freenovelworld Chapter 120: Isabel Steps into the Rain
Chapter 120: Isabel Steps into the Rain
Until Aiwass began teaching, Isabel hadn’t appeared in her seat.She’d promised to attend his lecture and paint his portrait.
Her absence left Aiwass slightly disappointed.
But he set his feelings aside and focused on assisting Professor Bard. Teaching deepened his own understanding.
The lesson was about Star Antimony, covering Valentin I’s impact on the kingdom, spiced with anecdotes from his life.
These weren’t game secrets—Valentin I, a commoner-turned-founder, had more folk tales than historical records.
This was Aiwass’s self-study for the week. He’d been reviewing Star Antimony’s language through Valentin I’s biography. Though fluent enough to read , his reading speed was slow. Language needed constant practice to avoid fading.
Fortunately, Aiwass learned quickly.
He’d finished and was nearly done with .
This week, he planned to borrow and complete and .
Both were Imperial-era texts on the Adaptation and Dusk Paths, written in Star Antimony’s near-identical Imperial tongue.
The former overviewed six Adaptation Path skills—traps, assassination, poison, medicine, deception, and divination—while the latter was an introductory necromancy text.
Though not Secret Tomes, they held mystical knowledge.
The best way to hide his true Path affinity was to borrow books on all Paths. With his speed, nothing was wasted.
Halfway through the lecture, Aiwass noticed students glancing toward the door.
He looked back twice, seeing nothing, but suspicion grew. During a water break, he caught Isabel’s head peeking silently from the front door.
Bard, clearly aware, had pretended not to notice. Only when Aiwass spotted her did the old professor chuckle.
During the break, Aiwass had Lily wheel him out.
“Why not come in? Isn’t it tiring painting outside?”
He tried to glance at Isabel’s canvas to see her work.
“Wait, don’t look!”
Isabel reached to cover it, but her small hands couldn’t. The wet paint and lack of a cover made it tricky.
She resorted to covering Aiwass’s eyes, whispering, “Wait till it’s done… Half-finished magical paintings look awful.”
“Fair enough,” Aiwass agreed easily.
He wasn’t overly curious—if she didn’t want him to see, he wouldn’t look.
After ensuring he wouldn’t peek, Isabel slowly lowered her hands.
Aiwass opened his eyes to see her cheeks slightly flushed—perhaps from the close contact or the cold.
“Not coming in? It’s freezing out here,” he asked softly. “Didn’t you say you’d audit my class? You can’t hear anything from outside.”
“…The canvas is too big, and I’ve got paints and potions,” Isabel said, troubled. “I’d take up several seats, and the paint might stain others’ clothes, causing trouble.
Plus, I worry someone in the front row might bump my table and ruin a stroke. So, I stayed outside—the sunlight’s nice anyway.”
“Then paint by the podium,” Aiwass suggested. “It’s too cold out here. You’ll catch a cold.”
It had rained all day yesterday, leaving today damp. Late November’s chill had reddened Isabel’s fingers.
she thought.
Knowing “Fox” was Aiwass, she trusted his Illumination skill. Even before enrolling, his right-hand Illumination was priest-level, easily curing minor ailments like colds.
But she kept quiet.
Saying it might seem childish, overly reliant, like a little girl.
She knew such behavior would earn indulgence now, but she’d grow up, lose her youthful charm, and become a burden—especially as a royal, potentially a future queen. That could spark national resentment.
Isabel’s ideal self was mature, resolute, reliable, and charismatic, effortlessly trusted and admired, like Aiwass, Haina, or her grandmother—the undeniable center of any crowd.
Aiwass faced reporters’ toughest questions with confident, perfect answers, his eyes gleaming, unshaken by jealousy or malice.
She strove to be like that but felt far behind, leaving her a bit dejected.
Today, seeing Aiwass teach, he was exactly as she’d imagined.
His lips curved upward, exuding warmth and ease; his voice was clear, pleasant, and strong. Though seated, his expressive gestures and rhythmic speech captivated students, sparking gasps or laughter.
A lecture leaving students wanting more—she’d never heard of such a thing. It was like a performance or a stirring speech.
The last time she saw this was the Grand Protector’s twenty-minute oration, electrifying the crowd.
But that relied on the Authority Path’s “Leadership” skill, including command, inspiration, and pacification. Aiwass achieved it with words alone.
she thought.
The idea struck her: lacking Authority affinity herself, she could entrust the kingdom’s power to someone trustworthy with that Path.
Lost in thought, she flinched as Aiwass leaned forward, placing a hand on her forehead. Warm light mana flowed, soothing her chilled forehead.
Feeling the light mana, she snapped out of her reverie, expression tightening.
“No fever…” Aiwass said, bemused. “Why the daze?
Stand out here longer, and you get sick.
I know you’re shy about being watched. But don’t you want to be like me, speaking confidently to a crowd? You need to get closer to learn.
Observe me, observe them, place yourself in the scene. Like actors draw from life, you need to watch me closely to gain the courage you want, right?”
He gently urged Isabel.
Saying, “You’ll get used to being stared at,” might make her doubt herself.
But framing it as, “Watch me to gain courage,” would focus her on him, letting her gradually adapt to scrutiny and realize it’s no big deal.
Before she could respond, Aiwass leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially, “By the way, you know… Sherlock’s fine, right?”
“…I know,” Isabel replied instinctively. “Teacher told me but said not to interfere. He’ll be at next month’s advancement ritual… You knew too?”
“Good,” Aiwass’s lips curved. “If I pull a Sherlock next week, don’t worry about me.”
“You too…?”
Isabel was surprised.
After a moment’s thought, she said earnestly, “Need my help?”
“…Help with what?”
Her response caught Aiwass off guard.
Emboldened, Isabel tested, “I could help you stage it… make your plan more convincing? You know I’m a [Polymath]… Since the last ritual, I’ve started studying performance.”
She hesitated, lowering her voice. “Or maybe not… I might mess it up…”
“No,” Aiwass interrupted. “I do need you, Isabel. Badly.”
She looked up, meeting his radiant, sunrise-like eyes.
He smiled encouragingly. “I really need you. If you perform well, it’ll help me immensely. If this goes smoothly, by next month’s ritual, you’ll fully shine.”
She didn’t want to be a decorative vase, a protected liability. She wanted to be a reliable ally, like Aiwass.
Isabel’s gaze hardened. “I’ll do it.”
A clear resolve formed: she’d complete this task, no matter what.
“Then come inside, Isabel,” Aiwass said, signaling Lily to open the door. “You’ll face far more scrutiny then. This isn’t practice—it’s learning; not training, but a trial. Emulate me, bear their gazes—can you do it?”
“I can,” she answered without hesitation.
She followed Aiwass into the classroom. This time, she painted until the end.
Despite curious, teasing, or nosy stares from classmates, her hand didn’t tremble. Every stroke was perfect.
She surprised herself with her steadiness.
It was like waking from a dream, the world suddenly clear.
When she resolved to “do it no matter what,” the once-sharp gazes couldn’t touch her.
Others’ malice and scrutiny were just a rainstorm.
Before, she’d tried shielding herself, only to look pathetic and weak.
Now, with a goal, she realized the rain was just rain. Compared to true crises, it was nothing—weak, laughable to the strong.
Her heart had been too fragile, her spirit too delicate, to fear it.
Rain could wilt flowers, but she could be more than a flower.
As the second hourglass emptied, Isabel’s final stroke fell.
The painted Aiwass raised his hand, his profile confident, spirited, eyes blazing—not in a classroom, but against a fiery red-purple sunset.
Staring at her work, Isabel resolved: