Jeanne Seems to Be Catching Someone in the Act / The Magician's Weakness / Madness

[Prelati did not directly expose this killing intent in front of you.]

[On the contrary, after that day, her behavior was that of a normal person.]

[However, you did not let down your guard against her because of this.]

[You knew that deep down, she was still a mad magician.]

[You intentionally avoided leaving Jeanne and Prelati alone together.]

[But you didn't expect this to attract Jeanne's attention instead.]

[She became a little worried.]

"Brother~" Hearing that it was his adopted sister Jeanne's voice, Pierre quickly turned around.

"Jeanne, what's wrong?" he asked gently, his gaze loving.

"Nothing much," she replied, her blue eyes looking at him with affection.

"It's just—" Jeanne secretly glanced at Prelati beside her, looking very nervous.

"Brother... why have you seemed to be avoiding her lately?" she asked softly, her gaze worried.

"Is it because you're afraid I'll get angry if I see you with her?" she added, her voice a little hesitant.

"..." Pierre glanced at Prelati, then quickly returned his gaze to Jeanne in front of him.

"That's not the case at all," he said gently, shaking his head.

"I simply feel that I should spend more time with you," he explained, his gaze loving.

"Eh?!" Hearing her brother's incredibly straightforward words, Jeanne's face instantly flushed red.

But she quickly seemed to remember something and shook her head.

"Brother, you can't keep going like this!" she exclaimed, her blue eyes looking at him with a hint of urgency.

"Can't?" Pierre frowned slightly. "Why not? Are you very unhappy with Brother doing this?" he asked, his gaze a little worried.

"That's not it!" Jeanne quickly waved her hands, denying her brother's statement.

"Didn't Brother say before... that you wanted to learn more about that English magician from her?" she asked, her blue eyes looking at him with concern.

"If you focus all your energy on me now—"

"Wouldn't you be unable to do that?" she finished, her voice a little hesitant.

"..."

[You realized that your younger sister Jeanne had firmly remembered what you had said that day.]

[Being unable to help in any way, she was worried that she was affecting your "plan."]

[You decided to dispel this concern for her.]

"It's okay," Pierre reached out and gently stroked his adopted sister's head.

A soft touch quickly returned to his hand.

"Jeanne hasn't affected Brother's plan," he reassured her gently.

"However—"

"If I go to her so directly now, Jeanne won't turn around and get angry, will she?" he asked, a playful smile on his lips.

"Brother!" Jeanne pouted.

"Do I look like such an unreasonable younger sister?" she asked, her blue eyes looking at him with a hint of reproach.

"If you're doing something important—"

"I definitely won't get angry," she said softly, her gaze loving.

"...I see," Pierre nodded and smiled slightly. "I understand," he said gently.

"Since you've said so, I'll immediately shift my attention back to that," he promised, his gaze resolute.

"Mmm!" Jeanne revealed a sweet smile, then suddenly seemed to remember something important.

"By the way, Brother," she said, her blue eyes looking at him with curiosity.

"Hmm?" Pierre looked at her expectantly.

"Never mind~" Jeanne looked at her adopted brother, her smile still bright.

She had actually intended to ask him if he had secretly become a magician at some point without her knowing.

But on second thought—

Such a thing wasn't important at all.

Whether he was a magician or not, he was still the person who loved her.

And even if he was hiding it from her, there must be a reason, right?

[Jeanne's understanding made your mood a little lighter.]

[You realized that being too wary of Prelati would make your adopted sister nervous as well.]

[Besides, there were indeed some things you wanted to ask her.]

[You decided to talk to her as soon as possible.]

Inside an inn in some village.

This was already the unknown number of villages the trio had arrived at—winter roads were always more difficult to travel than summer ones, so the number of stops had also increased quite a bit.

At this very moment, Pierre and Prelati were sitting on opposite sides of a round wooden table.

Two glasses of excellent vintage wine sat quietly on the table, silently telling of the seemingly insurmountable distance between the two.

"Say—" Prelati glanced seemingly unintentionally at the corner of the hallway in the hall.

There, Jeanne, clutching the wall, was peeking out with half her head, looking towards where her brother was.

Her expression looked very worried, but she seemed to be refraining from coming out because of something.

"Your precious little sister is still watching over here, you know," Prelati said, a playful smile on her lips.

"If you sit across from me so openly, aren't you afraid she'll get angry?" she asked, her violet eyes looking at him with amusement.

