How Could the Villainous Young Master Be a Saintess?

“Idiot. d￠i.y-i,k¨a*ns\h~u-.+c′o+m?”

Thinking of Vinny, a barely-there curve tugged at the corner of Aesphyra Galathus’s lips—so slight she probably didn’t even notice it herself.

He even went to ask Vanessa for help on her behalf. He’s always talking like he’s some scoundrel, yet nothing he actually does lines up with “evil.”

The Vinny on this worldline is completely different from that rotten seed from the original trajectory. Sure, both of them deserve a beating, but at the core, they couldn’t be more different.

Annoying as he still is, Aesphyra has completely changed her view of Vinny. Sometimes she even feels like all of that before was just a dream—Vinny included.

In truth, Aesphyra had suspected this possibility long ago—more than once, in fact—but every time the logic failed to hold together and the guess collapsed.

Even if she overthrew her current logic and started doubting that Vinny was pretending to be Vanessa—or that Vanessa was pretending to be Vinny—through the eyes of an old hand like her, it’s obvious that neither Vanessa nor Vinny’s personalities are put-on acts.

So who is imitating whom? Who’s the original, and who’s the mask??

You can’t even start reasoning from that question. From Aesphyra’s long observation, both of them show firmly their own distinct traits. If one personality were fake, time would have revealed hairline cracks.

For a performance so flawless that even she can’t see the seams, the mask would have to be welded straight onto the face.

That’s the crux. By Aesphyra’s read on acting, Vinny and Vanessa are not even in the same league.

Vanessa’s craft is vastly ahead of Vinny’s—enough that Aesphyra would call it prodigious. Vinny’s, by contrast, is miles behind; he wears his real emotions out in the open. At a glance he has that dumb, endearing “missing brainstem” beauty to him. Even if he wanted to hide it, he probably couldn’t.”

They’re simply not on the same tier of acting.

Can one person simultaneously display two completely different personality profiles and two entirely different levels of performance?? Even with Aesphyra’s grasp of the craft, that feels a bit much.

The best acting is infused with genuine feeling. Wouldn’t someone doing that split in two risk a fractured mind??

If that’s the case, then it would mean one person is so unfathomably deep he can split into two roles before her eyes—two different acting styles—and even fool an “award-winning actress” like her.

That kind of terrifying technique? Even Aesphyra can’t guarantee she could pull it off flawlessly.

So the thought rises again—only for Aesphyra to dismiss it again.

The odds are nearly zero.

Besides, any sane person can see those two absolutely aren’t the same person.

A refined lady, gentle as water and impeccably poised, with a presence as otherworldly as an angel—and a rough, careless, loudmouthed boy with no manners at all—are the same person?

If they didn’t both carry the Facilis name, no one sound of mind would lump them together.

Still... there might be a method—not exactly a proper method—that could be tried.

——

After delivering the potion to Aesphyra, Vinny headed home with the remaining bottles of the Two-Wing Kiss’s by-products.

Mirexia had spent no small amount of time and effort taking care of him these days, which meant Student Council work had piled up. She had to rush back and put in overtime to catch up.

At his door, Vinny knocked. “Dale, are you home? I’m back.”

After a quiet beat inside, bare feet pattered across wood—thud-thud-thud—and Shicodale came running. The little elf must not have seen anyone for a while; when he opened the door and saw Vinny standing outside, his eyes lit up, shining and pitiful all at once.

[Virtue +50]

[Current Virtue: 10434]

“Vinny, did you... finally finish everything??”

Hearing that, Vinny felt a twinge of guilt.

The reason he’d told Shicodale before was completely made up—and the poor guy had actually believed it all this time.

That said, he really had been swamped these days. He’d been so busy it scrambled his brain, collapsed, and lay in bed for several days.

“Ah—yeah. Temporarily wrapped up. The Student Council’s been slammed lately. Mirexia told you, right?”

“Mhm. Mirexia did say as much, but she didn’t say exactly what you were busy with.” Shicodale tilted his small head, hair slipping down his shoulder.

“Well, you know—new term starting up and all. The Student Council’s super busy. Busy with all sorts of things,” Vinny explained.

“Oh.” Shicodale nodded, foggily. Maybe he got it. Maybe he didn’t.

“Speaking of which, it’s been ages since I’ve had your cooking. Ugh, I’ve been running all over the place lately. Think I could get a long-missed taste of your handiwork tonight?” He couldn’t explain in detail; no matter—Vinny changed the subject on the spot.

“Eh—eh?? Okay, okay!” Just like that, Shicodale was hooked by the new topic, chiming assent one after another.

If Vinny says he’s missed Shicodale’s cooking, does that mean he’s also been missing Shicodale these days?

Hee-hee.

[Virtue +50]

[Current Virtue: 10484]

Easy to coax as ever.

Seeing the Virtue tick and Shicodale’s reaction, Vinny knew he’d done it again—snagged the other’s attention with ease.

Shicodale really is too simple. Toss a new topic and he latches onto it, the rest forgotten.

Back inside, the dorm was as spotless as he’d left it. Clearly, during the days he’d been gone, Shicodale had been keeping the place carefully maintained—even Vinny’s room was neat and fresh.

And Shicodale knew his bounds. Anything he shouldn’t touch—anything private—he left strictly alone.

Vinny flopped onto the sofa after returning—like some lord with a good wife at home, doing nothing while the “good wife” bustled about. Well, at most, he made sure to leave Shicodale enough living expenses before heading out.

He sprawled shamelessly on the living-room sofa, pinching a green by-product potion between his fingers, giving it a once-over. He sniffed it, shook it, watched the tiny bubbles rise, thoughtful.

So what is this potion supposed to be?

