"Were you with Berry last night?" Lang asked, his eyes narrowing. He clearly didn't trust Ganin's motives, but the gravity of his cousin's condition meant he couldn't afford to ignore even the most unlikely lead.
"Yes," William replied.
Unlike what Ganin had expected, William didn't stammer, lie, or attempt to flee. He admitted it with a level of calm that was unsettling for a boy in a porter's uniform.
"See? I told you! Hahaha!" Ganin's laughter erupted like he had just won the lottery. He slapped his thigh, his eyes dancing with a cruel, triumphant light. He could already see the Long Clan's executioners sharpening their blades.
"I was with the young miss last night as she stepped in to save me from that disciple," William continued, his voice steady.
He didn't just stop at an admission; he pointed a finger directly back at Ganin, mirroring the accusatory gesture from moments before. "He was harassing me, and she couldn't stand his behaviour."
"You..." Ganin's laughter died instantly. His face flushed a deep, angry purple, and he looked as though he were about to lose his cool entirely.
Ganin was notorious within the Academy for being a vicious bully, a man who derived pleasure from crushing those beneath him in status and power. However, he prided himself on his reputation as a "refined" second-grade disciple.
If he lunged at a lowly porter in front of Lang, he would only prove William's words true. In his mind, though, it didn't matter. He believed William had already dug his own grave by admitting to being the last person seen with Berry.
Lang, meanwhile, watched the exchange with a calculating gaze. He didn't seem surprised by William's claim. He looked at William's simple, white porter's clothes and recognised the station immediately.
In Lang's mind, William's story fit the established patterns of reality perfectly: Ganin was indeed a toxic bully, and Berry was indeed a young woman of legendary kindness who would never stand by and watch a servant be mistreated.
"Then what happened?" Lang asked. He didn't drop his interrogating tone, but William caught the slight, almost imperceptible pause before he spoke—a sign that the young master's internal bias was shifting in his favour.
"She was angry," William said, his finger still pointed firmly at Ganin, his eyes locked onto the bully's. "She was angry at that disciple who gave her dirty nicknames and tried to humiliate her in front of his cronies. She couldn't stand his toxic tongue."
"Do you want to die?! Brother Lang, don't believe a word of this bullshit!" Ganin exploded. He could barely contain the urge to strike. He took a single step forward, his hand twitching toward the hilt of his sword, but Lang shifted his weight, moving to stand squarely between the porter and the aggressor.
"Easy, Brother Ganin," Lang said. His tone was chilly and devoid of even a speck of genuine respect. "I have to hear everything this kid knows before anything happens to him."
Lang paused, letting the silence stretch until the tension was nearly unbearable, before adding in a calm, domineering voice: "You know this matter is related to my clan. The Long Clan does not appreciate interference when seeking the truth."
Ganin glared at Lang's handsome, composed features, his teeth gritted so hard they audibly creaked. Finally, he retreated. Lang had just delivered a veiled warning: Don't mess with my witness.
Ganin was brave when facing a porter like William, but against a high-tier disciple from the Long Clan, he knew his limits. He was exactly the kind of coward William detested—a sly master who used underhanded methods because he lacked the spine for a direct confrontation.
A true spirit master should lean into trouble, facing challenges head-on to temper their soul, not evade them like a rat in the walls. William inwardly snorted as he watched the dark, hateful expression on Ganin's face as the bully eventually turned and walked away.
You called this upon yourself, Ganin. Don't blame me for being honest, William thought.
"Humph! As if I didn't know about his toxic tongue speaking behind our backs," Lang muttered, his true feelings surfacing the moment Ganin was out of earshot.
He turned back to William, his expression a complex mixture of lingering anger toward Ganin and a natural disdain for a porter. To someone like Lang, William was a non-entity, a tool of the Academy.
"Forget about him," Lang said, his face softening slightly into a gentler mask. When he saw the wary, guarded look on William's face, he added, "Berry is famous for her kind heart. She doesn't like to see anyone mistreated. It seems Ganin holds a grudge against you because of her intervention."
"Thanks for the young master's understanding," William said, cupping his hands in the traditional gesture of gratitude between spirit masters.
He played the role of the humble, thankful servant to perfection. "But regarding the young miss... she left after helping me. She told me to return to the Academy while she went deeper into the forest to clear her head."
Even though Lang was showing a degree of kindness, William was far from foolish. He would never be touched enough by a few soft words to spill the truth.
Telling Lang that Berry was currently a frozen statue because of a Phoenix incantation he gave her would result in his immediate execution, regardless of Lang's "kindness."
"Oh," Lang said, a clear flash of disappointment crossing his face before he regained his composure. "I see. Sorry to have disturbed your work then."
Lang looked at the boy, perhaps realising that a lowly porter wouldn't have been able to follow a genius like Berry into the deeper woods anyway. "If I ever need a porter this week, I'll fetch for you. What's your name again?"
William provided his name, knowing exactly what Lang was doing. This wasn't a genuine offer of employment; it was an empty promise designed to buy his silence.