"If it's just this kind of problem, I don't think there's any need for you to worry, Prelati," Pierre replied calmly.

"After all, the fact that I can sit here now is largely because Jeanne suggested I do so," he explained, his gaze steady.

"So—"

"You don't have to worry about Jeanne getting angry," he concluded, his tone firm.

"Is that so?" Prelati pouted. "I don't think that's the case at all," she said, her violet eyes looking at him intently.

"Because I feel—" The purple-haired girl reached out and touched the back of Pierre's hand.

"She's probably not as magnanimous as you think," she said, her violet eyes looking at him with a hint of mischief.

Sure enough, just as Prelati had predicted.

The moment her hand touched Pierre's, Jeanne, who had been hiding aside and looked very calm, instantly became anxious, as if she was about to jump out and catch someone in the act.

But—

Before Prelati could test the limits of Jeanne's patience,

Pierre had already directly shaken off her hand and asked coldly.

"If I'm not mistaken, Jeanne should be watching nearby, right?" he asked, his gaze sharp.

"..."

[Prelati was a little surprised.]

[She hadn't expected you to realize this so quickly at all.]

[She couldn't help but be a little curious as to how you knew.]

"You guessed it so quickly," Prelati looked at the boy with interest—even though he already had a mature look that completely didn't match his age.

"Did you already know your younger sister was nearby?" she asked, her violet eyes looking at him with curiosity.

"At first, I just thought there was a possibility," Pierre replied to Prelati neither humbly nor arrogantly. "And your actions confirmed it," he added, his gaze steady.

"My actions?" Prelati asked, her brow furrowed slightly.

"Yes," Pierre looked directly at the purple-haired girl.

"Don't you know that once you have a certain purpose, your actions become very deliberate?" he asked, his gaze sharp.

"Deliberately reaching out your hand... that means you intend to provoke someone, right? And the only one You can provoke—is my younger sister," he concluded, his tone firm.

"..." Prelati's smile froze for a moment, replaced by deep self-doubt.

"Is it really that obvious??" she asked, her violet eyes looking at him with a hint of disbelief.

"It is," Pierre affirmed again. "Hasn't anyone ever mentioned this to you before?" he asked, his brow furrowed slightly.

"No!" Prelati exclaimed, her violet eyes widening slightly.

"..."

"..."

"What's with that look on your face!" Prelati became anxious. "Is this funny?" she demanded, her violet eyes looking at him with a hint of anger.

"Hmm... not funny at all," Pierre said, his expression serious.

He composed the smile on his face.

"Then—"

"Let's get back to the main topic," he said, his gaze direct.

"Prelati, you should still remember the promise you made, right? You... will tell me more information about that English magician along the way," he reminded her, his gaze steady.

"Yes, of course I remember," the purple-haired girl picked up the wine glass in front of her and took a small sip.

"What do you want to ask this time?" she asked, her violet eyes looking at him expectantly.

"Weaknesses," Pierre replied without any hesitation.

"I want to know what weaknesses this English magician has that are enough to defeat her," he explained, his gaze sharp.

"..."

[Your request seemed to strike a chord within Prelati.]

[The smile on her face was gradually disappearing.]

[You realized that this question seemed to have a completely different meaning for her.]

[You felt that the situation was a bit bad.]

"Is this question impossible to answer?" Pierre broke the silence. "Or is it that you don't know the answer either?" he asked, his brow furrowed in curiosity.

"If you put it that way—" Prelati met Pierre's gaze directly.

"It's more like there are too many answers, so much so that I don't even know how to answer properly," she said, her violet eyes looking at him intently.

"Too many answers?" This was an answer Pierre had never expected.

"What does that mean?" he asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"It means exactly what it says," Prelati gulped down a large glass of wine, then let out a long sigh.

"Because there are just too many things she's afraid of, so much so that it's not really reasonable to pick just one as a representative," she explained, her violet eyes looking at him thoughtfully.

"Perhaps it should be said like this... anything that can kill a mortal can also be used to kill her, that's roughly how it is," she concluded, her tone casual.

Such an explanation couldn't help but make Pierre a bit puzzled.

"Then if you say so—"

"Isn't this the weakest magician then? The English would actually believe that such a magician could bring them victory?" he asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Heh," Prelati sneered.

"That's why I said you've been burdened too much by your younger sister... even your understanding of magicians has become quite dull," she said, her violet eyes looking at him with a hint of mockery.

