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The class was dismissed and everyone went their way, except for Jean who remained in place for a while, silently chewing on her lips with a faint conflicted expression flashing forming on her face.

'Maybe another time?' She concluded unassuredly. Mister Larks had forgotten about the appointed discussion amidst the hectic naming debate. She wanted to remind him once again but held back her tongue at the last minute because she was worried. Fear was brewing inside of her.

#Pathetic wimp!#

*Stop agitating her!*

#Shut up!#

Jean shook her head to silence the voices assaulting her mind. She exhaled a troubled breath and lamented silently. She'd taken a large step forward, but things were starting to regress. She was scared, but she didn't know how to bring it up in front of Mister Larks. She empathised with his decision to create a Sect, but she also didn't want to disappoint him by being a hindrance.

'What do I do?' She sighed. Amidst her anguish, the voices started to pick up steam once again. She had to spend a more significant portion of her consciousness to appease them both. As she did so, she entered a preoccupied trance and her body ran on autopilot. She walked, and walked, and walked onwards, uncaring of where her feet took her. She continued moving at a steady and mechanical pace until suddenly, a myriad of familiar fragrances stormed her senses.

Unwittingly, through some form of subconscious muscle memory, she found herself in the garden Grace tended to by the spring.

Jean bent down and inspected the flowers that were blooming in a systematic grid with a gentle touch. Everything was in perfect order, growing as well as it could, given the limitations Grace had to work with.

"You're in late?" Grace's voice commented from behind her. Jean jolted her neck and addressed the garden's owner and caretaker with as sincere of a smile as her face could muster. Jean then acknowledged Grace's question with pursed lips and an inattentive nod. It was close to sunset - Jean didn't usually visit the gardens during this part of the day. She mostly frequented the gardens early in the morning.

"If you're here now, it means something's bothering you," Grace deduced accurately. Once again, Jean was completely floored. There weren't that many people in this world who could read her so easily like a book, especially after her treatment. In fact, she could count the number of people with just one hand- no- just two fingers. The first, of course, was her teacher, Mister Larks. The second, surprisingly, was Matron Reva.

Grace noticed Jean's eyes faltering and her lips moving up and down. Whatever the girl was struggling with, was something she found difficult to vocalise. No matter, "Help me survey the garden first. Tell me what's on your mind after. Okay?"

Jean nodded and moved to assist Grace as they transitioned from one plant to the other. Something Jean learned through her interaction with Grace was that the woman was uncannily learned in botany with both the mundane and magically charged plants. There were a few plants in the garden like the Bluegleam Fungus, which required highly specific mana dense and damp environments to grow, but were surprisingly thriving. Jean knew for a fact that it was difficult to grow these without one being a mage themselves and having access to extremely specific soil conditions. But Grace had ingeniously used the nature of other plants growing in its vicinity to her advantage. The fungi were cultivated in an indentation of a tree with Sweltering Moss growing around it, which is known to agitate the plants it grows on and discharges the water stored within them to create an extremely humid ambience. The tree was also hosting the notorious Sanguineous Creeper, which is known to consume blood to generate highly potent mana that is stored within its vines for an extremely long period. None of these was naturally found in this part of the forest, which meant that Grace had transplanted them here. To be able to then maintain these plants in such a bounteous state without being a mage definitely raised Jean's respect for the woman.

"That's the last of it!" Grace declared with a satisfied grunt while clapping her hands to dislodge as much dirt as possible. "Come, let's wash our hands. Dora made some soap with a sandalwood infusion. I don't know how Guy got his hands on such expensive materials, but damn is it worth it!"

Grace waved a soap bar which she retrieved from her satchel hanging over her shoulders and called Jean over to the spring.

"Hmmm! Smells divine," Grace commended while taking in a deep breath from her cupped hands as the duo walked back to the orphanage.

"Now, tell me. What's eating at you?" Grace asked casually.

"I'm just scared," Jean answered without hesitation. After settling her apprehension through the mundaneness of tending the plants, her mind was sufficiently unburdened and open to sharing.

