Faerun: The arcane mage is still too imprisoned.

"Lillian, you should go take a shower and get some rest," Arya said to her daughter.

"But I still want to—" Lillian wanted to protest.

"You have sword practice tomorrow morning and class in the afternoon. You need plenty of sleep." Arya's tone was gentle but firm. "Go, my little star."

Lillian reluctantly stood up and bowed to Lance: "See you tomorrow, Professor Lance."

"See you tomorrow, Lillian. Remember the meditation method I taught you; you can practice it for ten minutes before bed."

"I will!"

After the girl left, only Lance and Arya remained in the restaurant. The candlelight flickered, casting swaying shadows on their faces.

Arya didn't get up, but instead leaned back in her chair, the neckline of her long dress opening slightly as a result, revealing a small patch of fair skin and the beautiful lines of her collarbone.

"Thank you, Mr. Lance," she said softly. "Lillian hasn't been this happy in a long time."

"She's smart, she just needs time."

"I know," Arya sighed, a sigh filled with a mother's weariness and worry.

"She was introverted and not very sociable from a young age."

"While the other noble children gathered to play knight games, she would always hide in her study to read or practice her sword in the training ground."

"I used to worry that she was too withdrawn, but now it seems... maybe she just hasn't grown up yet."

Lance listened quietly.

"The Silvershine family has served in the military for generations," Arya continued, her gaze drifting into the void as if recalling something.

"My grandfather was a marshal of the kingdom, my father was a vanguard general, and I... was raised as a warrior from a young age. When Lillian was born, everyone thought she would inherit this bloodline, including me."

"And she certainly lived up to expectations. At the age of eight, the first time she held a sword, she was able to defeat the elite veterans who were training with her and make them run away in terror."

"His swordsmanship talent is indeed excellent," Lance exclaimed.

"What swordsmanship talent?!" Arya burst out laughing, her body trembling with mirth.

"Lillian didn't know anything about swordsmanship back then! She just relied on her greater strength and speed."

"That's still impressive." Lance nodded. "To overcome all laws with sheer force."

"'Strength can overcome all laws'?" Arya pondered the phrase. "Mr. Lance, your words are profound!"

"This is the first time I've ever heard of it!"

"I only heard it secondhand, just secondhand..."

"Sigh," Arya sighed.

"But this child has been clamoring to become a monk lately—is becoming a monk so easy? Can she just become one whenever she wants?!"

"Actually, wanting to become a mage isn't necessarily a bad thing," Lance said.

"I know." Arya looked away and turned her gaze back to Lance.

"So when she suddenly said she wanted to learn magic, I was surprised, but also relieved—she had finally found something she wanted to do. I was just worried...whether she could keep going."

Her gaze turned serious: "Mr. Lance, please tell me honestly. In your opinion, does Lillian have the potential to become a mage?"

Lance remained silent for a moment.

"Yes," he finally said. "Her mental strength is very sharp, but it's suppressed by the physical instincts brought by her warrior bloodline."

"Like a river, if the riverbed is too hard, the water can hardly seep through. But as long as you find a crack, or... slowly grind it down over time, you will eventually succeed."

"How long will it take?"

"It depends on her, and it depends on me," Lanstan said.

"If I teach her well and she works hard enough, maybe in a few weeks, maybe in a few months. But if she still has reservations deep down, she may never truly be able to touch the magic net."

Arya closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened her eyes again, their usual sharpness and determination had returned.

"Then, I'll leave it to you." She stood up, walked to Lance's side, and extended her hand.

"Regardless of the outcome, the Silver Glow family will remember this kindness."

Lance stood up and took her hand. Arya's hand felt warmer than the last time they shook hands.

But this time, she didn't let go immediately.

"Mr. Lance," Arya's voice lowered, carrying a certain magnetic quality, "you know what? You are the most... special mage I have ever met."

Her thumb lightly traced the back of Lance's hand, a subtle movement but with a clear intention.

"Most mages are either as rigid as a stone or as incomprehensible as madness. You are different."

She moved closer, and Lance could smell her faint perfume, mixed with a scent that seemed to be a mixture of sulfur and fire.

"You are strong and highly proactive; young, yet possess a maturity beyond your years. And..."

Her gaze fell on Lance's face, her admiration undisguised:

"You are really very...pleasing to the eye, very...delicious."

These words were so blunt as to be almost offensive, but when Arya said them, they carried a sense of natural frankness.

She is both an elite-level warrior variant and a noblewoman with military power and great wealth—so from childhood, she would simply ask for whatever she wanted.

Lance smiled slightly, neither withdrawing his hand nor taking any further action.

"Ms. Arya," he said calmly, "you are beautiful too. But we are in an employment relationship now, and I prefer to keep my work and personal life separate."

This statement neither rejected nor accepted the offer, leaving room for maneuver.

A hint of surprise flashed in Arya's eyes, which then turned into even greater interest.

She released her grip, took a half step back, and her red lips curved into a playful smile.

"A wise choice." She nodded. "Then, at least during work hours, I will remain professional."

Thank you for your understanding.

"I'll see you to the door."

The two walked out of the main house side by side.

Silverglow Manor is quiet and beautiful at night, with magic lamps illuminating the carefully tended gardens along the paths.

The night breeze carries the fresh scent of grass and trees, mixed with the faint hustle and bustle of the distant city.

"By the way," Arya suddenly said as they reached the gate, "you don't need to worry about the city lord's mansion. Lord Graham has already said that as long as you don't disrupt the city's basic order or attack the nobles again, you can do whatever you want."

Lance raised an eyebrow: "Oh? He's that forgiving?"

"It's less about tolerance and more about reality," Arya chuckled.

"There are only a dozen or so resident mages in Rield City, and each one is a treasure. Someone as young, powerful, talented, and beautiful as you is an even more precious gem."

"The city lord treats you like royalty, how could he possibly make things difficult for you?"

"What about the other nobles? I wiped out Baron Yodl, and they didn't object?"

"Those who had objections were all persuaded by the city lord." Arya's tone was meaningful.

"I don't know the specifics of how they persuaded him, but I heard that after the two viscounts were summoned to the city lord's mansion for tea, they never mentioned the matter again."