The Long Clan and the Academy both wanted to control the narrative. If the news spread that the Long heiress was in a mysterious coma, the water would be muddled by political rivals and dark-minded opportunists. Lang was ensuring that the "witness" felt he had a stake in staying quiet.
"Thanks for the young master's generosity, my name is William."
"Alright, see you later."
William only heaved a deep sigh of relief after Lang moved away with his entourage. In fact, his little lie had a small flaw, but luckily, Lang didn't notice anything.
If what he said was true, then he was considered the last person to see Berry before what happened to her.
If Lang had thought deeper about it, or had taken this matter a bit more seriously than he just did, he would have seen through the gaps. He would have had William escorted directly to the clan headquarters for a brutal interrogation under the eyes of the elders.
Luckily for William, his identity as a porter served as the best cover-up he could ask for. Not a single person in this academy, from the disciples to the high masters, would ever suspect a lowly porter of having the capability to do anything to a genius spirit master like Berry.
And so, William navigated the crisis, getting out of the problem without having much trouble—for now.
"I need to hurry and leave the academy as fast as possible," he muttered, his pace quickening as he moved through the corridors. He knew Lang might be a bit careless, but the same couldn't be said for the rest of the Long clan.
If anyone else from the clan's upper echelon heard the story of a porter being the last witness, that flaw in his timeline would be spotted instantly.
William hadn't expected Berry to stay in her meditative state for this long. At this moment, he was intensely glad he hadn't stayed behind with her; he would have been caught red-handed in a situation he couldn't explain.
He wasn't particularly worried about his lie being discovered eventually—once Berry woke up, she would surely stand up for him and clarify that he had helped her. His true worry was getting his lie discovered before she woke up.
The anxious, grieving family members of a Great Clan might do anything, including using soul-searching techniques, to unravel the entire truth if they felt the academy was hiding something.
He was also concerned about Ganin. That sly spirit master seemed to hold his grudges deep in his heart.
This time, William had relied on luck and Lang's disdain for Ganin to survive, but he didn't want to depend on luck for long. If he lingered here for more than a day, Ganin would surely find another excuse to get him into trouble or frame him for a different crime.
He decided to wrap up everything he needed to do in the market within the hour, then leave the academy grounds without taking a single glance behind.
As he reached the market again, he found the place even more bustling than before.
The morning air was filled with the scents of exotic spices, scorched metal, and the chatter of hundreds of people. He headed directly toward the merchant he had dealt with in the morning, pushing through the crowd with focused intent.
"Young master, what brings you back so soon?" the merchant asked, instantly recognising him. However, the man looked in slight disappointment at the empty space behind William; he had clearly hoped the boy was bringing another mountain of loot to sell.
"I want to buy more stuff," William said, entering the stall and sitting in an empty corner without waiting for an invitation. The merchant followed, his interest piqued.
"What do you need?" the merchant asked, a greedy, almost drooling expression appearing on his face. He could smell the crystals in William's bag.
"I want the Homos clay, the scarlet vibrant ore, a hundred light candles, and a strong bow," William narrated his list with clinical precision.
"The Homos clay and the scarlet vibrant ore are all present here in large quantities. But the bow…" the merchant paused, pulling a fake face of struggle and rubbing his chin.
William knew why the man hesitated. This merchant specialised in materials—crystals, cores, and ores—not finished weapons. But a merchant of his tenure must have connections; he would certainly know which blacksmith or weapon dealer sold the best gear in the market.
"Just buy it and add your fees," William said leisurely, leaning back against a crate. "I need a bow with a price not exceeding one thousand crystals. A good one, not just a mere toy," he added, fixing the merchant with a serious, unblinking look.
If he wanted to, William could have searched the weapon stalls himself. But he would waste precious time, and as a porter, he might be overcharged or given faulty equipment. By using this merchant as a proxy, he could stay hidden while leveraging the man's professional knowledge to get a fair price.
"Leave it to me then," the merchant smiled widely, his eyes crinkling. After all, the commission fees would add a healthy chunk of profit to his day. "How many kilos do you want for the other two goods?"
"What's the price per kilo?" William asked, not giving a direct answer. He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping an octave. "And stop playing those little games with me. I hate people wasting my time with inflated prices."
The Homos clay was a fairly common material in this world. It was usually found near large riverbeds and had very few uses in standard alchemy, mostly serving as a stabiliser for low-level potions.
Consequently, its price was fairly low. From William's memories of his past life, he recalled that the price wouldn't exceed ten crystals per kilo.
As for the scarlet vibrant ore, it was found in the widely scattered mountains across the continent. T
his ore was much like the clay—abundant but with few practical uses, limited mostly to ornamental decorations. The ore naturally grew in a diamond shape, possessing a brilliant redness that gave it its "scarlet" name.
Spirit masters and blacksmiths had tried to use it in forging for centuries, but they always met the same disastrous result.
Whenever they tried to smash it, expose it to extreme heat, or channel spirit power into it, the ore violently exploded. Because it couldn't be melted or hammered without detonating, it was deemed useless for weapons or armour. It was sold cheaply as a novelty item for its beautiful colour.
But in William's hands, anything "useless" could become extremely valuable.