Chapter 10: Truth and Consequences

Klein and Adèle departed one after the other, leaving Lia utterly alone in the room.

She stood frozen, her gaze fixed on the tilted dinner knife and the scattered peas on the table, a sinking feeling in her stomach telling her she had stirred up a monumental mess.

The situation had spiraled completely out of her control.

All she had wanted was to study magic in peace, reclaim her family’s estate after graduation, and live out her days quietly in this new world.

And now?

Not only had she overturned a century-old axiom, but she had also driven an archmage into a frenzy—an archmage who was now inviting another to witness the spectacle.

Lia collapsed back into her chair, snatched a half-eaten piece of bread, and took a savage bite.

‘What if that Master Laplace is some stubborn old traditionalist who decides to challenge me on the spot?’

‘What if the experiment fails?’

‘What if…’

The more Lia thought, the more her head ached.

She finally shoved the rest of the bread into her mouth, chewing furiously to vent her anxiety.

She lost track of time until, at last, the heavy door swung open once more.

Klein had returned.

Following behind him was an elderly man with silver-white hair, clad in deep purple robes trimmed with gold.

The old man was not tall, but his steps were steady, and his face was etched with kind wrinkles.

Lia’s heart leaped into her throat.

‘This must be Master Laplace.’

Laplace’s eyes swept across the room before settling on Lia.

He offered her a gentle smile, then turned his attention to the desk.

Instead of inspecting the experimental apparatus, he walked straight to the desk and picked up the parchment covered in five equations.

Klein stood to the side, silent, not wishing to disturb him.

The silence in the room was unnerving.

Lia could feel her heart pounding in her chest, each beat heavy and thunderous.

Laplace read slowly, meticulously.

Suddenly, a plain silver ring on his finger glimmered, and a thick, leather-bound notebook with worn edges materialized in his hand.

He opened the notebook to a page filled with dense symbols and derivations.

Lia’s sharp eyes caught something—some of the symbols on the page bore a striking resemblance to the uniformly accelerated linear motion formulas she had “fabricated,” yet they were far more cumbersome and complex, as if stuck at a crucial impasse.

As Laplace compared the two documents, his expression shifted from calm to astonishment, then from astonishment to dawning realization, finally settling into a complex mixture of excitement and regret.

The quill on the table lifted of its own accord, hovering before him.

He began to work, referencing both manuscripts as he rapidly amended, supplemented, and derived new conclusions in his notebook.

New symbols replaced old ones; lengthy arguments gave way to concise equations.

He was completely lost in his own world.

A long while later, Laplace let out a deep breath and closed his notebook.

He looked up at Klein.

“Whose brilliant work is this? The definitions are perfect, the derivations flawless. I’ve been wrestling with this problem for years, and to think it could be solved so elegantly.”

Klein’s expression remained unreadable.

He simply stepped aside, revealing Lia behind him.

“It was her.”

Laplace froze.

His gaze fell upon the little girl standing by the desk, her face pale with nervousness, barely tall enough to see over the tabletop.

“Her?”

“Lia. My new apprentice.” Klein’s introduction was as brief as could be.

Laplace walked around the desk and approached Lia, crouching down to meet the little one at eye level.

“Child, did you… come up with all of this yourself?”

Lia’s mind went blank.

She opened her mouth, unsure whether to nod or shake her head.

“I… I saw it in an ancient tome.” In the end, she fell back on the same excuse Klein had already seen through.

“An ancient tome?” Laplace chuckled. “Could you tell me its name? Perhaps my own vast library contains a copy.”

A cold sweat began to prickle Lia’s skin.

“The book… it was destroyed.”

“What a terrible shame.” Laplace’s smile didn’t waver. “You have a remarkable gift, little one. Have you any interest in coming to my tower? It houses the most extensive collection of books in the entire kingdom, not to mention sweets and toys specially prepared for a child your age.”

Lia was stunned.

‘Is he… trying to poach me right in front of my own mentor?’

Before she could react, a hand rested on top of her head.

Klein had approached without her noticing.

He stood behind her, his palm on her hair, gently pulling her closer to him.

“Master Laplace, she is my apprentice.”

“I know that.” Laplace stood up, looking at Klein with an amused grin. “But a promising sapling deserves a better environment to grow. This place of yours is too dreary for a child.”

“It is perfectly fine here.” Klein’s reply was sharp and decisive.

“You don’t even have a proper garden.”

“She has no need for a garden.”

“You don’t even know how to smile.”

“I will teach her what is most important.”

“But I can make her happy.”

“Truth is more important than happiness.”

Caught between the two archmages, listening to their back-and-forth, Lia felt less like a person and more like a rare magical artifact being haggled over.

She wanted to say something, but the hand on her head pressed down with a slight, firm pressure, silencing her.

Finally, Laplace shook his head, conceding the argument.

“Very well, since you treasure her so.” His tone shifted, the smile fading from his face to be replaced by a serious expression. “Klein, do you intend to make the contents of this parchment public?”

“Of course.”

“Have you considered the consequences?” Laplace picked up the parchment. “Every word on this is a slap in the face to those old fools who cling to the theories of the ancient masters. Publishing this will stir up a bloody storm.”

Klein let out a soft scoff.

“A pack of fools who clutch at flawed theories, refusing to even test or discuss them. I couldn’t care less about their opinions.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Laplace’s expression grew graver. “I’m talking about the paper’s attribution. Whose name are you going to put on it?”

The question seemed to freeze the very air in the room.

Laplace continued, “If you sign your own name, the worst they can do is call you arrogant and heretical. But if you put this child’s name on it…”

He left the sentence unfinished, but his meaning was painfully clear.

An unknown apprentice proposing a subversive theory. Those radicals, unable to refute the theory itself yet unwilling to admit their own errors, would direct all their malice and aggression toward the one defenseless source.

Assassination, curses, kidnapping… the world of magic has never been short of dark methods.

A chill shot up Lia’s spine, straight to the crown of her head.

‘All I wanted was to graduate! How did I end up about to be hunted by every mage in the world?’

“Then let them come.”

Klein’s voice was calm, but his words made both Lia and Laplace freeze.

The hand on Lia’s head did not move; if anything, it grew steadier.

“I don’t care whose name is on it.”

“All I know is that if those fools lack the courage to face the truth, and instead choose to destroy a genius who could lead us all toward progress…”

Klein paused, enunciating his conclusion, word by deliberate word.

“If they dare to come, I will dare to kill.”