Paul stood by the window of Lords Manor's study, his fingers gently tracing the familiar wood grain on the window frame.
Seven days of disappearance felt like seven years to him, or perhaps ten, or even much longer, because in that alien space without clocks or day and night, time could not be measured precisely.
It felt like a long dream, but the rough touch on his fingertips reminded him that this was reality.
" Philip," he called to Butler Phillip, his voice slightly hoarse, "go and fetch Steward Ford, Chief of Staff Schroder, Bryce, Cecil, Berna, and Hansel. Tell them all to come over. Just say… I'm back."
Butler Phillip's eyes instantly reddened, and as he bowed deeply, his silver hair trembled slightly in the sunlight: "Yes, sir."
He turned to the head guard: " Victor, go and arrange for someone to inform the officials."
As Victor turned to receive his orders, Paul noticed that the captain of the guard's boots had tripped at the threshold; this usually composed warrior had lost his composure.
Half an hour later, hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor.
The first to rush in was Bryce Alder, the usually carefree artillery commander. When he saw the figure by the window, he suddenly froze, his lips trembling but unable to utter a word.
"What, you don't recognize me after seven days?" Paul teased, only to see Bryce raise her hand and wipe her eyes hard.
As one of the few people who knew about the lord's disappearance, Bryce, despite being filled with anxiety, always put on a brave face in front of others to maintain his usual image.
Now that Paul is back, he can finally express his true feelings.
Old Ford and Schroeder arrived almost simultaneously. Old Knight, usually a supervisor, walked with a disorderly gait on the floor, while the usually meticulous head of the Political Affairs Council had his collar askew, clearly having jogged over.
" Lord Glaeman …" The Director of the Department of Political Affairs choked up as soon as he opened his mouth.
Cecil appeared silently by the door like a ghost, but his slightly trembling fingers betrayed his emotions.
Finally, Berna Francis and Hansel Abbott arrived. Upon seeing Paul, they breathed a sigh of relief, their gloom vanishing.
Paul looked around at everyone and noticed that everyone had a similar mix of exhaustion and surprise in their eyes.
They must have endured unspeakable torment during those seven days.
As the core of this group, Paul's sudden disappearance is undoubtedly terrifying, especially since he has no successor; it's as if the entire empire is about to collapse.
Fortunately, they kept it a secret and prevented the panic from spreading.
"Please sit down." Paul walked to the desk, his fingers lightly tracing the familiar patterns on the surface. "I know you have many questions…"
Sunlight streamed through the glass windows, casting a warm band of light across the floor. Dust motes floated slowly within the beam of light, as if time in Lakeheart Town had begun to flow anew at that moment.
Half an hour later...
"And so, we returned to the real world."
Paul's fingers unconsciously traced the rim of his teacup, his gaze drifting over the pattern on the carpet in the study.
Even after understanding the whole story, everyone was still amazed by the mysterious alternate dimension Paul had described.
A place where the mind is projected? It's hard to imagine what kind of place that is!
Old Ford suddenly remembered something important, " Lord Glaeman, that female assassin Gabella...?"
Everyone turned their attention to Paul, only to see the lord's ears turn red at a visible speed.
"About Neve... or Coleridge, well, I mean the assassin... that's another thing I want to talk about."
He cleared his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing unnaturally. "She's... uh... no longer a threat."
Schroeder frowned in confusion: "Does Your Excellency mean she has already been executed?"
"No! No…" Paul suddenly looked up, then quickly looked down again, staring at his fingers with some embarrassment.
"Where is she now?" Bryce asked anxiously.
Paul's gaze suddenly fixed on a corner of the ceiling: "She...is...temporarily... with us in Lords Manor..."
The study suddenly became so quiet that you could hear the quill pen rolling down its side.
The other men all wore knowing expressions, but Bryce, fuming, angrily rebuked Philip and Victor: "How could you leave such a dangerous individual by Lord Glaeman's side?"
Paul quickly explained, "Don't worry, Bryce, we've reached some kind of… understanding, or rather, we've shaken hands and made peace."
"You mean…" Berna carefully chose her words, "that you and Mrs. Catherine accepted her?"
"Huh?" Bryce's eyes widened in disbelief.
Paul's face flushed slightly. He picked up his teacup and took a big gulp, but choked and coughed.
"Well... it's a long story..." He covered his mouth with a handkerchief, his voice muffled, "In such an extremely special environment... the relationships between people... will undergo some changes..."
Philip cleared his throat loudly, and Butler Phillip pretended to adjust his bow tie to hide his smile.
Bryce insisted, "My lord, she is an assassin and knows magic. You must be careful and not be fooled by her disguise!"
Paul couldn't help but smile; Bryce's concern touched him deeply.
"Don't worry, time in that space is out of sync with the real world. I've spent far more time with her than you can imagine, enough for me to understand every little detail about her."
"In short!" Paul suddenly raised his voice and stood up, almost knocking over the inkwell on the table. "I can guarantee 100% that she's on our side now!"
After saying this, the young lord strode to the window as if burned, feigning great interest in the oak tree in the courtyard. Sunlight streamed through the glass window, clearly illuminating his flushed ears and neck.
Secretary Berna suddenly spoke up: "Sir, this is the summary report of the academic conference. I'm sure you'll find it interesting."
"Oh, I almost forgot."
Paul immediately turned around and took the meeting summary Berna handed him, which was densely filled with the seven-day agenda. His fingertips gently traced the signatures of the unfamiliar attendees, and a bitter smile appeared on his lips.
"It seems everyone's discussion is quite heated..." He turned to the page on calculus proofs, which was filled with complex calculations and ink marks left by heated debates. This was the discussion that he was supposed to lead.
The secretary added softly, "The attendees all expressed their regret at not being able to hear you personally explain the derivation process of the laws of motion."
Paul closed the document, and the sunlight from the window shone directly on the gold-embossed title on the back cover—"Proceedings of the First Lakeheart Town Natural Science Conference"—the light so bright it made his eyes sting.
An unexpected event caused him to miss this long-planned grand event.
However... every cloud has a silver lining, and Paul's mood quickly improved.