Wayne spoke quickly and soon finished his call with Austin. He believed that after going through the process in his mind, the societal trash would understand the cause and effect.
Then it was time to fight for benefits.
Apart from the Queen minister, everyone has a bright future.
"With so many two-fives, is there really no problem with this country?"
Wayne muttered to himself. After two ambushes on the Moonlight Church, he saw through the true nature of the Magic Department. Liberty Mages had no loyalty to speak of, riddled with internal conflicts, with everyone fighting for their own interests.
Personal interest outweighs national interest. If the price is right, they’d put the Queen on the shelf.
Having seen through the national situation of Windsor, Wayne sighed, suspecting that he alone could change nothing. He decided to join their ranks, taking the dregs and extracting the essence, emerging unsoiled from the mud.
Starting from the societal trash, he progressed steadily, setting the trash of the Magic Department as his target, striving to become another Austin as soon as possible.
He was so eager to progress!
A high-end restaurant, candlelight dinner, French cuisine.
French cuisine is known as the most elegant food in the God-chosen Continent, with a rich cultural flavor and a romantic flair, commanding an unshakable position in Windsor’s culinary world.
Due to eating habits and personal taste, Wayne’s gentility was only skin deep. Being a rough man at heart, he didn’t taste the romance; he only saw the expense and complexity of dining etiquette.
Philomena was the complete opposite, savoring the romance delicately, finding the man across her growing more and more charming.
The young girl cares about a man’s maturity and responsibility; Philomena is not a young girl, her subconscious leans towards men who are a mix of sixty percent maturity and forty percent childishness.
Not too old, as too mature offers no fun and no passion, just dullness that would only age her mindset more.
Not too young either, as too childish like a milk-fed child, all noise and fuss would only irritate her.
Wayne was just right, mature enough to be dependable, childish enough to be laughable, always inadvertently causing ripples in her mood.
It was the vitality of youth.
Embarrassing to say, Philomena felt Wayne shone the brightest when he was on that sofa, forcing himself to wipe night cream on her, pinning her down to change her stockings.
She had to admit that her heart truly raced at that moment.
Such words couldn’t be said out loud, sounding like a pervert and damaging the dignity of the High Priest.
"High Priest, the Magic Department is already preparing compensation. They’ll give you an explanation by tomorrow afternoon at the latest. My thirty percent..."
"Let’s not talk work during dinner."
Philomena glanced at the rose in the glass vase, thinking that in this situation one should compliment looks and demeanor, talking money would ruin the atmosphere.
Wayne followed her gaze to the glass vase now filled with roses, his expression serious, pondering their deeper meaning.
What did it mean, was she expecting him to sacrifice himself for the nation tonight?
Auntie, aren’t you rushing things a little?
Wayne suspected he was overthinking it, the person across probably didn’t mean that. Clearing his throat with a light cough, he clenched a fist, "Mina, you’ve gotten younger and more beautiful in just two hours."
"That’s too perfunctory, try harder."
"That necklace is so white!"
"This one is blue..."
Philomena looked down. For the candlelight dinner, she had gone home to change into an evening dress, revealing an ample bust, not too high and not too low, quite white indeed.
She blew out a breath, taking a sip of red wine to hide her slightly flushed cheeks.
The evening movie was still a private screening, an old romance tale. From future’s perspective, Wayne found the clichéd plot unoriginal.
The only praiseworthy part was that the leads got together in the end, without any icebergs or sinking ships.
Philomena was delighted with the movie. She had a little notebook with regrets she wanted to do before turning thirty, crossing off several the past few days, feeling her life was becoming more fulfilled.
Back at the manor, Wayne was allowed into the main house, switching from the parlor to drinking tea in the High Priest’s bedroom.
Listening to music and sipping tea, the dressing table in front of him was covered with various bottles and jars.
He picked each up, looked at them, and shook his head. Philomena, wearing a bathrobe, emerged from the bathroom and upon seeing this, asked, "You know so much about women, is there something wrong with my cosmetics?"
"Nothing’s wrong with the cosmetics, what’s wrong is you."
Wayne sorted the cosmetics by category, pointing at the skincare and moisturizing products, "These are enough. You’re a Golden Mage, with a powerful Essence of Life. The Wind Element alone can keep you ever youthful, so throw away the rest."
"But they’re very expensive."
Philomena said regretfully, barely used and just opened, it would be such a waste to throw them away.
"You talk as if you’re short on money."
Wayne was temped to throw the cosmetics into the garbage, picking up a bottle and pretending to toss it, seeing that Philomena didn’t stop him, he threw one and then picked up another.
After a few times, with a sweep of his arm, he cleared the table, leaving only some skincare products.
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Philomena’s face showed pain, and she pouted, sitting in front of the makeup mirror, hinting that the helpful tool, Wayne, should apply the night cream with some sensitivity.
Wayne never refused such excessive demands, his fingertips spreading night cream across her swan-like neck, and as the application area expanded, his hands ventured inside the neckline of her bathrobe.
Philomena patted his hand on her chest, warning Wayne not to forget the bet. Some things and some people come with a price once obtained.
Impossible, not taking the initiative and not rejecting means no responsibility; formula solving doesn’t lie.
Despite saying so, Wayne still stayed away from the ridge, pulled a chair over, and sat, lifting up a leg to apply the night cream.
Seeing his obedience, Philomena felt a slight regret. Noticing the suitcase laid by the bed, her eyes lit up: "Your new design?"