My Infinite System.

Althea didn’t sleep.

She sat in the chair until her back ached, staring at the same spot on the floor like it might suddenly explain everything. Lucian didn’t pressure her. He didn’t hover. He just leaned against the wall for a while, then sat on the edge of the bed like he’d done this kind of waiting a thousand times.

When the first light of morning hit the window, Althea finally stood.

”I have to send word,” she said, voice rough. ”I have people. I can’t vanish without—”

”You can,” Lucian said. ”But I get it.”

She shot him a look. ”Don’t start.”

”I’m not.” He rolled his shoulders like he was loosening old joints. ”You’re an Earl. You don’t disappear and hope the city figures it out.”

Althea hesitated. ”You’re coming with me.”

Lucian nodded. ”Obviously.”

She narrowed her eyes. ”And no... walking.”

Lucian’s mouth twitched. ”Fine. We walk.”

They left together, and for Althea it was a strange kind of torture. People bowed to her, greeted her, asked about yesterday’s commotion in the square. Every normal smile felt fake now. Every harmless question felt like a hand reaching for a wound.

She gave short answers. She smiled when she had to. She moved like a blade sliding through cloth.

Lucian walked beside her with his hands in his pockets, looking like he belonged nowhere and everywhere at once.

At the keep, she gave orders fast. She pulled her most trusted clerk aside and spoke in a low voice that left no room for questions.

”Emergency schedule,” she said. ”All merchant disputes go to the deputy. All noble petitions get delayed. Send a sealed message to the provincial council. Tell them I’m traveling for an imperial matter tied to the Starlight Trial. No details. If anyone asks, you don’t know more.”

The clerk swallowed. ”My lady, is—”

”Do it,” Althea said.

The clerk bowed and hurried off.

Althea turned and found Lucian watching her.

”What,” she said.

”You’re good at that,” he said. ”Cutting things clean. No panic.”

Althea didn’t like the praise. It felt too close to comfort.

”People die when leaders panic,” she said.

Lucian nodded once. ”Yeah. I learned that one too.”

She paused. ”You said we go to the Trial.”

”We do,” Lucian said.

”And you said you needed... an identity.”

Lucian’s eyes flickered, like he remembered something he’d set aside. ”Right.”

Althea frowned. ”What are you planning.”

”Nothing dramatic,” Lucian said. ”I just don’t want every sect elder staring at me like I’m a walking treasure chest.”

Althea gave him a dry look. ”You are.”

Lucian shrugged. ”Exactly.”

They returned to the Laughing Drake before midday. Althea stepped into the main room and immediately felt it.

Eyes.

Whispers that stopped when she looked their way. The usual gossip of an inn wasn’t like this. This was a room full of people who watched for weakness. People who smelled opportunity.

Some bowed awkwardly when they noticed her. Some pretended not to. Some looked confused, like an Earl shouldn’t be walking into an inn without a procession.

Althea ignored them all.

Lucian did too.

He headed straight for the counter, like yesterday never happened.

The innkeeper straightened fast, almost tripping over his own feet.

”My lady— and... sir.”

Lucian gave a small nod. ”We need breakfast. And I need to speak with someone from the Verdant Willow Sect.”

The innkeeper’s eyes widened. ”They’re here.”

”Good,” Lucian said.

Althea glanced sideways at him. ”You’re meeting sect people now.”

Lucian looked back at her. ”Yes.”

”Why.”

”Because I’m going to the Trial,” Lucian said. ”And it’s better to travel with people who already have an excuse to be there.”

Althea’s mouth tightened. ”So you’re using them.”

Lucian’s tone stayed even. ”I’m blending in.”

Althea didn’t like how reasonable it sounded.

They sat at a corner table, and food arrived fast, like the inn was scared to keep them waiting. Althea barely touched it.

Lucian ate like a normal person. Slow. Simple. Like he was trying to remember what hunger felt like.

Althea watched him while pretending not to.

”You’re too calm,” she said quietly.

Lucian swallowed. ”You want me shaking.”

”No.” Althea’s gaze hardened. ”I want you honest.”

Lucian nodded, like he accepted the challenge. ”I’m calm because panic never helped me. That’s it.”

Althea studied him, then looked away.

A few minutes later, footsteps stopped near their table.

A woman in green and white robes bowed slightly, controlled and polite, but her eyes were sharp.

”Elara,” she said.

Althea’s eyes narrowed. She remembered her from the square. And from yesterday’s stare that felt too curious.

Elara’s gaze flicked to Althea and her brows lifted.

”My lady,” Elara said carefully. ”I didn’t realize you were traveling with... him.”

Althea didn’t answer.

Lucian did.

”She’s coming with me,” he said.

Elara blinked. ”To the Trial?”

”Yes,” Lucian said.

Elara hesitated, then looked at him like she was weighing whether this was dangerous to say out loud.

”Learned sir,” she said finally, voice smooth, ”my sect leader wishes to speak with you as discussed. If you are still open to the offer.”

Lucian nodded. ”I am.”

Elara’s expression eased slightly, like relief. ”Then please—”

She paused, glanced at Althea again, then turned back to Lucian and said the name clearly, politely, like it was normal.

”—please follow me, Lysander.”

Althea didn’t move.

But her whole face changed.

It wasn’t shock like yesterday. It was sharper. Cleaner. Like a blade sliding out of a sheath.

”Lysander,” Althea repeated, voice flat.

Lucian’s expression didn’t shift. Not even a twitch.

Elara stiffened, realizing she’d stepped on something she couldn’t see.

Althea looked at Lucian. ”So you’re a wandering scholar now.”

Lucian took a sip of water. ”To them, yes.”

Althea’s eyes narrowed. ”To me, you’re my ’uncle.’”

Lucian nodded once. ”Also yes.”

Althea’s jaw tightened. ”Which one is the lie.”

”Neither,” Lucian said.

Althea leaned forward slightly, voice low. ”You disappeared in an alley yesterday. You erased an assassin. You claim my mother is some kind of... ancient being. And now a sect disciple calls you Lysander like you’ve been using that name for years.”

Elara stepped back half a step, instinctively. She was picking up the heat without understanding it.

Lucian set the cup down and met Althea’s eyes.

”I told you I needed an identity,” he said.

Althea’s lips pressed hard. ”You didn’t tell me you already built one.”

Lucian’s tone stayed calm. ”I didn’t think you’d care about the name.”

Althea’s eyes flashed. ”I care because it means you can lie with a straight face.”

Lucian didn’t get defensive. That was what made it worse.

”You’re right,” he said simply.

That threw Althea off for half a second.

Elara cleared her throat softly, trying to salvage the moment.

”My lady,” she said carefully, ”the sect leader is waiting. It’s a private meeting. If you wish to come, you can, but—”

”I’m coming,” Althea said instantly.

Elara blinked. ”Yes, my lady.”

Lucian stood. He didn’t offer Althea his hand this time. He knew better now.

They followed Elara up to a larger room. Althea kept her eyes forward, but her mind was biting down on one thought.

He can change his face to the world.

He can change his name.

So what else can he change?

Elara knocked once and entered first. A woman sat inside, older than Elara, calm in a way that made the room feel smaller. Not because she was loud. Because she was confident.

Her robe was the same green and white, but cleaner, sharper, with a silver branch pattern stitched along the sleeves.

She looked up.

”Scholar Lysander,” she said, voice smooth. ”You made it.”

Lucian gave a polite nod. ”You asked.”

The woman’s gaze slid to Althea and paused. Just a fraction too long.

”Earl,” she said, surprised but composed. ”This is unexpected.”

Althea didn’t bow. She didn’t smile.

”I go where I need to,” Althea said.

The sect leader’s eyes flicked back to Lucian, sharp now.

”I see,” she said. ”Then we will be direct.”

She gestured to the seats.

Lucian sat.

Althea stayed standing for a moment, then sat beside him, posture stiff.

The sect leader folded her hands.

”My sect is joining the Starlight Trial escort group,” she said. ”We are not participants. We are observers and collectors. The Empire wants data. The Guild wants profit. Sects want legacy.”

She looked at Lucian.

”And we want you,” she said. ”Because you have the kind of eyes that recognize old things.”

Lucian’s expression stayed neutral. ”What exactly do you want from me.”

The sect leader didn’t waste time.

”A map,” she said. ”Not of land. Of meaning. The Trial zone has ruins. Symbols. Seals. Old carvings that don’t match the normal script of this era. Some say they are tied to the Sleeping Progenitors.”

At the word, Althea’s fingers tightened slightly on her lap.

Lucian didn’t react.

The sect leader continued.

”We want you to tell us what is real and what is fake,” she said. ”We want you to identify traps tied to ancient rules. And if we find something... we want you to tell us what it is before someone stupid touches it.”

Althea’s eyes narrowed. ”So you’re hiring him as a shield.”

The sect leader looked at Althea calmly.

”As a guide,” she corrected. ”But yes. People die when they misunderstand relics.”

Lucian nodded once. ”Payment.”

The sect leader smiled faintly, like she expected it.

”Resources,” she said. ”Spirit stones, pills, safe passage, protection by sect disciples. And information.”

Lucian’s eyes sharpened slightly. ”Information about what.”

The sect leader’s smile didn’t move, but her eyes did.

”About the key,” she said. ”About the rumor. About who is hunting it. About who has already killed for it.”

Althea felt her stomach twist.

Lucian glanced at her, then back to the sect leader.

”Deal,” Lucian said.

Althea’s head snapped toward him. ”Just like that.”

Lucian answered without looking at her. ”We need to be there.”

The sect leader’s gaze drifted to Althea again.

”Earl,” she said politely, ”are you attending the Trial as an imperial representative?”

Althea’s lips tightened. She could feel the game in the question. The sect leader was probing for leverage.

”I’m attending as myself,” Althea said coldly.

The sect leader nodded once, accepting the non-answer.

”Then we leave at dusk,” she said. ”We travel with the caravan to the northern gate, then take the ridge road.”

She stood.

”And Scholar Lysander,” she added, voice softer, ”one more thing.”

Lucian looked up.

The sect leader’s eyes sharpened.

”Last night,” she said, ”a messenger died on the docks. No wounds. Just... ash.”

Althea’s breath caught.

Lucian’s face didn’t change.

The sect leader continued anyway.

”And this morning,” she said, ”two men from the Free-Lance Guild vanished while asking questions about you. Not about the Earl. About you.”

Althea’s gaze cut to Lucian.

Lucian finally frowned.

The sect leader’s voice stayed calm.

”So I hope,” she said, ”that whatever follows you... you can keep it from walking into my sect and turning my disciples into dust.”

Lucian held her gaze.

”I’ll try,” he said.

The sect leader gave a small nod.

”Good,” she said. ”Because if the rumors are true, the Trial isn’t just a contest this year.”

She paused, then said it plainly.

”It’s a trap.”

Althea’s eyes narrowed. ”A trap for who.”

The sect leader looked at Lucian.

”We don’t know yet,” she said.