"The strength of a magician isn't measured by such boring things as whether they can be killed or not," she added, her tone sharp.

"What's more—" The purple-haired girl licked her lips.

"People can be killed, but they won't necessarily die," she said, her violet eyes looking at him intently.

"What does that mean?" Pierre felt like he had come into contact with something extraordinary.

"It's a very simple principle," Prelati drained the wine in the glass in front of her, then pointed to the empty glass with her finger and continued.

"Just like this wine glass—" The girl said this while conjuring flames and burning away a part of it.

"The death in your eyes is actually just destroying a 'part' of her like this," she explained, her violet eyes looking at him intently.

"But the original form of the wine glass still exists," she added, her gaze steady.

"As long as you grasp this point—" With a slight effort from the girl, the burnt wine glass gradually returned to its original state.

"No matter the degree of death, it's just a reversible simple process," she concluded, her violet eyes looking at him with a hint of triumph.

"..."

[You understood what Prelati meant.]

[That magician could indeed be killed in various ways—but "death" did not mean the end for her.]

[This was an immortal body that allowed death to exist.]

[You suddenly understood in an instant what kind of concept the strength that the English soldiers were talking about was.]

[But at the same time, you couldn't help but have a question.]

"How do you know such things?" Pierre looked at Prelati in front of him. "This is already extremely secret, right?" he asked, his brow furrowed in curiosity.

"Secret?" Hearing this, Prelati burst out laughing.

"This is no secret at all—because she has no intention of hiding such a thing," she said, her voice filled with amusement.

"After all, if everyone knows that magic can achieve this level, it can also be considered leaving her own mark in the history of magic, right?" she added, her violet eyes sparkling.

"Of course... in that case, perhaps quite a few people would try to see if they could kill her, right?" she mused, tilting her head slightly.

"But that doesn't matter, she wouldn't care about such things," she concluded, her tone casual.

"..." Pierre was silent for a long while before speaking again.

"Are all magicians... such crazy people?" he asked, his gaze thoughtful.

"How can this be called madness?" Prelati looked directly at Pierre.

"As a magician, one should have the resolve that matches this identity," she said firmly, her violet eyes looking at him intently.

"If I say so—you should be able to understand what I mean, right?" she added, a hint of expectation in her voice.

"..."

[You naturally knew the other meaning contained in Prelati's words—that magicians should be as obsessed with leaving their own mark as she was.]

[But you completely couldn't agree with this idea.]

[This went against your usual way of thinking.]

"Prelati," Pierre looked at the purple-haired girl in front of him. "Don't you have anyone you care about?" he asked, his gaze gentle.

"Of course I do," Prelati replied to Pierre's gaze, a hint of madness appearing in her eyes.

"Aren't you the person I care about?" she asked, her violet eyes looking at him intently.

"Such excellent magical talent... you can't find someone like you in the entire England and France," she exclaimed, her voice filled with admiration.

"Heh, just thinking that such a person is right in front of me makes me so excited," she added, a strange smile on her lips.

"That's not called caring," Pierre said. "You just think I haven't done what a magician should do," he explained calmly.

"So you understand that too?" Prelati glanced at Jeanne in the distance—she was still secretly observing.

"Then why not go and do it... you clearly have this ability, you're just being held back by your younger sister," she urged, her violet eyes looking at him intensely.

"Prelati, I think I've said it once already," Pierre picked up the wine glass in front of him.

"Jeanne is very important to me... she's not what you call a hindrance," he said firmly, his gaze resolute.

"..." Prelati turned her face away and muttered softly.

"It doesn't matter if she is or isn't, she just shouldn't be by your side," she said under her breath.

"What did you say?" Pierre asked, his brow furrowed slightly.

"Nothing," Prelati raised the wine glass in her hand. "Have a few more drinks with me, I'll tell you more things," she offered, a playful smile on her lips.

[You drank a lot of wine with Prelati.]

[But she didn't tell you any more useful information.]

[You ended this meeting.]

[You pretended not to know anything and returned to Jeanne's side, telling her the majority of what had happened.]

[Of course, this didn't include the later part about the discussion on magic.]

[You had no more meetings like this on the journey afterward.]

[After some time, having endured many hardships, you finally returned to Domremy Village.]

[But you didn't expect that this village where you were born and raised would directly betray you.]

[On the day of your arrival, you were caught by the Burgundians who were waiting there.]

[That was the simplest and most effective betrayal.]