Heartbeat thundered in Maxwell’s chest, his every breath growing more uneven.

Here he was, standing in the fields of that serene garden, with the winds of night blowing against his skin. The dark skies were painted with luminous twinklings, illuminating the figure of Maxwell as he held Rita in his embrace, dancing without a care in the world.

Maxwell had a bright smile on his lips, and Rita’s beautiful smile echoed his own. They intertwined in the garden with pristine movements.

And then... they stopped, and Rita remained in his arms.

The man’s blue eyes, warm and tender, bore into the lady’s silver, glistening with curiosity, affection and satisfaction.

Badump–! Badump–!

His heart kept beating, blood rushing through his veins.

He leaned closer to her, burying her in his embrace.

Her arms locked around his waist.

Badump–! Badump–!

Maxwell kept looking into her eyes, searching for a trace of consent.

Rita chuckled, and then, she whispered:

’Maxwell.’

His eyes widened.

She leaned forward, reaching for a kiss.

But she stopped, and whispered again:

’Maxwell.’

’Maxwell.’

"Maxwell!"

"Mercenary Maxwell!"

Blue eyes jolted open immediately, meeting the sight of the room’s ceiling.

Maxwell let out a low groan, dragging his fingers to massage his forehead as he sat up, feeling the warmth of the morning sun rays that filtered through an open window.

Hesitantly, he touched his lips, caressing them. And then he stopped, letting out a sigh as he scratched his head, ruffling his hair.

’What the hell was that dream?’ He thought, pulling himself up from the bed.

"Is it because I saw Rita yester–"

"Mercenary Maxwell!"

Maxwell shuddered subtly, instinctively raising the bedsheet to hide his body, which, apart from the underwear he wore, was bare.

The source of that persistent yell was steadily approaching, evidenced by the thunderous footsteps that accompanied it.

Maxwell blinked, a bit dazed.

But as the feminine voice yelled out his name once more, he recognized the source.

"Olive?" He blinked. "Wait, what does sh–" Blue eyes found the wardrobe at the corner of the room, and Maxwell paced toward it. "What does she want?"

As the young man quickly rummaged through the wardrobe to find a casual outfit, he thought to himself:

’I wonder if the letters I sent before heading out to inspect the Silvester estate last night have reached Eithan and Vin by now,’ he smiled. ’They should’ve. Those delivery crows are as fast as 8th-circle air mages, after all.’

The blue-haired youth finally chose his outfit from the wardrobe, and as he did so, he quickly put on the casual outfit and stood straight, grinning as he gazed outside the window through which daylight trickled. He had his hands on his waist, a habitual gesture.

’That blond chatterbox should be on his way to Avalon by now,’ he thought. ’I hope Jeriq treats him well.’

He breathed in, chest inflating.

He breathed out.

’Alright!’

Maxwell clapped his palms together, and the sound echoed.

He did this in a bid to wake the jolly water spirit currently asleep in his pocket dimension, and the reverberating clapping sound travelled through Maxwell’s soul-link.

Frilo must have heard it, but the spirit refused to wake up.

Maxwell frowned, gazing intensely at his chest.

’Frilo!’ he yelled through the soul-link.

No reply.

Maxwell gave up, letting out a resigned sigh as he shook his head.

Then, after a few seconds, he chuckled, whispering:

"I guess the whole dancing with Rita thing yesterday must have worn him off."

Last night, Maxwell had stayed true to his words to inspect the Silvester Estate, to discover if the Marquis’ house was really the one hosting the High Ball.

But before he left Forina Inn for the estate, Maxwell wrote two letters. One for Eithan and the other for Vin. To notify them of his arrival in Rindell, and to further reinforce the whole goodbye spirit.

Luckily for Maxwell, a delivery office was just at the corner of the inn, and their delivery crows — the fastest in the business — were all active, albeit more expensive. But Maxwell was rich. He could afford to throw away a couple of silver coins to deliver his letter.

Just like that, his letters were taken by the crow, and hopefully, they would reach his targets soon... if he got the address right. He sure hoped he did.

After the whole letter delivery shenanigans, the blue-haired youth quickly made his way to the Silvester Estate.

It was a quick inspection, really. In a noble house as large as theirs, there would have been obvious signs of preparation when planning a party as grand as the high ball. And sure enough, he found the whole mansion being decorated, maids and servants going to and fro, working nonstop as it was only a day to the ball.

Seeing the whole frantic preparation confirmed the entire situation for Maxwell. Olive’s friend, the one whom she had spoken so greatly about, the one whom she had been unable to visit for years. That friend was Rita.

And the ball was being held by the family Rita had hated all her life.

Right then and there, hidden between two fanciful buildings in their estate, Maxwell wrestled with grim thoughts that urged him to just destroy the entire household, ruin the ball, and elope with Rita.

And he almost gave in. But the only problem was...

He wasn’t sure Margarita would like that.

In fact, he was sure the lady wouldn’t like that at all.

Sure, she hated the household; that one was certain, but who in their right mind would choose to elope with someone who destroyed their entire family?

She’d be wary of him. That wasn’t what Maxwell wanted. And so, he quelled those thoughts.

Maybe he would revisit the thoughts when he eventually got Rita’s trust...

While he calmly contemplated destroying an entire noble house, Frilo, wearing that same mischievous grin that Maxwell didn’t quite like, floated away from the hiding water mage, trailing behind a trace of air mana that felt pure. So, so pure that a mage with less expertise might have mistaken it for a highly distilled form of pure mana.