his face.

"Well," Roan chuckled, leaning against the edge of the desk, crossing his arms. "That was incredibly intense. The Archduke possesses a terrifying amount of hostile energy for a Tuesday morning. I thought he was going to freeze my inkwell. Don’t you agree, little lady?"

Seraphina didn’t smile back.

She marched to the door, grabbed the heavy iron bolt, and threw it with a loud CLACK, locking them in.

She turned around, her small face arranged into a fierce scowl. She crossed her arms over her chest, tapping her tiny leather boot against the floor.

"Alright then, Mr. Balcony Ghost," Seraphina demanded, dropping the innocent toddler act entirely.

Her voice was flat, sharp, and dripping with authority. "What are you doing in my house? And how did you fake a triple doctorate to trick the fussy blonde lady?"

Roan burst into a loud, genuine bark of laughter, throwing his head back.

’Mr. Balcony Ghost? That’s a unique title to call someone, indeed. She is such a cute, peculiar, and interesting kid too. Not like those snobbish little noble kids.’

"Oh, you are magnificent," Roan beamed, absolutely delighted by her aggression. "For your information, I didn’t fake the doctorates though, little one. I actually earned those about eight years ago. They were sitting in a drawer gathering dust since I had no use for them for a long time. I merely updated the timestamps."

"You’re a spy, aren’t you? Trying to infiltrate our estate," Seraphina accused, her dark eyes narrowing. "You saw me on the balcony, you called me Cecil, some strange woman’s name, and now you’ve infiltrated the most heavily guarded estate in the Capital. Did the Shiny Emperor send you?"

Roan’s smile faded slightly, replaced by a look of genuine sincerity.

He crouched down, bringing himself to her eye level.

"I swear to you on the very leylines of the earth, little lady Seraphina," Roan said softly, his pitch-black eyes entirely open and unguarded. "I am not working for the Emperor. I am not a spy for the Capital. And I have absolutely no intention of harming you, your terrifying father, or anyone in this estate."

"Then why are you here?"

Roan hesitated.

He couldn’t tell her the truth. He couldn’t tell her that he was the Supreme Archmage, and he certainly couldn’t tell her that his celestial seismographs had tracked a Supreme-tier dark mana explosion to this exact postal code.

If he accused her or Kaelus of being an anomaly right now, they would raise their guards permanently.

He needed to observe.

He needed to find out how this tiny girl and the warlord with his markers was tied to the violent void magic that had shattered the Capital’s leylines.

"I am an investigator of the arcane," Roan lied smoothly, though he kept his tone light and playful. "And my instincts told me that the most interesting, fascinating mysteries in this city are currently residing in the Nacht Estate. I couldn’t resist the academic curiosity. Besides..."

Roan reached into the deep pocket of his charcoal suit jacket.

With the flourish of a master illusionist, he produced an exquisite, perfectly chilled, pristine white box tied with a silver ribbon.

He popped the lid open.

Resting inside were six flawless, incredibly rare, glowing blue Starlight Macarons.

They were baked exclusively by the High Elves of the Eastern Forest, infused with sweet nectar that literally popped and fizzed on the tongue like stardust.

"...I brought some special bribes for our little lady, surely, you don’t mind them, right?" Roan finished, offering the box with a charming, utterly shameless grin.

Seraphina stared at the glowing macarons.

Her soul, a hardened geopolitical mastermind, screamed at her to reject the offering.