Tohsaka Sakura's expression, however, remained calm; she didn't beam, only gave a small, polite bow in thanks.
"Mm. You two go play. Big brother is here to see your father today."
After that brief meeting, Rovie had a pretty good read on the two sisters' personalities. He patted their small heads, watched them toddle off to their room, then followed Tohsaka Aoi into the reception parlor.
Tohsaka Tokiomi, head of the Tohsaka house, was already prepared. To show proper courtesy he'd even brewed the tea himself.
When Rovie entered under the wife's escort, Tokiomi smiled, excused Aoi, and said he would speak with Rovie alone.
Aoi had no objection; she bowed and respectfully left the reception room, quietly closing the door behind her.
Click—
As the wooden door shut, the atmosphere inside the room shifted.
If their earlier exchange in the courtyard had been mere small talk, the moment the door closed they were entering something else entirely — the conversation of magi, not of neighbors. Tokiomi had sent his non-magus wife away for precisely that reason.
Rovie understood the unspoken rule as well. Outside was for pleasantries; inside you separated the public mask from the truths necessary to survive the mage world.
He hadn't come on a whim. He had a purpose. Having finished the ritual of greetings, it was time to get down to business — namely, how to bring one of Tokiomi's daughters under his care.
Sitting opposite one another, both men lifted their teacups and exchanged the practiced courtesies.
"Please.""Please."
Tohsaka's reception room.
Tohsaka Tokiomi, in an impeccably tailored red suit, sat on a luxurious sofa. He deftly tapped the porcelain lid of the steaming teacup, scooped two sugar cubes with a silver spoon, took out a tea whisk, and stirred at an even pace until a faint pale froth spread over the surface — an elegant, almost ritualized procedure.
Though Tokiomi's motions were graceful and his appearance dignified, Rovie found the elaborate choreography a little over the top. Was it necessary to perform all that strictly for show? To him it looked more like affectation than substance.
Even in aristocratic Europe, the truly ostentatious types didn't always follow such tedious steps; most would merely stir once and drink. If you're a magus, shouldn't you be studying magecraft instead of perfecting ceremonial tea?
"Master Crowley, please," Tokiomi invited with flawless poise.
Rovie lifted his cup and, drawing from memories of how his teacher drank, mimicked the posture. He tapped the lid, swirled a few times, sipped in small mouthfuls, and continued with polite compliments.
"Really excellent tea," Rovie said with a smile. "Your brewing is superb. I'd say it's on par with the finest teas at London nobility gatherings. I didn't expect the Tohsaka household to have such refined tea skills."
"Is that so? It's nothing special — as long as you enjoy it, Master Crowley," Tokiomi replied with a gentle smile. "Looks like my hand hasn't forgotten the craft."
In truth, Rovie couldn't tell the difference between Tokiomi's brew and instant tea. He simply wasn't one to fuss over such matters.
"Master Tohsaka, again — happy New Year. Sorry to trouble you with an unannounced visit."
"Not at all. It's my honor to receive a Clock Tower house on New Year's," Tokiomi answered, waving away the apology. "London customs and ours differ — slight clashes in scheduling are understandable."
Yet his face betrayed a curious edge. "But for the head of the Crowley house to come in person — it mustn't be mere social call. Is there something important?"
The question was direct; Tokiomi's brow tightened with genuine puzzlement. He and the Clock Tower households were more acquaintances than close friends due to geography. Seeing Rovie personally visit had piqued his interest.
Rovie didn't hesitate. He laid his cards out candidly.
"Yes. There is an important matter involving your daughter. I couldn't contact you beforehand — I had no way to send messages across continents from Europe — so I came in person. I hope I haven't caused offense."
At Rovie's words the room's mood shifted; the genial air dissolved into something taut.
Tokiomi's brow drew together. He answered calmly but with a controlled sterility: "Concerning my daughter? Please explain, Master Crowley."
His hand — originally poised to lift the teacup — had discreetly clenched the jewel-topped cane hidden at his side. A dangerous tension began coiling in the air: should Rovie say something detrimental, the elder Tohsaka might act immediately and detain him by force of the household's magic.
Rovie had anticipated this. He waved a hand and smiled as if unaware of the tightening atmosphere.
"Please rest assured, Master Tohsaka. On behalf of the Crowley line I swear my purpose carries no harm toward your daughters, nor to the Tohsaka household's interests. I come with sincerity and as a fellow seeker of the Root."
Tokiomi eased slightly, but suspicion remained.
"And by that you mean—?"
Rovie continued earnestly. "I am not one of the Clock Tower's old relics, nor a sanctioned contractor for any Sealing Agent. I seek the Root as you do."
