Another World Witch Training Manual

098. Refusal

Simondo's increased strength stirred a faint ripple in Sinlai's heart, but she showed no emotion on her face.

He stood quietly inside the door, neither in a hurry to speak nor deliberately striking a pose. He simply stood there naturally, like a tree that was used to standing in the wind and snow.

Simondo raised his head, his gaze falling on Sinlai, and looked her up and down.

That look wasn't exactly disrespectful; after all, the person standing in front of him was a prince, and even the least favored prince couldn't be too overtly polite.

But it certainly wasn't respectful.

It's something more subtle, like picking up a piece of goods at the market, casually weighing its weight, quality, and value, and then discovering, oh, it's not worth much.

"Your Highness, we meet again." Simondo put down his wine glass, stood up, and gave a slight bow.

The bow was just right; any more would have seemed obsequious, any less would have seemed rude. It was precisely this perfect angle that gave off a perfunctory vibe.

It's like a dish where all the seasonings are added, but the cooking time is wrong, so it just doesn't taste right.

"What brings you to a place like this?" He straightened up, a faint smile playing on his lips. "The dungeon is cold and damp, not a place for someone of your status. If you catch a cold, we subordinates can't afford to take responsibility."

Xin Lai's expression remained unchanged, as if he hadn't noticed the subtle sarcasm in those words, or as if the sarcasm wasn't worth his attention.

"I want to see the Marquis Tansteen."

Simondo's smile froze for a moment.

It happened so fast it was almost negligible; if Sinlai hadn't been carefully observing every change in his expression, she might have missed it.

In that instant, a hint of surprise, a hint of alertness, and something else indescribable flashed across Simondo's eyes, like the brief discomfort a hunter feels when he discovers his prey is not running in the expected direction.

He then resumed his indifferent expression, the corners of his mouth curving back into a smile, even more pronounced than before.

"Your Highness, Marquis Tanstin is a serious criminal and is currently being interrogated." He sat back down in his chair, one hand casually resting on the edge of the table, his fingertips tapping the surface lightly. "His Highness Simien has ordered that no one is allowed to visit him."

He paused for a moment. The pause was perfectly timed, neither too long nor too short, just enough for Xinlai to feel the weight of his words, yet not enough for her to interrupt.

"Including... the prince."

He pronounced the last two words very lightly, almost as if he were talking about something trivial. But it was precisely this lightness that made it sound particularly jarring.

Sin Lai was not angry.

He merely tilted his head slightly, looking at Simondo with an almost calm gaze, then picked up where he left off, repeating in a neutral tone: "Including the prince?"

Simondo did not deny it.

He simply smiled. That smile carried a confident and fearless air, the kind of smile only someone with real power and powerful backing could wear.

His gaze met Xinlai's without flinching or provocation, simply meeting her eyes steadily, as if to say: This is what I mean, what can you do about it?

"Your Highness, I was just following orders." He shrugged, feigning helplessness, but the helplessness was so fake that even he probably didn't believe it.

"If you're not satisfied, you can go find Prince Simien, or..." He deliberately dragged out the last syllable, his gaze slightly raised, as if admiring some amusing scene.

"Find His Majesty the King. If either of them speaks, I will let them pass immediately, without a second thought."

The four words were spoken with absolute certainty, but everyone could tell that it was just a more sophisticated way of rejecting someone.

Go find Simeon? Go find the King?

Simondo presenting these two paths to Sinlai is no different than presenting a mountain to an ant.

Xinlai stared at him for a few seconds.

In those few seconds, the room was so quiet that you could hear the faint hissing sound of the oil lamp wick burning, and the faint dragging sound of iron chains coming from the depths of the dungeon in the distance.

Simondo's smile didn't fade, but a hint of amusement crept into his eyes. He was waiting to see what expression the third prince would show: anger? Humiliation? Or the awkwardness of being powerless yet stubbornly holding on?

Then Sin Lai smiled.

The smile was faint, so faint that it was almost just a slight curve; the corners of the mouth turned up slightly, but the corners of the eyes did not follow suit.

It wasn't a happy laugh, an angry laugh, or a helpless laugh. It was a laugh closer to "understanding," like finally confirming something, getting an answer, and then feeling that everything had become simple.

He didn't say anything.

There was no argument, no threats, no intimidation based on his princely status, and no attempt to persuade Simondo in any way.

He turned and left.

The sound of boots clicking on the stone pavement echoed through the narrow passageway, each step crisp and steady.

The rhythm was neither too fast nor too slow, without a trace of panic or hesitation, like a well-trained army marching, or like a heart beating steadily.

The sound traveled a long way through the passageway before gradually fading away.

Simone watched his figure disappear beyond the iron gate, and the corners of his mouth curved upwards again.

He picked up his glass and took another sip, letting the liquid roll around in his mouth before swallowing. In the firelight, it gleamed with a dark red luster, like liquid agate.

What kind of trouble can a useless prince who has been neglected by the king for more than 20 years cause?

He put down his glass, his fingers tracing the rim, and thought of things from many years ago. Back then, he wasn't the head of the dungeon; he was just a lowly officer doing odd jobs in the castle.

The third prince, named Xinlai, was still a teenager. He was taciturn and always walked with his head down, like a kitten that could be blown away by the wind at any moment.

He remembered every single loss and humiliation he suffered in the castle.

If he doesn't settle these scores with Sinlai now, he'll be ashamed of himself.

As for the Marquis of Tansting…

Ha, keep it locked up.

He picked up the document again, his gaze fixed on the paper, but the smile on his lips never faded. The day of execution was not far off.

Just how much of a stir could Sinlai possibly make? This piqued Simon's curiosity.

As he pondered this, he wrote down all the details of Xin Lai's visit in a letter. A falcon flew to the window, tied the letter to its leg, gently patted its head, and the falcon let out a long cry before flying into the sky.