Math Is Magic Chapter 26: CHAPTER 26: The Royal Garden

Read chapter 26 of Math Is Magic by iminchoo on NovelPedia.

{ 5 DAYS LATER… } It was Sunday, April 6th. The air was crisp, and the sun reigned over a clear sky, dotted only by a few soft white clouds lazily drifting on the horizon. Mirac was making his way towards the garden entrance. His legs, strong and sturdy, moved with confidence, free from the fatigue he had felt during the early months of training. From that moment onward, Mirac was certain that the intensity of the training would increase significantly. But he was ready to face any challenge! It was with this burning spirit that Mirac had shown up on April first, when his father, King Arthur, had been waiting for him to observe his training with Leonard. As in previous times, that afternoon the king had stopped at the edge of the field, his inscrutable gaze fixed on Mirac. No emotion had been apparent on his stern features: neither the warmth of pride nor the coldness of disappointment. Only that constant presence, which, since he had spoken about it with Carmen, Mirac had stopped questioning whether it was a sign of affection or mere duty. On the contrary, he had begun to focus solely on what truly mattered: handling the sword! He had to ensure that the desire to improve outweighed the sense of inadequacy conveyed by his father's eyes. On April 2nd, the day after witnessing the young Prince's training, King Arthur, accompanied by the Grand Knight Leonard and the feared "Infernal Knights," had departed for the Sacred Region. Mirac only knew that an important global conference was scheduled, but nothing else: the details had not been considered something to share with a young Prince of only eight years like him. When he reached the grand gate of the garden, Mirac saw Vincent waiting for him. The man seemed agitated, a mix of anxiety and impatience written all over him. He kept adjusting his tie and glasses, automatic gestures betraying his nervousness. His restless eyes darted beyond the gate, towards the heart of the garden. As always, the moment Vincent entered his line of sight—even though it was far from the first time Mirac had seen him—the young Prince's innate skill, "Instant Knowledge of Age," triggered in his mind like an alarm bell. 'It's absurd!' thought Mirac. 'How can he only be thirty-nine? He looks at least fifty!' Of course, Mirac would never voice such a thought aloud, even though it rang clearly in his mind every day during lessons. "Oh, young Prince!" Vincent exclaimed, finally noticing his presence. His voice was a blend of relief and reverence. He bowed deeply, as protocol dictated. "I'm immensely grateful for your coming." "Don't worry, Professor Shirkenn," said Mirac with a warm smile. "Helping you is truly a pleasure." The two of them stood before the majestic entrance of the royal garden, just as Vincent had planned five days earlier. The idea had sprung from him with surprising ease, almost as if it had come about by chance. The plan was simple, yet full of meaning: to gather flowers from the royal garden and create a bouquet with a subtle, elegant, and genuine charm. With this gift in hand, Vincent hoped to finally muster the courage to ask Carmen out the following Sunday. A thought that, in his anxious heart, wavered between sweet promise and sharp uncertainty. Today, Carmen, the servant with lively red hair, had left the castle to go into town to shop. She wouldn't be back until sunset, which would give Mirac and Vincent several hours to carry out their plan. However, while Mirac stood there with his usual calm posture, Vincent couldn't hide his growing tension. He was visibly agitated, as though every small detail could determine the success or failure of his mission. In an attempt to distract him and lighten the mood, Mirac threw him a compliment in a relaxed tone: "Black suits you." He smiled, then winked. "But tell me, those are new clothes, aren't they? I've never seen you wear them before." Vincent's outfit was entirely black: a sleek shirt, perfectly pressed pants, a tie impeccably knotted, an