After Luke and the others left the royal palace, they got into a carriage and headed straight for the Research Institute.
The carriage rolled along for a while, and about thirty minutes later, it slowly came to a stop.
Luke was the first to step down. In front of him was the Institute's base—an expansive complex with a distinct style, carrying a strong, almost industrial flavor.
Guards stood watch at the main gate as well. When they saw Luke, they immediately offered a respectful salute.
One of them asked, "Your Highness, what brings you here?"
Luke looked at him and said, "Take me to see the director."
The guard turned at once. "This way, please."
After following the guard into the main hall, Luke spotted a statue in the center—one that looked strangely familiar.
After a closer look, he remembered seeing the same kind of statue at House Menck before. The figure was almost certainly Durand.
Only this Durand looked older here, his gaze wiser, a book held open in his hands, his presence refined and scholarly.
Luke withdrew his gaze and looked around. The hall was busy with people coming and going. Aside from patrolling guards, nearly everyone else appeared to be Institute scholars.
"This way."
The guard turned to the right.
The Institute was large, divided into several sections. Along the way, they passed many people hurrying about, all of them looking busy.
Navis and the other two were openly curious, taking in the Institute's interior from start to finish. Even though they were descendants of House Menck, they normally didn't have the status to enter a place like the Research Institute.
Those who could enter were either soldiers tasked with security, people of exceptionally high standing like Luke—
—or those who earned their way in with real ability.
Not to mention Navis… Maylee and Korsen definitely didn't qualify.
After a guided walk, they finally arrived at the door to the director's office.
The guard raised a hand and knocked. "Director, His Highness the prince has arrived."
As soon as he finished speaking, the door opened. A middle-aged man glanced over and said, "Your Highness, please come in. The rest of you may wait outside."
As he spoke, he stepped aside.
Luke went in. Navis and the other two hadn't intended to follow anyway, so they stayed outside.
"Your Highness, this way."
Once inside, there were several rooms beyond. The man who had opened the door led Luke to the left.
He pushed open a door. Inside, someone was bent over a workbench with tools in hand, studying something carefully. He wore a monocle and a loose robe, looking to be around forty.
This was the director of the Research Institute.
On the way here, Luke had learned from the Menck siblings that the current director was also from House Menck.
His name was Wenward Durand Menck—third in the family, no children. Only around forty, yet already director of the Research Institute, and widely regarded as exceptionally capable.
He was also the uncle of Navis and the other two.
And when Luke looked down at what Wenward was working on, he saw it immediately—
The speaking-tube assembly and its internal components.
At that moment, the man who had opened the door quietly withdrew.
"I have to say, the design of this voice-transmission device is remarkably ingenious," Wenward said, admiration plain on his face. He set his tools down, looked up at Luke, and offered a formal bow. "It's an honor to meet you for the first time, Your Highness."
Luke returned the greeting with the courtesy due a younger man. "Good afternoon, Director."
"Just now, the Marshal had someone inform me of the purpose of your visit," Wenward said calmly. "Lending people is no issue. But before that, I have a few questions I'd like to ask you."
Even as an elder, his attitude remained humble.
And as he spoke, his eyes shone with the unmistakable eagerness of someone who loved to learn.
Luke asked, "What questions?"
"Like this." Wenward reached out and picked up the microphone from the speaking tube. "I originally wanted to ask Navis, but after thinking it over, I decided it would be better to ask you directly. Can you tell me—what exactly is sound?"
As the director of the Research Institute, he had naturally learned about the speaking tubes the moment they appeared.
And when he heard that it had been developed by a younger member of the family, he had been stunned.
Wenward spent nearly all his time researching and inventing, rarely caring about family matters. After hearing the news, his first instinct had been to find Navis and get a clear explanation.
But then he heard that the one who inspired Navis… was the kingdom's second prince.
So he forced himself to hold back his curiosity. He decided that before the prince came to see him, he would study the device on his own for a while and see if he could uncover the nature of "sound."
The result was obvious.
Aside from a set of notes obtained through the Marshal, he had gained no new breakthrough.
Faced with the question, Luke thought briefly and answered, "Sound is also a form of energy."
Wenward's eyes were full of curiosity. "Why do you say that?"
"Let's use the speaking tube as an example."
Luke walked a couple of steps to the small workbench, picked up a microphone, and said, "For instance, if two objects have the same frequency, then when you strike one of them, the other will vibrate and produce sound as well. That phenomenon is called resonance. And the mechanism inside the tubes uses resonance to transmit sound over long distances."
