Lucian and Smiltle continued their conversation, but their voices had lowered significantly. Both were fully aware that they were in the dining room—where even a slightly alert adult could easily overhear them.
Lucian leaned toward Smiltle, resting his elbow on the table as he whispered, "Those two idiots—at least they have some sense, right?"
Smiltle nodded, a small smirk forming on her lips. "At the very least, they're not looking to get caught yet. I mean, they were just established a few minutes ago."
He pretended to consider her words, then nodded in agreement. "Yeah, getting exposed this soon would definitely go down in history."
Smiltle glanced around, her sharp eyes sweeping across the entire room. Her parents were still chatting with Aunt Lily—no one was paying attention to them. Still, better to be cautious.
She rested her chin on her palm, lowering her voice to a near whisper. "So what now? Are we just going to sit here and wait?"
Lucian thought for a moment before shaking his head. "No. If we stay put, we won't gather a damn thing."
Smiltle let out a soft chuckle. "So, do you have a plan, genius?"
Lucian raised an eyebrow. "Of course. But hey, are we sure we still want to dig deeper into this?"
She looked him straight in the eye, her gaze unwavering. "Obviously."
Lucian smiled. "Alright then. Tell me which class and school you go to."
Their conversation hadn't lasted much longer when a voice called from the living room.
"Smiltle, it's time to go home."
It was Smiltle's mother.
She and Lucian exchanged a glance. Both understood—it was time to pause their little expedition.
Lucian shrugged, his voice carrying no hint of disappointment. "So that's it for today?"
Smiltle didn't seem particularly upset either. She simply stood up, straightened her dress, and smiled. "We still have school tomorrow. The only issue is that we go to different schools."
Lucian rested his chin on his palm, pretending to be deep in thought. "Tomorrow, huh… Hm, but hey, don't you find school boring?"
Smiltle chuckled softly but didn't answer. She had already started walking toward the living room, where her parents were waiting.
Richard held his daughter's coat, helping her put it on. As he buttoned it up, he asked, "Did you have fun, sweetheart?"
Smiltle beamed, though her answer wasn't exactly relevant to the question. "Lucian is adorable."
Her mother, Vivian, glanced at Lucian before asking gently, "Would you like to visit Aunt Lily's again? I mean, this weekend, not at the end of the month."
Smiltle shrugged. "Depends on whether Lucian has anything fun to do."
From across the room, Lucian called out, "There's always something fun!"
Smiltle's parents both laughed—but in a way she couldn't quite explain. It was as if they understood something she didn't.
The Light family bid farewell to Lily and Lucian before stepping out of the house.
The sky had darkened completely. The crisp evening air wrapped around Smiltle as she stepped onto the porch.
Today had been a long day.
---
The pale morning light filtered through the window, casting soft rays into Smiltle's room. She shifted slightly, her brown eyes cracking open for a moment before squeezing shut again.
She didn't need to check the clock to know it was still early.
From downstairs, the sound of clinking dishes and the faint aroma of toast and coffee drifted into the air. Her parents were already awake.
Smiltle pulled the blanket over her head, savoring the last moments of laziness before officially starting the day. But just then, her bedroom door swung open.
"Smiltle, wake up." Her mother's familiar voice rang out.
Smiltle groaned but reluctantly sat up. "It's too early…"
Vivian stood by the doorway, arms crossed, smiling. "Early is six o'clock. It's nearly seven."
Smiltle had no comeback for that. She rubbed her eyes, got out of bed, and stretched.
"Come down for breakfast. You have school." Her mother added before leaving the room.
Smiltle sluggishly made her way to the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face to wake up. Looking into the mirror, she shrugged—nothing unusual, just the same old Smiltle.
When she came downstairs, her father was already seated at the dining table, reading the newspaper while sipping his coffee.
Richard glanced up and waved. "Good morning, sweetheart."
Smiltle sat down, picking up a piece of toast. "Morning, Dad."
Breakfast was peaceful. A normal morning, just like any other—because no one mentioned what had happened yesterday.
Smiltle was mid-bite when her mother spoke, her voice gentle yet unmistakably firm:
"Smiltle, review your lessons after breakfast. Exams are next week."
She paused slightly but then shrugged. "I know."
"Knowing but not doing is the same as not knowing." Vivian took a sip of tea, her calm gaze making Smiltle feel a bit uneasy. "I've arranged for someone to help you study."
A sense of dread crept in as Smiltle hurriedly swallowed her toast. "Who?"
"Mr. Gregory."
She blinked, completely caught off guard by the name.
Richard lowered his newspaper, raising an eyebrow. "Halverson?"
Vivian nodded, stirring her tea slowly. "He's more than willing to help. That is, if Smiltle is willing to study at his place."
Smiltle set her toast down, a dramatic frown forming on her face. "I bet he's thrilled."
Vivian smiled serenely. "Very."
Richard chuckled, shaking his head. "I don't think that guy has the patience to teach kids."
"That's a later problem." Vivian turned to Smiltle. "But you, dear, don't have a choice."
Smiltle sighed, resting her chin on her hands. "Can I at least propose an alternative study method?"
"No."
She was speechless.
After a moment, Smiltle put down her glass of milk, crossed her arms, and declared:
"No. I'm not studying with Mr. Gregory."
Vivian remained unfazed, tilting her head slightly. "Why not?"
"I don't want to."
"Not wanting to is not a valid reason."
Smiltle raised an eyebrow. "If 'not wanting to' isn't a valid reason, then here's a better one: I don't want to waste my time."
Vivian took another sip of tea, her expression unreadable. "Waste your time? What do you mean?"
"Mr. Gregory is brilliant, no doubt." Smiltle shrugged. "But he's not the kind of person who has the patience to teach step by step. He's too smart for that—you know it too, Mom. And because of that, he's not suited to be a tutor. He'll think I'm slow, I'll think he's impossible. It's a failed combination from the start."
Richard chuckled, setting his newspaper down. "She's got a point."
Vivian shot him a look before turning back to Smiltle. "Then do you have another option?"
"Of course." Smiltle grinned. "Self-study."
"Denied."
Smiltle rolled her eyes. "Mom, I've been self-studying for years, and nothing's ever gone wrong."
"Didn't you once complain that some subjects were harder than necessary?" Vivian placed her tea down. "It's better to have a skilled mentor."
"But it doesn't have to be Gregory, right?"
Vivian remained silent for a moment before answering calmly,
"But it is Gregory. Because I already asked him."
Smiltle blinked, sensing something off. "Mom…"
"No more discussion." Vivian ended with a soft yet authoritative tone.
Smiltle turned to her father for support, but Richard simply shrugged, half amused, half uninvolved.
"Good luck, kiddo."
"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Smiltle groaned. "The day I have to call an overly mature child 'kiddo' will be the day I lose my mind."