CHAPTER 88: THREE’S A CROWD—OR A PARTY

"We survived hours of mental torture and now we’re pulling a midnight heist?" Cynthia said with a joking tone, hands on her hips, her voice laced with playful disbelief. A half-smile tugged at her lips, though the faintest trace of exhaustion still lingered in her eyes.

"I’m not complaining," Marcus replied casually, glancing over his shoulder toward the moonlit square behind them. His hands were tucked loosely in his coat pockets, his posture relaxed, but a glint of anticipation shimmered in his gaze.

"The night’s still young."

"So where should we find information on this myth of ours?" he asked, brows raised as he shifted his attention back to Cynthia.

"Going to an inn itself to ask might be risky," Cynthia said thoughtfully, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as her tone grew more serious. "Two students from the academy heading to an inn together at night will definitely spread another kind of rumor..."

Marcus chuckled under his breath. "A random passerby then?"

"Hmmm, that definitely sounds better..." Cynthia nodded, tapping her finger against her chin as if weighing the pros and cons of local gossip channels.

But before they could go further into their impromptu investigation plan, a sudden voice pierced the stillness of the alley.

"...Marcus? What the hell are you doing here?"

The voice was trembling, confused—and unmistakably familiar.

Like a cosmic joke tossed in by the universe, another figure emerged from the shadows.

And it was no other than Aveline.

She wore a deep, shadowy cloak that concealed her features, giving her the look of an assassin slipping through the night.

"Sis...?!" Marcus blinked, completely thrown off as his eyes widened in disbelief. The confusion that flickered across his face was mirrored almost perfectly on hers.

’Of all the people I expected to run into tonight, Aveline was dead last on the list.’

’She looked like she’d stepped out of a shadow opera—and sounded ready to ground me.’

Cynthia stood quietly between them, her wide eyes darting from one sibling to the other like a child caught in the middle of a brewing family spat. "So much stuff is going on..." she muttered under her breath, puffing her cheeks with an exaggerated sigh.

"What are you doing here!?" both Marcus and Aveline shouted simultaneously, their voices overlapping in a chaotic harmony as if they were two actors reading from the same dramatic script.

"I thought you were supposed to be staying at the academy for the whole night!?" Aveline shouted accusingly, her arms folded and foot tapping like a furious older sister catching a sibling sneaking out.

"Don’t tell me you skipped classes!?" she added, narrowing her eyes.

Marcus scowled, immediately firing back. "And what are you doing here at this time? You’re supposed to be at home!"

Aveline rolled her eyes with the dramatic flair only a sibling could master. Then, pointing at Cynthia with theatrical intensity, she declared,

"Hah!? You have the gal to tell me that when there’s a girl right beside you walking around dressed like some noble’s midnight mistress!?"

Cynthia blinked, taken aback. She glanced down at her outfit—simple, elegant, maybe a bit too refined for a late-night stroll—but not scandalous by any means. With an exasperated sigh, she clapped her hands sharply, catching both of their attention with a sharp snap.

"Okay, enough of this. Let’s take turns explaining, one at a time," she said, her tone stern but fair—like a teacher mediating a classroom spat.

Both siblings paused, realizing the absurdity of the moment. They exchanged glances, then begrudgingly agreed.

"Fine," they muttered in unison.

Cynthia snorted softly. "Like brother, like sister..." she murmured with a small amused chuckle.

After a few minutes of talking it out, the trio ended up crouched in the alleyway like they were part of some secret back-alley negotiation. Their shadows flickered under the dim streetlamp, their conversation hushed but animated.

"So... you managed to finish the academy’s test early and are out on a date...?" Aveline said flatly, one eyebrow raised as she looked between the two with a judgmental expression that could rival any noblewoman’s.

"Pretty much," Marcus shrugged, not even attempting to deny it. He turned to her with a sly smirk. "And as for you..."

Aveline folded her arms and lifted her chin, adopting a defensive tone. "Fine. I asked Mom and Dad for permission to go out because I’m working on a bestiary assignment. I’m investigating a recent myth."

She paused, then added with a hint of suspicion, "Professor Lain mentioned a surge in magical fluctuations tied to old legends. I thought it was just academic fluff—until it started lining up with you sneaking off."

Marcus lifted an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Really...?"

"Yes, really." Aveline tilted her head stubbornly. "Stop being so suspicious. I’m telling the truth..."

Before another sibling squabble could ignite, Cynthia jumped in once more, hands raised like she was stopping a magical explosion mid-cast.

"Really!? Are you investigating a recent myth as well? That was our plan, too." Her eyes lit up with excitement, and a hopeful grin tugged at her lips.

"How about we join forces for tonight?" she asked brightly, stepping forward and offering her hand to Aveline, her energy almost infectious in its sincerity.

Aveline eyed the hand warily, then looked back at Marcus with a skeptical squint. "Teaming up with Marcus... I never thought I’d live to see the day..."

Marcus responded in classic Marcus fashion—by sticking out his tongue.

Aveline sighed dramatically, but eventually relented. She straightened her posture and reached out, clasping Cynthia’s hand with a firm nod. "But you seem reliable... Sure, why not."

Then, with a sudden burst of mischief in her eyes, she pulled Cynthia in a little closer, leaning toward her ear like a co-conspirator about to spill a scandal.

"But you’ll have to tell me the juicy details of your relationship..." she whispered, her voice tinged with amusement and playful curiosity.

Cynthia blinked, caught off guard for a beat.

Then she smiled and let out a soft chuckle. "Sure, but it won’t be that interesting..."

A faint magical pulse stirred the air—a reminder that even the brightest conversations couldn’t smother the mystery waiting ahead.