"Resonance?"
Wenward fell into thought immediately, trying to digest Luke's explanation.
A few seconds later, he looked up. "So you used resonance so that, as the sound travels, it drives another object to vibrate—again and again… which means sound is a form of energy."
It sounded like he was speaking to himself, as though understanding was clicking into place.
There were many kinds of energy in nature—light, water, mechanical force, electricity—all of them capable of driving matter.
People used these forms of energy to accomplish countless things.
But he had never considered that sound could be energy as well.
So that was it. Now it all made sense.
"If that's true… then sound must be usable in other ways, too."
Wenward paced, muttering as if enlightened. Then a thought struck him. "Sound is energy… so could that energy be used as a weapon?"
Hearing that, Luke couldn't help feeling a little impressed.
No matter where you went, truly brilliant people existed.
Wenward had reportedly become director at thirty-five. For someone that young to sit in this position, he clearly wasn't just coasting on a title.
Luke had only said a few sentences, and Wenward had already grasped the point and was beginning to extrapolate other uses for sound.
Watching Wenward think, Luke considered it and decided to add more, proactively explaining:
"You can imagine sound as a pressure wave. When you play an instrument, slap a door, or knock on a table, the vibration causes the medium—air molecules—to vibrate rhythmically. That creates alternating regions of compression and rarefaction in the surrounding air, forming longitudinal waves. That's how a sound wave is produced."
Wenward's eyes lit up. "So if that pressure wave is strengthened, then the energy the sound wave can produce becomes greater."
And if the sound wave's energy became great enough, it could naturally become an offensive weapon.
With that realization, he looked at Luke with sudden solemnity, the way a student looks at a teacher, and said earnestly, "I've learned a great deal."
"You're too kind." Luke smiled. "Anything else you're unclear about?"
So Wenward continued, "Then how do you amplify a sound wave?"
After thinking, Luke walked to the chalkboard on the right side of the room, picked up a piece of chalk, and began writing as he spoke.
"The number of times an object vibrates in one second is called frequency. The unit we use is called hertz…"
It wasn't hard to see where Wenward's thoughts were going: he wanted to develop a sonic weapon.
In truth, with Demacia's current capabilities, developing a sonic weapon would be like trying to climb to the moon with a ladder—so difficult it would almost be easier to "find" an atomic bomb lying around.
But Luke didn't consider it a waste of time.
He didn't mind sharing what he knew with Demacia.
Especially with people like Wenward and Navis—people obsessively devoted to science. People like that often brought enormous change to an era in a very short time.
Even if the goal was far away, at least they now knew the direction.
Time passed, minute by minute.
At the same time, outside the director's office—
"Why are you here?"
A curly-haired man stepped forward, frowning as he looked at Navis and the other two.
The three of them froze for a moment, then lowered their heads together and greeted him. "Jared."
Jared said flatly, "This is the Research Institute. Is this a place you should be coming to?"
He was the eldest among the younger generation. In front of him, the three of them instinctively seemed to shrink.
Hearing that, Maylee answered, "We came with His Highness."
"His Highness…"
Jared's expression didn't change. He swept his gaze over the three, and when it landed on Navis, his frown deepened.
"So you still didn't listen to me. I told you it would be best not to associate with someone useless."
The way he looked at Navis was openly displeased.
After returning from a trip, he'd learned that his personal workshop had been taken over.
And the one using it… was Navis.
Then he learned that the order had come from His Highness. Naturally, he couldn't go to Luke demanding an explanation.
He couldn't afford to offend the prince—so his anger, inevitably, fell on Navis.
But these past few days, Navis hadn't even returned to House Menck, which meant Jared's frustration had nowhere to go.
Now that she was right in front of him, he was going to vent.
And on top of that, Maylee and Korsen—who used to follow him everywhere—had been running outside constantly. When he found out they'd been going to see Navis, Jared directly forbade them from having any further contact with her.
But clearly, they hadn't listened.
If this were any other day, Maylee and Korsen would already be trembling. But remembering who had their back now, they found a bit of courage.
Maylee's tone hardened. "Why do we have to listen to you?"
Korsen nodded beside her. "That's right. Navis isn't useless."
The two of them pushed back not only because Luke was their support, but also because after spending these days with Navis, they had seen many of her strengths—and realized just how stupid they had been before.
Navis lifted her head and glanced at them, emotion flickering in her eyes.
