The doors clicked shut, sealing the quiet archive off from the rest of the underground market. Inside, the Archivist remained seated behind the desk.
Wearing the disguise of a short-haired messenger girl — complete with a neat black bob, a dark coat, and a plain half-mask, they leaned back into the leather chair, staring at the empty spot where Leo had stood moments ago.
A low chuckle broke the silence of the room.
"...What a strange little prince," the Archivist murmured, resting their chin against a folded palm. "House Celestial certainly breeds oddities."
The game of three questions had been enlightening. The Archivist had expected the infamous 'Drunken Trash' of the Celestial family — the worthless, useless heir everyone in the domain whispered about.
But instead, sitting across the desk was a cold, sharp boy who handled a binding Mana Oath Contract without even flinching.