"Why?" Grace retorted with a mild frown laced with concern.

"Mister Larks is planning to create his own sect. He's calling it the True World Sect," Jean started. "It's great! I agree with his vision and goals, they are admirable, but..."

"But?"

Jean slowed her steps and lowered her gaze to the ground. Noticing a loose stone, she raised her leg and kicked it hard - with all of her mana concentrated on it. Like a wild stallion released from its reins, the stone burst forward with unparalleled vigour. "But, I'm worried that there won't be any place for me there. I'm scared that I will no longer be able to learn under Mister Larks, with Senior Brother and Big Sis. I'm terrified that I will be all alone again, left to my thoughts."

Though her face remained unperturbed, Grace could feel the unshackled sorrow laced within those words. The girl was visible shaking, trying her hardest to release her pent-up emotions but failing miserably at it. Grace stepped towards her trembling form and gently cradled the girl's head into her welcoming bosom. With another hand, she patted Jean's back.

"It's okay," Grace murmured with a warm purr. "Let it out. Let it all out."

A tense few seconds passed before - just like a pressure cooker releasing its accumulated steam - a long cathartic exhale escaped from Jean's mouth and nose.

"A Sect is a Mercenary Corp at heart," Jean said with a low whimper. "That's how they function and make their money. But Matron Reva, I don't want to hurt anyone! I just can't do it. But I don't want to be kicked out because I cannot contribute to the Sect."

"Is that what you're worried about?" Grace asked in disbelief as she pulled the girl away from the embrace by her shoulder. Grace looked deep into Jean's forlorn eyes and restated, "You're worried that just because you aren't a brute who hurts other people, Guy will discard you from the Sect?"

Jean produced an imperceptible nod to which Grace scoffed and asked, "Do you think Guy would do that? Do you REALLY think he's that kind of a guy?"

Jean hesitated, eliciting a stern reprimand from Grace, "I'm disappointed that you still haven't comprehended what kind of a person your teacher is after studying under them for over a year."

"But Mister Larks HAS changed," Jean responded. She went on to explain how Guy's application cases and lessons had taken a more aggressive turn.

"It's about time he did that," Grace commented, much to Jean's surprise. "He's learned that the world isn't so breezy as he'd thought it to be. Besides, Jean, people never change, they only grow. Take a look at this sapling here," Grace pointed at the subject a few metres away from the path.

"It's sprouted in that location, it can't do anything else but grow there. Though, as it grows taller and wider, it can deviate in its trajectory to seek out the most abundant source of nutrition and greatest access to sunlight. Yet, it can never uproot itself and find new ground to call its home. Humans are just like that. When you scrape off all the surrounding layers, dig deeper, you will find out that our core character never changes," Grace returned her gaze to Jean and playfully rubbed the girl's head. "Guy's still the same. He's just grown."

With that, Grace picked up her steps and walked towards the orphanage. As she did so, she paused and threw out a final line of advice, "Don't think for a second that you aren't of any use, Jean."

Grace retrieved the dried soap bar from her satchel and waved it around, "You have so much stuck inside your head that's just waiting to jump out."

Jean revealed a rare, faint smile as she observed Grace's confident figure skipping down the path to the orphanage. The words Matron Reva told her resonated inside her head, lulling the arguing voices to a silent halt. Her face formed a resolute expression as she trudged along. She continued without pause or hesitation until she arrived outside Mister Larks' bedroom door. She exhaled and knocked on his door mechanically.

"Jean? Come in," Guy welcomed from inside.

Right as Jean entered, Guy reminded, "Please leave the door open. Sit, sit!"

"Now tell me, what's up?"

Jean looked directly into Mister Larks' eyes and noticed the same gaze that welcomed her into his tutelage a year back. Maybe things did change around here - Teacher Larks became Mister Larks - but just like Matron Reva said, the man within hadn't changed. Now, without procrastinating any further, Jean opened her mouth and explained her concerns.