Even though she rarely left home, she knew Jared—House Menck's accomplished eldest among the younger generation—was someone none of the juniors dared to challenge. If he said "two," no one dared say "one."
And yet now, the siblings were willing to stand opposite him for her sake.
"How laughable." Jared sneered. "Don't think that standing beside His Highness means your wings have hardened. I honestly can't imagine why he values you. But I should thank him for being willing to take in the three of you burdens."
He spoke with complete indifference.
After giving them one last disdainful look, Jared turned and walked away. He couldn't be bothered wasting time on them.
In his eyes, Navis was nothing but an outsider draining family resources.
As for Maylee and Korsen? Just two fools.
In his view, the three of them would never set foot into the Research Institute on merit in their entire lives.
Navis was used to this kind of humiliation. Maylee and Korsen looked upset, but they couldn't really refute him either.
They were used to it—Jared had always been arrogant and condescending in the family.
Because House Menck ran on ability. The more capable you were, the more weight your words carried.
Not long after, Luke pushed the door open and stepped out.
He immediately noticed something felt off. Navis keeping her head down was normal—but Maylee and Korsen looked unusually downcast.
After thinking it over, he still asked, "What happened?"
Something must have occurred. Before arriving, the siblings had been excited—now they looked completely different.
"Jared came by," Maylee said.
"Jared?"
Luke's impression of him came from what he'd learned last time—he was the one who declared Navis an outsider and led the effort to isolate and bully her.
So what had happened just now… Luke could guess even without them saying more.
Just then, two voices rang out from above.
"All Institute personnel, assemble in the conference hall!"
"All Institute personnel, assemble in the conference hall!"
Luke looked toward the source and saw a loudspeaker mounted in the corner.
Wenward stepped out of the director's office, smiling. "Does it look familiar, Your Highness?"
Luke nodded. He could tell it was derived from the speaking tube.
Even he was a little surprised by the Institute's efficiency.
Clearly, they had repurposed the speaking tube into a broadcast-style loudspeaker that could address everyone in a given area one-way. In a workplace like this, it was extremely convenient.
And of course, it was a valid use.
Last time, when Tianna Crownguard brought Luke to find Navis—and when he entered the palace—the Institute had already gotten a full understanding of the speaking tube's schematics and principles.
Afterward, it had been sent to the Research Institute, and Luke had been told in advance.
But it had only been a few days.
For the Institute to apply it so quickly and find additional uses… that was impressive.
"Uncle Wenward," Navis and the other two greeted, bowing.
"Let's go." Wenward smiled at them. He had no children and didn't pay much attention to family affairs.
But now, in his eyes, these three juniors being able to meet His Highness was exceptionally good fortune.
He was thinking that perhaps he could give them a bit of a lift.
On the way to the conference hall, Luke saw several large loudspeakers installed for sound projection, along with many Institute personnel hurrying to the hall.
By the time they arrived, almost everyone was already there.
"Director!"
As soon as they saw Wenward, the people inside stood and greeted in unison.
"Sit." Wenward waved a hand, then looked at Luke. "Please have a seat for a moment. Before that, I have a few things to say."
Luke took a seat in the front row.
Navis and the other two sat beside him.
Wenward walked onto the stage at the front and addressed the crowd evenly.
"The results of the Research Institute's latest assessment have been released today. I will now call the names—those called, come up."
He didn't waste words. Once he said it, he began immediately.
"Doyle Randolph. Passing score. Awarded Level Four Artisan."
"Cronin Marvin. Passing score. Awarded Level Four Artisan."
"Dennis Beecham. Good score. Awarded Level Five Artisan."
"Dier…"
"…"
Name after name was read. Each person called went up to receive their artisan badge.
Within the Research Institute, artisan ranks were determined by these badges.
From one to ten—the higher the level, the stronger the artisan's ability.
Soon, Wenward reached the last name.
"Jared Durand Menck. Excellent score. Awarded Level Six Artisan."
Jared stood tall, chin lifted, and strode up to the stage as applause thundered.
At the same time, murmured discussion spread through the hall.
"As expected of Master Jared—House Menck's rising star."
"I remember he only reached Level Five last year, and now he's already up another level."
"Almost one level per year. That's terrifying."
"And he's only twenty-six. That makes him the youngest Level Six artisan in the Institute, doesn't it?"
Wearing the Level Six badge, listening to the whispers, Jared's expression turned proud and self-satisfied, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
He soaked in the applause meant for him, vanity filling him up piece by piece.
