The sun was up, in contrast to yesterday, shining brightly. It gave a faint glow to still wet grass and mostly green leaves. Florent’s gardens were beautiful, even in early autumn; their gardeners, as always, had done a great job. Their mansion wasn’t too far from the town, so it was a quick ride for Dante and Ron. No ghost followed Dante there and Iza claimed those noble’s ‘tea-parties’ were boring.

  The Duke and Duchess waited for them in a small room whose only purpose was for tea visits. It wouldn't hold more than eight people. Both hosts greeted Dante, standing out. Ron quickly excused himself, deciding to help the servants prepare tea and refreshments. The first to greet Dante wasn’t Duke Claude, but a small roll of downy fluff. The divine beast launched itself at the young lord like its entire existence depended on Dante patting its head.

  At first glance, it looked like an ordinary lamb, maybe just a little too small, but that could be explained by dwarfism. The thing that wasn’t easy to explain was that it could fly. Of course, the lamb didn’t have any wings; that would look totally creepy. Too creepy for such a cute creature. Its wool was also unusual, but not as much as its ability to fly. That soft fluff was not only so good to touch but also changed colour every season. Now it was orange, but not like pumpkin, more like clouds that were touched by the light of a setting sun. When a cloth was made of that wool, no matter how hot or freezing, the wearer couldn’t feel it. It nuzzled its horned head into Dante’s chest.

  Madam Ophelia chuckled: “If anyone had told me that our little Lumie would do that to someone outside the family, I would have never believed them.” She didn’t hide her smile, as Dante was a child she considered more or less a member of their family.

  He still remembered calling this woman ‘Auntie Ophie’. When he was young, he spent almost as much time with her as with his own mother, to whom he was glued constantly. Ophelia, in comparison to her, had softer features and darker skin that perfectly paired up with long, flame-like hair. Dante’s mother had jet black hair just like he does.

  “I’m sorry that Alicia’s not here with us,” Duke offered a handshake, “She’s faking an illness again.”

  “Claude Florent!” His wife scolded him, taking offence at their daughter’s stance. He looked at her with his green eyes, which seemed to tell ‘I only speak the truth.’ Alicia took after him, not just in temperament, though she would never admit it, but in the sharp angles of their faces framed by auburn waves.

  “What? It’s just Dante; besides, it takes two to tango. They both avoid each other like fire,” he gestured for his guest to sit. The young lord, still petting the Lamb’s head and horns, took one of the spare chairs. Divine Beast decided that was a perfect time for belly scratches.

  “The two of you were so lovely when you were younger. We nearly married you on the spot. Remember when you were calling her Wifey?” She smiled softly, reminiscing. Dante’s face didn’t have any reaction, but in truth, he wanted to bury himself in the ground.

  “Ophelia, you’re embarrassing the boy,” Duke Claude said, but his tone was light. He didn’t mind anything his wife said from marriage to the old nickname.

  “Someone has to if Duke Crimson cannot,” she said simply, but the implication was clear. Duke avoided her eyes, not wanting to converse about his old friend. Ophelia never really liked Dante’s father.

  Soon, the servants entered after a light knock, and the room filled with the flowery aroma. The tea set was made of glass. Florents were the only noble family that served their tea in something so simple, but even that had its reasons. The tea they served was an art in itself. Flowering tea looked like the flowers grew in the teapot.

  Duke added some sugar to his cup when the household left. Dante was ready for the two awkward questions the man always asked. It was like he and Dante shared the same level of social skill, even though their reputations were opposite. Duke Claude couldn't hold a simple small talk.

  “How does the academy treat you?” He was satisfied with a simple answer like ‘good’. The next question followed, the second that word left the young lord’s mouth: “How’s your health?” This one required a longer answer. Claude valued health, as he didn’t have one hand. The answer must be at least longer than ‘as usual’.

  When their conversation had been rehearsed many times, small-talk ended, and the Duchess sighed, not because her tea was too hot to drink.

  “This is why I want Alicia here. I can’t listen to you two struggle to communicate,” both men looked at the crystal chandelier, avoiding the unspoken question. Dante was sure that Florents knew why he avoided showing any expressions. They may have brushed it with grief, but deep down, they knew it wasn’t that.

  Duke cleared his throat while Dante took a sip of the tea. It already had a sweet but delicate taste, so he didn’t add any sugar. He was more of a coffee drinker, so the lack of caffeine in this type of tea always threw him off.

  “About the current situation,” Claude started, and the younger man didn’t make a move to stop him. For Dante personally, it was unnecessary to confide him in, but that was a noble etiquette. He was sure his father had already gotten a letter regarding the situation, with all the details that would have been hidden if they weren’t one of the four. “The monsters showed up right after cleansing, which is strange. Captain and I are already researching if something like this happened in the past. She’s going to take a look in the Academy’s library; you can offer help, but she will most definitely brush it off,” he spoke of Alera more affectionately than he spoke of his older wife. Ophelia wasn’t bothered in the slightest, taking a sip of her tea. “Those monsters are stronger than normal, that’s why I advise you to be careful. For now, we have less information to resolve the situation quickly.”

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  “It’s understandable, mana waste is out of everyone’s control,” Dante nodded his head, not knowing what else he should add. He wasn’t interested in this subject, Claude could have been discussing weather patterns for all he cared.

