The humans possessed a dangerous talent that often went unnoticed which was the ability to weave certainty out of the fragments.
A glance, a pause, a misplaced word, and suddenly, the mind constructed an entire story as though it had witnessed the truth firsthand.
The imagination filled the silence between the facts, the assumptions hardened into the belief, and the belief refused to be uprooted once it rooted deep.
Panto was no exception. From the moment Baston announced his intention to sell the ice bead and willingly step into the auction's spotlight, something inside him had refused to rest.
The merchant boy replayed the sequence again and again in his head. The sudden decision, the calm expression, and the almost deliberate indifference toward a treasure that most of the ice wizards would guard with their lives.
Inside his thoughts, the fragments began aligning and Baston had calculated it.
The realization did not arrive gently. It struck like a spark in dry tinder. The fat boy never moved without reason.
Even when he appeared lazy, even when he joked, and even when he acted unaware, there was always something that was ticking behind his eyes.
Panto had seen that look before. It was the look of someone who already knew the ending while pretending to read the beginning.
He wanted to ask. The question sat at the edge of his tongue during the entire carriage ride back to Prius Academy but he knew Baston well enough by now.
If the answer was inconvenient, it would be buried beneath the humor or redirected entirely. Baston did not lie easily since he simply chose what to reveal.
In the end, Panto swallowed the urge. Instead, another thought surfaced and it was about Alicia. If there was anyone who was capable of glimpsing through Baston's layers, it would be her.
With her noble upbringing, strategic education, and political instinct, she might notice the patterns that he could not see. The status differences were no longer mattered since the urgency had already been put forward.
If Baston was truly orchestrating something this big, someone else needed to see it too.
The carriage rolled smoothly over the stone road with the enchanted wheels that were humming faintly beneath the wooden frame.
Baston leaned back with unusual ease, occasionally humming to himself as though the auction had been nothing more than entertainment.
Panto studied him from the corner of his eye. The journey back felt calm for the two boys.
*****
For Claire and Teres, it was anything but calm. Their return carried none of the comfort or the victory.
Despite their noble lineage and formidable magic, their hearts were heavier than when they had arrived at the auction hall. Their status usually guaranteed the safety and the authority, but in front of the clown named Joker, they had been reduced to the observers.
Worse than that, they could only become the witnesses.
They had watched a man who had been disintegrated under a curse so precise and cruel that even the memory recoiled from it. There was no corpse remained and no residue lingered. It was just his memory around the venue on the day that could insist on his own existence.
The laughter from Joker was full of madness after the man died. Even now, its echo clung to their minds.
They had reported everything to the council without embellishment.
From the moment the clown appeared uninvited to the death of the bald man, it then continued to Baston until fortunately, the opponent's time was up.
The faint recoil of magic around the boy soon was released before he collapsed.
The council had listened in grave silence but the elders' reactions had been unreadable.
Whether they were concerned, skeptical, or calculating, Claire and Teres could not tell. Before they could rest easy, another invitation came toward them.
It arrived without the herald, without the official seal, and without the public announcement.
It was just a simple folded message that was delivered discreetly into their hands. They opened it and the name Angus was displayed.
The meeting place was unexpected which was a modest house at the outskirts of the city. There were no towers, no marble floors, and no insignia of prestige. That alone made them cautious since Angus was not a man who did things carelessly.
After arranging few things, they soon went to the destination. The house looked ordinary but the moment they stepped within the invisible perimeter, both of them felt it.
A special domain reverberated into the surrounding. It was subtle, complete, and absolute. It was like stepping into the center of a quiet storm.
Every movement within the boundary would be known to him. Even the owner did not see them, he knew every movement toward his guests.
They exchanged a glance before knocking and the door opened on its own. Inside, Angus sat calmly behind a simple wooden table.
There were two chairs faced him and there was nothing else adorned inside the room. There was no servants, no guards, and no distractions. It was truly a simple arrangement just like what the old man seemed to be.
"Welcome…" he said gently, "Please, take a seat."
They bowed in unison, "Thank you, great wizard Angus."
He waved the title away, "You are great wizards yourselves so there's no need to state the title."
"We do not dare to claim that title in front of you…" Teres replied with sincerity, "Your seniority surpasses ours."
"And your breakthrough had already approached the limit…" Claire added, "As for us, we are still at the beginning."
Angus smiled faintly but he did not argue further before his gaze sharpened, "I wish to hear about the clown…"
The silence briefly thickened. They began from the beginning, explaining about the chaos at the auction.
The ice bead's bidding war, the sudden appearance of Joker without triggering the alarms, and the way that the magic itself seemed blind to him. He played the game, he detected the lie, and he hurled the curse.
Claire described the bald man's final moments with careful precision. Teres spoke of Baston's response about the half-truth answer that resulted in pain but not annihilation.
"I believe the boy was fortunate," Teres concluded, "If Joker had lingered longer, he would have died."
"He was the only one who survived," Claire added, "And he is also the seller of the ice bead."
Angus leaned forward slightly, "The seller?"
Claire nodded, "Baston is a student of Prius Academy and he recently was blessed with ice element. Zeverius Academy had gifted him with ice bead though there was a hidden motive behind this kindness."
Angus's expression did not change but something behind his eyes did.
They continued, recounting how Baston had sold a treasure that would amplify his own elemental growth.
How he answered Joker imperfectly despite knowing the consequences and how he collapsed at precisely the right moment.
Unknowingly, Claire and Teres drifted into the playful argument over the auction rivalry between their families.
Angus did not hear them. He was in somewhere else, connecting between the seemingly disconnected action.