He mulled it over and still felt: since he refined it himself, he ought to follow alchemist custom—when an unknown by-product is produced, the maker, in the spirit of scholarly inquiry, conducts the human trial personally to see what it does.

Granted, people aren’t what they used to be. Plenty of alchemists skip the niceties and pay others to test for them.

Vinny doesn’t have that kind of money, and he doesn’t want anyone else taking the risk for him. So he’ll do it himself.

Strictly speaking, the by-product is also refined from his own blood plus various tonics. Even if it’s harmful, how bad could it be??

He had learned about certain alchemical herbs with multiple concealment properties, but since this formula is one Elusha left behind, it should stand up to scrutiny. Even if some ingredients’ side effects overlap, the Saintess’s blood should purify them.

After thinking it through, Vinny steeled himself, poured out a small portion into a bowl, and knocked it back in one go.

Smack-smack. Huh. A little sweet.

Weird. He didn’t add sugar. Why does it taste a bit sweet??

Time to observe the effect. Vinny sat up straight. Fifteen minutes passed.

Nothing happened. In the mirror, he checked himself—no strange spots on the skin, no little dancers in his vision. Clear-headed. Everything normal.

Looks like the by-product isn’t toxic.

If it isn’t toxic, then... what does it do?

Wait.

He thinks he’s got it. Before, with all the running around and the heavy loss of vital blood, he’d felt bone-tired—like he hadn’t slept for days—and even getting out of bed left him limp.

Now that fatigue was gone. He felt bright, sharp—his mental state, excellent.

Could this by-product be for recovering mental fatigue??

Vinny pondered.

It tracks. The main product treats physical injury, so the by-product would treat mental exhaustion.

Still not certain. What if it’s a poison that only erupts after enough builds up??

Committed to rigorous scholarship, Vinny downed the rest of the portion.

Result: even more energized. So much energy he had nowhere to put it—he felt like storming into the Student Council right now and going three hundred rounds with the document stack.

No obvious side effects.

Looks like it really isn’t toxic. At this dosage, nothing.

“Dinner’s ready, Vinny!”

“Oh—coming!”

Stowing the remaining green “vitality” potions in his pocket, Vinny headed to the table. It had been a while since he’d eaten Shicodale’s cooking. It isn’t exactly gourmet, but it has a warm, homey flavor. It tastes like home.

Unlike that big, empty, cold house back home with no human warmth, returning to the dorm at Carillian Academy calmed the slight drift in his heart.

Maybe, without even noticing, he’d already come to think of this dorm as his home.

After dinner, Vinny took Shicodale out for a walk. It had been a long time since the two of them spent time together.

The next day, Vinny left the house with a blade of grass in his mouth, wandering the Academy without a destination.

Classes start tomorrow. He’d spent these days busy doing “Nut Bandaging Technique” for Aesphyra, so even though he’d been at the Academy, he’d done nothing to get ready.

Ugh, all the fault of that damned white-haired short nut. It’s all her doing—a walking calamity—leeching everyone’s fate equally to bolster her own.

As he grumbled, Vinny somehow drifted into an abandoned park.

...Huh??

He recognized this place. If he remembered right, the last time he relayed messages with the mole inside the Academy, he used the crack beneath that old tree in this park.

Almost no one comes here. He’d made several drops here, so he knew: at night it’s like a haunted spot, empty as can be, a stark contrast to the bustling avenue in the distance.

So, logically, it should be empty now, too.

Only—it wasn’t.

At a glance, under that familiar old tree, sat someone else familiar.

A delicate figure leaned lightly against the trunk, eyes half-lowered, lashes thin as a cicada’s wings drooping like butterflies, beaded with crystalline dew.

She held a book in both hands, open and resting on her smooth, snow-pale thighs. Black hair rippled down, skimming the willow curve of her narrow waist, slipping over sleek, satin-black stockings to spill across the grass.

That flawless, cool black-haired girl, perfect down to the last detail, seemed to have her eyes gently closed in repose. The thick tome open across her lap, the abandoned park, and the desolate old tree—together, the picture was achingly beautiful.

Only—

Vinny blinked, a little surprised.

The black-haired girl leaning on the tree in the abandoned park was clearly Isatia Lanteville. Her being here was, on second thought, perfectly normal. She likes quiet. Seeking out an empty place to read fits her.

But—

What exactly was she doing now? Just resting her eyes??

Normally, Vinny would have thought so, shot her a glance, and walked off like he’d seen nothing. But after what happened at the library, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something about Isatia was off.

It looked like... she’d nodded off again.

Could Her Highness really have no sense of time? Burning through the night bright-eyed over a book, then drowsy all day, napping whenever?

Doesn’t seem like her.

If sleep isn’t the issue, why does he keep catching her dozing with a book in hand?

And why is it always a history volume, no matter where she goes?

From this distance, he couldn’t make out the title, but the thickness alone ruled out light novels. Odds are, it was another scholarly journal on historical research.

That left Vinny uneasy. Was Her Highness really okay, sleeping so carelessly in an abandoned park?

Was it like last time—so exhausted she’d simply blacked out??

Highly possible.

But people with poor sleep usually have faint shadows under their eyes. Why didn’t she?

Should he go check?

After last time, Vinny didn’t think of this princess as some unreasonable menace. And after brushing up against so many heroines of fate, he’s picked up all the cause and effect he’s going to. Adding Isatia probably wouldn’t tip anything.

Fine. He’d go take a look. A girl sleeping in a place like this... not exactly safe.

“Isatia? Isatia?” Vinny walked up and tried calling her name. No response. Isatia stayed quiet, leaning against the trunk, gaze lowered, saying nothing.