Wizard: I Have a Cultivation System

Chapter 415: Chapter 87: A Mortal’s Story

"That won’t be necessary," he said, his voice low. "I don’t need any of that. I’m just tired and want some quiet."

She took a step back, bowing slightly. "Yes, my lord. Please let me know if there’s anything you require. Would you care for a drink, or perhaps some refreshments?"

"Neither," Murphy said. "I just want to rest quietly for a while. The banquet is too noisy."

Rosalyn nodded, her voice remaining perfectly calm. "Would you like to rest in bed, then? I can assist you."

"No, that’s alright. I’ll just sit here for a while."

"Yes, my lord. Please call for me if you need anything." After speaking, Rosalyn quietly retreated into the shadows in a corner of the room. She stood perfectly still, like a lifeless statue, her gaze lowered, almost as if she weren’t there at all.

The room fell silent, the only movement the faint smoke curling up from the incense burner.

Murphy’s gaze rested on the night sky outside the window. After a long moment, he suddenly spoke, his voice piercing the silence. "Do you... enjoy this work?"

The question seemed to catch Rosalyn by surprise.

She stiffened for a moment before answering with almost no hesitation. "It is my honor to serve you, my lord, and the other distinguished guests. It is also a way to draw closer to the teachings of Oriane, by practicing humility and devotion in this mortal world."

Upon hearing her words, Murphy understood.

’Human adaptability is an incredibly powerful thing. Sometimes, to survive in extreme circumstances, the mind will, consciously or unconsciously, distort perception to rationalize one’s situation.’

’This was clearly the case with Rosalyn.’

’She was interpreting her current predicament as a special form of "humility" and "devotion" to maintain some semblance of inner balance—or perhaps just to endure it.’

He sighed softly and said no more.

...

The next morning, Murphy returned to the residence the Church Court had arranged for him.

The courtyard was serene, and morning light spilled through the windows onto the polished floor.

A figure was already waiting as he maneuvered his wheelchair into the living room.

Elizabeth was standing by the window, the morning sun outlining her form in a soft, golden light.

Hearing the sound of the wheelchair, she turned. Her jet-black eyes locked onto Murphy, her expression unreadable. "I will tell Lady Aurora about last night."

Without pausing, Murphy glided his wheelchair to the center of the room. "Mm," he responded calmly.

Elizabeth studied his nonchalant expression, silent for a moment before speaking. "Rosalyn Novik... I’ve heard of her. Eight years ago, she did manage a faint resonance from the Morning Star Bell, but that was it. Later, the Novik Clan apparently met with some misfortune, and she vanished. I never imagined..."

She trailed off, but her meaning was clear.

"She is pitiful," Murphy said, his voice flat, as if stating an objective fact.

A brief silence descended upon the living room.

The chirping of birds outside sounded particularly clear.

After a moment, Elizabeth spoke again. Her voice was lower now, laced with an indescribable emotion, as if she were speaking as much to herself as to Murphy. "I am not Rosalyn."

She paused. "I won’t be... foolish. I won’t entrust my fate to external forces or the pity of others, and I certainly won’t delude myself with such twisted logic."

Murphy looked up to meet her gaze, his tone still even. "I know. And besides, as long as I’m around, you won’t fall into a situation like hers."

Elizabeth’s pupils constricted slightly. "My lord, are you saying... you would do everything in your power to save me? If... if I were to ever face a similar plight?"

Murphy shook his head. "It wouldn’t be a matter of me doing my best. It’s that they would grant me that courtesy."

Elizabeth stared at him, dazed. Then she murmured, "That’s true..."

There was a faint, almost imperceptible note of disappointment in her voice, but she quickly composed herself. A mischievous smile touched her lips. "In that case, during your downtime... my lord, would you accompany me for a stroll?"

Murphy paused, slightly surprised. "A stroll? Aren’t you busy? The grand ceremony is almost here."

"Not at all." Elizabeth shook her head. "All the preparations were finished long ago, and I’m already past the point of being nervous. There’s actually not much to do these next few days besides wait. The Holy City is much livelier than usual because of the festival, with all sorts of markets and performances you don’t normally get to see. I... It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to just walk the streets like a normal person."

Murphy saw a flicker of longing in her eyes and frowned slightly. "But your status... A Saint can’t just wander about so freely. Besides, the streets are crowded, and there are prying eyes everywhere."

"That’s simple enough." A smile touched Elizabeth’s lips.

She raised a hand, her slender fingertips tapping gently against her chest.

In an instant, a soft halo of light emanated from her.

Her jet-black hair rapidly lost its color, starting from the roots, and transformed into a brilliant, pure gold that cascaded softly over her shoulders.

At the same time, the color of her deep, dark eyes began to lighten, eventually settling into a blue as clear as a spring lake.

The changes didn’t stop there.

The coarse, simple Maid’s dress she wore was remade in the halo of light, as if shedding an old skin.

The plain gray fabric was replaced, and a magnificent dress appeared out of thin air—one that perfectly suited the tastes of a young noblewoman from the southern Vilt Kingdom.

The top was a light lavender velvet bodice that accentuated her slender waist, its collar and cuffs intricately embroidered with fine pearls and silver thread.