After a moment of reflection, Tokiomi nodded. The curl of tension at his brows softened. Though not entirely convinced, the worst of the immediate hostility had abated.
Seizing the opening, Rovie leaned in, sincere and fervent.
"As magi who chase the Root, we share the ultimate aim — to reach the Source. You know as well as I that this is our highest calling."
"Of course I know." Tokiomi answered with grave solemnity, his tone burning with zeal.
"To reach the Root — that is the life's purpose of a magus. The Tohsaka house pursues it with all its being." He spoke with the conviction of one who had built his life around that creed.
Rovie's heart leapt — things were going better than he'd dared hope. Tokiomi's own words were the perfect bridge for what he needed to say next. He would present himself as a comrade on the same path and thus lower the father's defenses.
"You are indeed a man of the Path, Master Tohsaka!" Rovie exulted, feigning joy.
"Indeed — reaching the Root remains my and the Tohsaka house's goal."
Although still wary, the elder's suspicion had ebbed. He asked the pressing question: "How does this concern my daughter?"
"It does — and it matters greatly," Rovie said gravely. "I've heard that both your daughters possess extraordinary gifts. Now that I've seen them, the rumors were not exaggerated. Each of them is an artefact of the magecraft world."
Tokiomi's whole body shuddered inwardly. Rovie's words were so precise and right on the mark that it felt like the man had been read through and through.
He'd kept his daughters' natures carefully guarded. To have them uncovered was a chilling sensation. Who could have investigated the Tohsaka house so thoroughly right under his nose?
As dread crept in, he pledged to launch a full-scale investigation later — but first he demanded clarity from the guest.
Rovie, meanwhile, merely smiled. After all, his intel source had a familiar name: Nasu Kinoko.
"So…you mean you want to adopt?" Tokiomi finally asked, his face a mixture of confusion and calculation. By now he had taken a good guess at Rovie's intent.
"Precisely," Rovie said. He nodded decisively. "I've come to request to adopt one of your two daughters. In the future she would inherit the Crowley family's magic imprint and continue pursuing the Path to the Root on my behalf. I ask for your blessing."
Rovie's tone was earnest; he now laid his intention bare.
Not theft. Not abduction. A legal — if unusual — adoption.
"Your daughter, I will raise." He declared.
Chapter 4 — Forced Magical Solicitation
I will pluck the brightest gem myself—
If one judged strictly by the standards of magus society, Tokiomi's two daughters were treasures of inestimable value — rarer than legendary Mystic Eyes.
The elder, Tohsaka Rin, bore a miracle-like composite of the five elemental attributes combined in a single body. Her magecraft circuits and talent were on an elite level; her future was bound to be eminent.
Her younger sister, Tohsaka Sakura, was even more astonishing. She possessed the ultra-rare Imaginary Number attribute. Simply by their rarity and the aura of the unknown, Sakura's aptitude might surpass Rin's.
These two gifted traits would attract attention in any era or land; they were the sort of anomalies that would change destinies.
Tokiomi understood this perfectly and was proud — yet beneath the joy lay a gnawing sorrow.
If he'd had only one daughter, he could have committed entirely to her future without reservations. But with two children each of exceptional, dangerous aptitude, the father's heart was torn.
Extreme magical traits attract other anomalies. Even as children, both girls' futures would be anything but peaceful. No matter how he wanted to shield one and grant her a quiet life, such a wish was almost impossible.
Tokiomi had carried this burden since their births.
Rovie, aware of Tokiomi's predicament, had come at precisely the right moment and spoke plainly.
"Master Tohsaka, as one who walks the path of magecraft, you know the rules of the mystic world," Rovie tapped the table with a fingertip and looked into the elder's eyes. "Mysteries attract mysteries. Anomalies beget anomalies. Your daughters' qualities are not the sort that can be suppressed forever."
"If their manifestations were mild, a magical garment or sealing could calm them. But your daughters are far beyond that."
"Rin is a composite of the five great elements; Sakura bears the Imaginary attribute—both are among the top-tier abnormalities in today's mystic world. Ordinary seals and artifacts can't contain such forms permanently."
Rovie watched Tokiomi's face as he spoke.
"So the answer is to guide them into the path of magecraft. But the Tohsaka house has but one magic imprint to pass on — only one can inherit it. The other would have to live as a normal person. Yet her nature would continue to draw inexplicable dangers until tragedy strikes."
"Perhaps you've considered the Clock Tower or other institutions," Rovie went on. "But those places are not safe havens. The Clock Tower's custodians and the Alchemists' circles would see such miracle-born children as artifacts for study. They would justify preservation with lofty words, but their methods are…inhuman. They would lock them away under the guise of protecting knowledge."
…
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