From the ice bead that was gifted by Zeverius Academy before selling it publicly.
From the conflict between the Versance family who sought the ice element item and the Herbiens who would not allow the counterpart to dominate without challenge.
From the auction which gathered both of the factions before Joker appeared.
Was everything born as the coincidence?
Angus did not believe in such coincidences that could be able to gather the nobles and the demon under one roof. He remembered Alicia mentioning that Baston had once faced Joker before and answered truthfully without harm.
Why he answered with the half-truth statement?
Why he risked himself of the pain?
Why he risked himself about the possibility of death?
Unless the pain itself served a purpose, the fat boy was not a type that would harm himself. After all, he was smarter than he looked like.
"Why you have to take that risk…?" Angus murmured.
He stood abruptly and the house soon dissolved like the mist in sunlight
Claire and Teres stared at the empty field where it had stood. The domain vanished as if it had never existed. Angus was already gone after he hurriedly excused himself.
*****
The wind magic propelled him through the sky toward Zeverius Academy, far faster than any carriage. Within several hours, he already stood before Principal Zener. There were no formalities passed between them.
"You're asking about Baston?" Principal Zener raised a brow.
"Yes..."
Principal Zener leaned back thoughtfully, "Such talented boy, able to score one thousand points during the assessment. I attempted to recruit him yet he refused. In the end, I gifted him the ice bead as the incentive."
Angus's fingers tightened subtly, looking forward to another opinion from the man.
"I informed him…" Principal Zener continued, "That certain noble families seek ice element item. Particularly, it was the Versance family. I warned him that Prius Academy may not be able to shield him from such political pressure."
Angus absorbed every word. In the end, Baston knew everything. He knew about Versance and he knew about the risk, but still, he placed the ice bead into the public auction.
If Versance desired it, they would bid. If Herbiens opposed Versance, they would intervene. If the nobles clashed, the attention would gather. Such attention might draw the predators.
In the end, it pointed everything into Joker. The clown had appeared precisely where the power was concentrated.
Had Baston predicted that?
Had he summoned them just to deal with the clown?
Angus dismissed the latter immediately. There was no student that could command of such a being. But for the bait, it required only the knowledge of appetite.
Baston had dangled something irresistible to the powerful factions, making his thoughts darkened.
If this was deliberate, then the boy was not merely clever. He was dangerous yet another inconsistency lingered. The half-truth answer was confusing.
If Baston knew the rule that complete honesty avoided the harm, he should not answer imperfectly. Unless he needed to appear vulnerable, there was no need to hurt himself.
However, after thinking the matter thoroughly, there was an advantage of being punished for such incomplete answer.
If he had answered flawlessly again, the suspicion might deepen.
Surviving Joker twice without injury would draw the scrutiny. But collapsing against the clown with that preserved story, it would be deemed as lucky, fragile, and careless.
Angus exhaled slowly, pondering how far such poor boy could predict the future.
Was the boy protecting himself from Joker or from everyone else?
He left Zeverius Academy with heavier contemplation than before.
*****
Meanwhile, back at the return trip, Baston stepped from the carriage with theatrical laziness. He stretched, looking at the small village in front of him.
"Ah… Finally, I can rest on the bed..."
"Are you tired?" Panto asked.
"I'm exhausted," Baston replied without hesitation, "I'm nearly died and I had terrible experience against the clown. I would not recommend such experience."
The humor felt deliberate and Panto forced a laugh.
That night, the whispers began circulating through the city and the surrounding town. It was about the clown's curse, about the noble panic, and about the auction disaster.
In the meantime, Baston remained in his small room. He was alone and the moonlight filtered through the small window, casting a pale illumination across his bed.
He leaned back and his eyes were reflecting a quiet calculation.
The journey back couldn't be resolved quickly so he had to stay for a night at the nearest settlement. Having to stay inside the carriage was uncomfortable so Panto took the initiative to pay for the stay.
Thankfully for him, the money wouldn't be a problem in such small village.
He enjoyed the silence, but at the outside, many whispers were still contradicting against each other.
The inn itself was old and its wooden beams were creaking whenever the wind brushed against the walls.
From the narrow corridor, the footsteps passed occasionally, followed by hushed conversations that stopped the moment that someone noticed another presence nearby.
The news traveled faster than the carriages.
The story of the clown had already reached this small settlement ahead of them, distorted and reshaped by several frightened tongues.
Some said the bald man had offended a demon, some claimed the ice bead itself was cursed, and the others whispered that the fat boy had survived because he had made a pact.
He heard the fragments of those rumors that were drifting through the thin walls. He did not move and he did not react but his fingers tapped lightly against the wooden frame of the bed in slow rhythm.
It was quite interesting to listen such unbelievable rumors.
*****
Across the city, Angus stood atop a tower balcony while the wind was brushing his robes. His mind was pondering about the mystery between Baston and the clown.
"This boy…" he murmured, "Was he merely adapting to danger or orchestrating it?"
The mystery did not lie in Joker alone. It lay in his intention and such intention was invisible. Somewhere between the coincidence and the conspiracy, the truth waited to be revealed.
Angus decided one thing that he would not confront Baston yet. He had to hold his observation first before the understanding later.
The clown still roamed free while Versance and Herbiens would not remain idle. As for Baston, he moved like a stone that was dropped into still water.
The ripples were spreading whether he meant them or not. Coming out from Zeverius Academy, Angus had new perception about the boy.
This fat boy was getting smarter than him, almost fooling the old wizard.
Still, he harrumphed because his experience could determine that something was fishy.
He then walked ahead to somewhere, leaving a couple of unanswered questions left to Baston if he had a chance to meet him on the way.