Chapter 121
Erietta smiled with satisfaction, yet her gaze remained fixed forward, refusing to look at Theo the way she had before.
That smile seemed meant only for herself—a reflection of a private contentment that needed no audience, not even from the person who had just helped her unlock a portion of her hidden potential.
Theo watched silently, sensing the steady and tranquil rhythm within Erietta, realizing that every movement—even a smile that small—held its own meaning that could not be interpreted carelessly.
He chose to remain silent, allowing Erietta to express herself fully without interference, restraining the urge to evaluate or respond too quickly.
In that vigilant quiet, every word that finally left Erietta's lips sounded slow yet certain, filled with confidence and an awareness of the position and experiences that had shaped her.
Theo observed each subtle intonation, each pause she made, and acknowledged that although this was not a scenario found in the game Flo Viva Mythology, something far more real and complex was unfolding.
This interaction was not merely a practice session or an exchange of information—it was a moment where a student affirmed her self-awareness, and a teacher affirmed his patience without intervening forcefully.
And when Erietta stated that she had not been wrongly matched with the right teacher, Theo swallowed the sensation rising in his chest.
There was a quiet satisfaction in knowing that his guidance and influence had helped open the path for his student to recognize the value of their meeting on her own.
But there was also caution, because this newfound awareness within Erietta brought a heavier responsibility, and Theo knew that every step forward would demand even greater care.
He remained silent, observing and sensing the flow of subtle energy that hung in the space between them, ensuring that his student could express herself freely without losing control or direction.
"Is this your version of praise or sarcasm, Erietta Bathee?
Are you deliberately trying to make your teacher feel stupid?"
'Perhaps what she feels is—despite all your shortcomings as an instructor, you are the one who gave meaning to me.'
"...."
Theo let out a small chuckle, recognizing the double nuance in Erietta's words—sincere yet interpretable as sarcasm from his own perspective.
He imagined the possibility that his student thought him the most foolish teacher who somehow managed to turn his own foolishness into something meaningful, and that thought made his lips curl into a faint smile.
While Erietta pouted, her face reddening slightly because she felt her words had not been appreciated as intended, Theo held himself back from offering further comments. He chose not to demand or critique, instead continuing with the far more productive process at hand.
Calmly, Theo opened the small yellow book that had long served as his tool for recording his student's progress.
The freshly uncapped pen in his right hand danced across the page, circling each word with rhythmic precision and care.
He drew a large circle to mark the beginning of the entry, giving the page a clear and firm title, ensuring every sentence reflected an objective understanding and observation of Erietta's growth.
Within that circle, he wrote a line affirming her newfound courage in reclaiming what once belonged to her, as well as acknowledging the maturity and confidence now visible in her character.
Each stroke of the pen felt like a soft wave marking a new rhythm in their learning process.
Theo remained seated calmly, his eyes occasionally returning to the freshly written page, feeling a small yet steady sense of satisfaction because his notes reflected not only facts but also Erietta's energy, effort, and determination.
In the silence, the bond between teacher and student showed itself without needing words, without dialogue—only through attention, observation, and consistent documentation.
"Do you have something you want to tell me?"
"Teacher, what are you writing in that yellow book now?"
Erietta looked at Theo with her head slightly tilted to the right, her eyes filled with sincere curiosity and confusion.
She did not understand the reason behind her teacher's habit of constantly scribbling in that ever-present yellow book, as if its pages contained a world inaccessible to anyone but Theo himself.
There was a mysterious aura surrounding every movement he made when the pen danced across the paper, each stroke giving the impression that the notes were not merely words, but some kind of record of energy, observations, and considerations only he could interpret.
Theo resisted a faint smile, aware of Erietta's questioning gaze.
He turned briefly to ask whether she had something to say, but before he could receive a long answer, Erietta instead reversed the question—asking what he was currently writing.
The silence that had once felt heavy was now filled with a light tension between curiosity and caution, as though each page of the yellow book served as an unseen bridge connecting teacher and student as they both weighed the meaning of each moment unfolding.
'Even if only a little, it is so clearly visible in her eyes.'
"Erietta, don't watch me.
Focus on the Realms that oppose the Realm of Joy and the Realm of Gloom."
The curiosity—small yet undeniable—shone in Erietta's eyes, making Theo pause for a moment before continuing to write.
There was something in her gaze that revealed sincerity and a desire to understand, a subtle impulse that could not be concealed even for a second.
Theo chose not to answer her question directly. Instead, he restrained himself for a moment, allowing Erietta to feel the weight of his unspoken observation.
He then posed a question indirectly, challenging Erietta to reflect on her own reasons for watching him—forcing her to weigh the motivations and curiosity stirring within her.
At that moment, every gesture and movement from Theo became an unspoken instruction—a subtle way of teaching that attention and observation were not merely about looking, but about understanding the essence of what was being observed.
At the same time, Theo emphasized the need for Erietta to understand all the Realms associated with the opposition to the Realm of Joy and the Realm of Gloom.
This instruction did not come as a harsh command, but rather as guidance that pushed Erietta to channel her curiosity into concrete action—to broaden her knowledge and deepen her grasp of the principles she was studying.
"Very well, I will begin this lesson starting tomorrow.
But permit me to ask one thing first, because after thinking about it, I still don't understand."
Fhhhh!
"How could a low-moraled samurai like my teacher—who only chases women and wealth—value scribbles in a strange book more than anything else?"
Erietta nodded quietly, indicating that she understood Theo's second instruction and promising she would begin studying all the Realms opposing the Realm of Joy starting tomorrow.
Even so, her first question continued to linger in her mind, because although she had weighed the cause and effect behind each of Theo's actions, one thing still baffled her.
She could not understand why a samurai who seemed degenerate, who appeared to care only about women and money—a teacher who should be more focused on technique and training—seemed more interested in that yellow book that never left his hand.
That curiosity swelled within her, unspoken, lingering like a faint shadow beneath her calm demeanor as she sat beside her teacher.
Her eyes occasionally glanced at the open page, trying to decipher the meaning behind each stroke, yet the answer never came.
Theo remained absorbed in his writing, seemingly unaware of his student's restlessness, deliberately allowing that curiosity to grow and evolve.
To be continued…