Then Wenward's voice rang out again:
"Additionally, I am awarding Navis Durand Menck a Level Eight artisan badge."
Jared's smile froze on his face.
At the same time, the entire hall went silent.
Navis… who?
Was she from House Menck?
Why had no one heard of her?
And Navis herself looked completely lost—her small face blank with confusion. Why was her name suddenly being called?
Until Luke, calm as ever, said beside her, "Go on."
Her mind was a mess, but she obeyed Luke automatically. She stood and walked up onto the stage.
When everyone saw Navis step up, shock rippled through the crowd.
Wenward handed her the badge—proof of a Level Eight artisan.
Back in his seat, Jared stared as if his eyes were about to pop out of his skull. His face was full of disbelief.
How did Navis deserve a Level Eight badge?
That was Level Eight. Many people never reached it in their entire lives!
Then, from beside him, other people started asking questions.
"Jared, is Navis your sister?"
"She's from House Menck too? She's so young—I doubt she's even eighteen."
"Even if she is eighteen—Level Eight at eighteen, that's insane."
"That's what it really means to break a record. She's way ahead of you."
Hearing those voices, Jared forced out stiff replies. "I don't know what's going on either."
A Level Six at twenty-six versus a Level Eight at eighteen—the gap was obvious at a glance.
Especially that last comment. It felt like a knife shoved straight into his heart.
He hadn't even had time to enjoy the glory of "record-breaking" before it was snatched away.
And by Navis, of all people.
She must have pulled strings!
Jared's smile vanished. His expression shifted between light and dark, resentment boiling. He refused to accept it.
At that moment, with so many eyes on her, Navis blurted out uncertainly, "I don't want to be an Institute artisan…"
She'd already been thinking about how she would work for His Highness—so why was she suddenly an Institute artisan now?
The moment the crowd heard that, another wave of uproar broke out.
You don't want to be a Level Eight artisan?
Then what do you want to be—director?
Wenward didn't mind at all. He smiled and said, "It's honorary. Come when you want, don't come if you don't want. You can keep the title. Go back to your seat."
"Oh…"
Hearing that, Navis finally relaxed and returned to her seat.
And all the Institute personnel looked at her with pure envy. A Level Eight title, with the freedom to come and go as she pleased?
Even the salary alone would be substantial.
"Uncle!"
A voice rang out.
Everyone looked over to see Jared standing again.
Wenward frowned.
Jared hurried to speak. "Director, I don't think you should casually give a Level Eight badge to a little girl. It isn't fair to many people."
In truth, what he said represented a lot of people's thoughts.
Seeing a young girl get a Level Eight badge left many feeling indignant.
But only Jared dared say it out loud.
Wenward only looked at him coolly. "Are you questioning my decision?"
Jared lowered his head. "I wouldn't dare."
"Then sit."
Wenward looked away and stopped paying him any attention—he didn't even care to explain.
Jared sat back down awkwardly, resentment building the more he thought about it.
Wenward continued, "Recently, the speaking tube has become a major topic in the Institute. What are your thoughts?"
The speaking tube had been the hottest thing at the Institute lately. Almost everyone had taken part in studying it.
Some had even done dedicated research projects on it.
As soon as he asked, discussion flared up across the hall.
"I have to admit, this so-called acoustics really has substance."
"The way sound propagates, how it can be amplified, the concept of a medium… it gave me a lot of inspiration."
"I think the speaking tube can massively impact daily life. It's a phenomenon-level invention."
Jared joined the conversation too, eager to redirect attention away from the earlier embarrassment. He spoke to a few companions beside him.
"The one who developed the speaking tube must be extraordinarily impressive. I only wonder if I might meet them and express my admiration in person."
The others chimed in and agreed.
Then Wenward raised a hand, and the hall fell silent instantly.
"Since you understand the significance of the speaking tube, then I believe it's time you were told who developed it."
As he spoke, Wenward looked toward Navis. A gentle smile appeared. "Come up again."
Navis froze. Being publicly put forward so suddenly—she was completely unprepared. She looked at Luke in a daze.
Luke smiled at her. "Go on."
Navis took a breath, forced her courage up, and walked to the stage again.
When everyone realized it was her, they were stunned.
But then they understood why Wenward had awarded her the Level Eight badge in the first place.
Any lingering resentment vanished on the spot.
Only Jared froze again, staring at Navis on the stage as if he'd been struck by lightning.
The speaking tube… was made by her?
That phenomenon-level invention?
"Jared, that genius is your sister."
"Why didn't you tell us sooner?"
