Card Apprentice Daily Log

Chapter 2539: Lucine’s Three Time Rule Meanings

Date: Unspecified

Time: Unspecified

Location: Myriad Realms, Card World, Central Region, Central Academic City, Morningstar University District, Morningstar University Campus, Garden of Beginning, Time Vestige, Morningstar University 2nd Campus

After listening to everything I said about granting the Southern Princess a seat on the Time Vestige Council, Lucine fell silent. She wasn’t ignoring me—she was thinking it through, weighing my words carefully.

The empty Southern Royal Family seat had been a burden on her mind for centuries now, especially with the growing tension between the Southern Royals and Morningstar University. She didn’t want to be the one under whose leadership a friendship—one that had lasted generations—finally broke. She understood that her duty required her to prioritize Morningstar University above all else, and her ancestors would never blame her for that. But they would surely be disappointed to see a bond they had nurtured for so long fade away.

So Lucine made up her mind quietly: the Southern Princess would get her seat on the Time Vestige Council.

The boy was right. The Southern Princess had proven herself to all Five Regions through her leadership in the Southern Region and her efforts against the impending second demonic invasion. Someone like her should be welcomed into the council with open arms—even if she’d been rejected once before.

This didn’t mean the council had been wrong to reject the Southern Princess back then, nor did it mean she was getting special treatment now because of the boy’s threats. It simply meant that she had grown—far more than anyone expected—forcing the council to reevaluate her worthiness of the seat.

Yes, that was it.

Lucine nodded to herself as she reached this conclusion, convincing herself that adding the Southern Princess to the council was not only reasonable but beneficial. It didn’t signal that the council had lost its way. And even if they had been mistaken in rejecting her before, accepting her now would only prove that the council wasn’t afraid to acknowledge its missteps and correct them.

”Now that I think about it that way, I agree with you,” Lucine said at last. ”I see no reason the Southern Princess shouldn’t claim her ancestors’ seat on the council. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll give it a try.”

In the end, she had agreed to my push—only after thoroughly talking herself into it.

”Not good enough. She will be on the council if the council wants to keep existing. There’s nothing to negotiate,” I said, refusing to give Lucine even an inch. This was something they should’ve handled ages ago without needing me to push them. It felt like someone demanding a tip for doing the job they were already paid to do. And besides, this was my return gift to the Southern Princess. Lucine saying she would ’try’ wasn’t going to cut it.

”Fine, I’ll make it happen. Is that good enough for you? Are you satisfied now? Or is there something else you don’t like?” Lucine snapped, attitude spilling over.

”Yes,” I said. ”I don’t like your tone. You’re acting like I’m forcing you to do something you weren’t already supposed to do.” I flashed her a teasing grin, knowing full well that she understood the council had been in the wrong from the start. Yet here she was, trying to save face by pretending the current Southern Princess had only recently earned the right to be on the council—when, in truth, she’d been worthy since the day she first enrolled in Morningstar University.

”Y-you... weren’t you supposed to treat me or something? Please hurry, I don’t have time to argue with you,” Lucine said, nearly losing her temper. But she swallowed it down—what else could she do? Fight me? Impossible. After seeing the kind of strength I could summon when pushed, she knew that challenging me would be the same as courting death. Argue with me? That was pointless too. I always managed to say something that got under her skin.

”About that,” I said, shifting back to the real issue. ”With this new information, I’ll need to revise the treatment plan I had for you. I need a few more ingredients. I’ve already shared the list with your grimoire—have your people gather everything.”

Lucine blinked, unable to fathom what I just said. ’Are you treating a Celestial disease or a common cold to change your treatment willy-nilly? You sure you are not trying to kill me?’

”And,” I continued, ”it would help if you told me the three time-rule meanings you’ve already comprehended to the ultimate tier and are trying to fuse them into a time rule stream. Only if you don’t mind. If you’d rather not say, forget it. I’ll figure something out on my own.”

Since Lucine couldn’t produce the amount of time-rule power I needed for my original treatment plan, I had no choice but to improvise. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much room to maneuver, so knowing which time-rule meanings she had comprehended might give me the breathing space I needed.

Given what had just happened, I wouldn’t be surprised if she hesitated to share that information with me. But at the same time... knowing her, I also wouldn’t be shocked if she told me anyway. I honestly had no idea why. She was supposed to be good at keeping secrets—like the entire existence of the Time Vestige Council—yet somehow she kept spilling everything to me... including the entire existence of the Time Vestige Council.

”You really are something, aren’t you?” Lucine said, staring at me in disbelief seeing me expect her to share sensitive information about her strength after what I just did? After I used something she told me in confidence about her against her?

”Well,” I said, flashing her my most charming smile, ”you’ve already revealed everything else to me without meaning to... so why stop now?”

”Actually, I did mean to tell you those things, young man,” Lucine said, lifting her chin as if she were about to unveil something profound. ”Because the three time-rule meanings I’ve comprehended are Past Prowler, Parallel Present, and Future Finding.”

She spoke the names as though they alone justified every reckless confession she’d let slip, as though revealing them would suddenly make all her earlier decisions make perfect sense.