  “Let’s just hope we don’t end up like Mist City,” Ophelia sighed, taking a bite of the pastry that was brought along with the tea.

  “Why do you always have such dark thoughts, my friend?” Claude’s only hand brushed his hair. Dante just tangled his fingers into Lumie’s wool.

  Suddenly, the room was invaded by a certain ghost. It was a man who died in his late twenties. He always played tricks on the Duke when Dante visited. His neck looked like he had been strangled, so he guessed it was the Duchess's first husband, who gambled away his life. Nothing in Florent's history was secret, probably as an admonition to others.

  He waved at Dante with enthusiasm, like he always did. The ghosts in this mansion were nicer than others; they didn’t gossip as much, given the mansion's history.

  “Is he done with the boring stuff?!” the ghost asked, but Dante pretended not to see him, so he didn’t give any reaction. Besides, no one would have believed him even if he did. Better to let the dead have their petty victories or else they can be insufferable themselves. One Iza was enough for Dante. When Claude took his cup, the ghost grasped his wrist like he wanted to strangle an animal. He just didn’t have enough strength to do what he wanted to. It looked comical from the side. Soon, Duke’s hand started to shake. The Florent family’s head looked absolutely terrified when tea started spilling, and the ghost on the other hand, looked like he was having a sparring match with a bear. It took so much restraint in Dante’s facial muscles not to slip a smile.

  “Why is this happening again?” Claude caught the cup with his feet when it flew out of his grasp. Ophelia was amused by his deadpanned reaction and cracked a genuine smile.

  “See, that’s how she's supposed to be at all times! Smiling!” The ghost looked pleased but tired at the same time, like he had just achieved a life goal. Dante knew practically everything about the household, family, and most importantly, Ophelia, because this ghost never knew how to shut up. Especially when it came to his perfect wife. He wanted to stay near her to make sure she was happy and for some unknown reasons, he enjoyed tormenting Claude. Maybe he was jealous that the man held the title of her husband better than him, even when there was no love in this marriage.

  Soon, the tea party became something akin to a circus. Ophelia held her laughter every time, Claude lost control of his hand, or tea exploded in his face. Dante had to give it to the ghost; he was creative, but he yapped all the time. So the young lord needed to distract himself somehow. Thankfully, the Lamb was still sitting on his lap. He played with its fur. It was always like that when he visited, maybe sometimes when Alera was around, it became quicker and more practical. Exactly how he and the Duke secretly liked each other. Ophelia was the one who wanted his company; he must have reminded her of her friend and his mother.

  Not long after breaking the teacup, Claude cut the party short, using further research on the monster phenomenon as an excuse. He advised not to wander around until it was resolved and gave his word that when he gathers more information, Dante will get a detailed formal letter.

  Only in a carriage, Dante breathed out a sigh of relief and leaned onto the window. Getting Lumie back in Duke’s hands was a struggle. It nagged Dante with its horns, messing up his shirt, trying to get under it.

  “I still don’t understand why Divine Beasts like you so much,” Ron chuckled, untangling some fluff that got tangled in Dante’s buttons.

  “Maybe it's just Grimm and Lumie, they both are lazy and like getting pets,” he said, though he knew that it was the same reason why the ghost clung to him. As they say, his aura makes them feel at ease.

  “Grimm scratched me a few times when I tried,” the butler sighed reluctantly. He always wanted to know how soft those beasts are. After a brief silence, he looked up at Dante. “I learned today that to pass your last year at the academy, you have to join a club or extracurricular class.

  Dante found sudden fascination in the window, the ceiling, anywhere but Ron.

  “I still have a lot of time. I have to get the approval of the club head for three months. There are still three semesters this year, I’ll manage, don’t worry,” he mumbled with a speed that didn’t fit his image.

  “This is why I worry,” Ron sighed. “There must be some kind of a diplomatic club.” He suggested, but seeing the frown on Dante’s face at that mention, smiled slightly in defiance of his own worries.

  “Madam Bernadette forbade me from doing that, she said that if I were to attend, that would be the end of all discussions and debates.” Ron couldn't stop himself from breaking into laughter. As a perfect butler that he was, he quickly composed himself.

  “Then why don’t you attend the one Lady Alicia is managing?” Dante gawked at him like he had just committed a heresy.

  “I would rather…”

  “Young master, if you say: drink poison, I’ll quit.” He cut him off with a big and gentle smile that meant to scold children. In truth, he wouldn't do that, no matter what would happen, but that was the only threat that ever worked on Dante. The young man avoided Ron’s eyes once again. “You’re really too similar to your great-grandfather. My mentor said that it was his saying too.”

  Dante looked like the guilty kid who got caught stealing sweets. The old man smiled; it was rare to see his master completely without the cold mask and relaxed. Dante cleared his throat.

  “That club is out of the question. I’ll decide what to choose. I still have time.”

  “If you say so, but please don’t put it out so far in the future that you’ll forget about it,” Dante nodded his head, knowing full well that the man is right. The quicker he found the club, the quicker those three months in it would pass.

  Dante again rested his head against the window. The reflection staring back at him looked calm and maybe a little tired. Right now, he just wanted to bury himself in a novel and a mountain of blankets.