"Don't tell me you didn't know either?"
Those voices hit Jared like a series of heavy blows. His expression twisted like he was constipated, his composure wobbling.
And then his composure shattered completely.
Wenward pulled out a conceptual blueprint and posted it on the chalkboard behind him.
"This is called a printing press. Look it over yourselves."
He put up sheet after sheet. The Institute personnel stared, and as the seconds passed, their eyes widened bit by bit.
A printing press—just from the name alone, you could tell how powerful that was.
When they read the concept notes and realized it could print eighty copies of a newspaper-like sheet in a single minute, they were utterly shaken.
The printing press's significance was no less than the speaking tube. Both were phenomenon-level inventions capable of changing daily life.
Their gazes inevitably gathered on Navis.
Wenward said, "That's right. She developed it."
The hall erupted into excited chatter. At this point, not a single voice of doubt remained.
And when Wenward pulled out a third conceptual blueprint—this one for a bicycle—the room practically exploded.
People looked at Navis no longer as a little girl, but as a senior master artisan.
With so many eyes on her, Navis lowered her head, nervous beyond measure.
But she knew that everything she had achieved… was because of Luke.
Wenward glanced at Luke as well—just a quick look before withdrawing his gaze.
He had followed His Highness's intentions and allowed Navis to begin stepping into the spotlight.
And he knew Navis was only seventeen.
At seventeen, she already held achievements most people spent their lives dreaming about.
It was almost impossible to imagine how terrifying her future would be… if she remained by Luke's side.
At this moment, Jared looked completely stunned, dazed beyond words. His hair was even a bit disheveled.
He couldn't help looking toward Maylee and Korsen.
No wonder those two had stopped fawning over him lately and kept hanging around Navis.
They'd found a new patron.
And one with an absurd amount of pull.
Maylee and Korsen deliberately turned their heads to look at him, their eyes full of smug satisfaction.
Jared's face flushed red, then pale, glaring at them with clenched fury.
Damn it—if you two had told me earlier, I would've gone over there and started sucking up too!
Is it still in time to suck up now?
…Probably not.
Jared's mood was pure regret—endless regret.
Navis's brilliance had already surpassed anything he could have imagined. Just these three inventions alone were enough to carve her name into Demacian history.
And he…
He had chosen the exact moment he should have been trying to get on her good side to stride up and humiliate her like an idiot.
In the end, the clown was me.
Jared felt like he could grind his teeth into dust. If he ever ran into Maylee and Korsen back at the family estate, he swore he'd kick each of them once.
"Next, the Research Institute will select fifty people for advanced training. All artisans above Level Four, stand."
Wenward spoke again.
As soon as he finished, everyone Level Four and above rose immediately.
They understood what "advanced training" meant—going over to Navis's side to work for a period of time, possibly even doing manual labor.
But right now, almost no one didn't want to go—including the higher-level artisans.
Because going meant they could ask Navis questions up close, many, many questions. For people who loved craftsmanship and engineering, it was an irresistible temptation.
Even learning a little would benefit them immensely.
The number standing was around sixty or seventy.
"You choose," Wenward said to Navis, handing the decision to her.
Navis looked at Luke. Only after she saw him nod did she turn her gaze forward.
She didn't know whom to pick, but she figured she should start with the highest-level artisans.
So she began selecting by badge level, one by one.
There weren't many Level Eight artisans—only a few—so she chose them all.
There weren't many Level Seven artisans either—only a dozen or so—so she chose all of them too.
The remaining slots were filled mostly from Level Six and Level Five artisans—about fifty in total, with Level Six making up around thirty.
Navis extended her finger and pointed, selecting in order. Whoever she indicated would step out automatically.
Soon, she saw Jared in the lineup.
And now, Jared's gaze toward her was no longer contemptuous. He forced an ingratiating smile.
"Navis… don't forget we're family. I apologize for my ignorance before. Can you forgive me?"
Navis hesitated, then nodded.
As if she'd forgiven him.
Jared's face lit up with a brief, delighted smile—only to see that the finger that was about to point at him suddenly curved away in a little arc, skipping him and landing on the next person.
Jared: "…"
Navis didn't pause, continuing down the line.
In the end, she finished selecting all the Level Six artisans and even moved on to picking Level Five—
And Jared was still left out.
As the only Level Six artisan left behind in the entire hall, Jared could only wear an awkward smile.
Navis didn't look at him again. Forgiveness wasn't happening—maybe in a few years, when she was in a better mood.
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