Chương 24: Chapter 23: Jorm's Secret Exit

"Outside?" Elma whispered.

"Is it possible?"

"Yes, I go out all the time," Jorm stated, entirely too casually for a servant confessing to chronic trespassing.

"Isn't that actively neglecting your duties? You have not been granted your scheduled day off yet."

"We will be back in no time," Jorm insisted, leaning in close.

"Hurry up and wear it." Elma turned her gaze away from the maid, staring out the high archway of the window at the pale, silver moon hanging in the night sky. The outside. Why did the mere concept sound so completely irresistible to her? She felt a sudden, deep pull to leave the suffocating stone walls of the estate, even if just for a second. She needed to see that the rest of the world actually existed. Besides, the manor was becoming entirely overcrowded as of late.

"Elmaaa!" Jorm whispered, practically vibrating with anticipation. Elma finally pulled her eyes away from the moon.

"Fine," she said, her voice dropping to a serious, commanding baseline.

"But we are not staying for too long."

"Of course!" Jorm beamed, a wide smile breaking across her face. Elma pulled the dark gray cloak over her small shoulders. It was heavy, but her field carried most of the weight. She pulled the thick hood up, carefully tucking every last strand of her golden hair deep inside the shadows of the cowl. Fully concealed, Elma turned back to Jorm. Her eyes drifted past the maid, landing on the massive pile of extravagant gifts the visiting Lords had left for her.

"You may take whatever you want from those," Elma stated flatly. Jorm physically staggered backward. Her eyes widened in panic, letting out a forced, awkward laugh.

"Hehe... I can't, my lady. Those items are entirely too expensive." Elma tilted her head. Why did she go back to that subservient vocal register?

"I have no use for any of it," Elma countered, crossing her small arms under her new cloak.

"Take it. Or I am not going with you."

"My... Elma..." Jorm stammered. Suddenly, thick, heavy tears welled in the maid's eyes. Jorm lunged forward. She threw her arms tightly around Elma, burying her face into the dark gray fabric of the new cloak and breaking down into loud, messy sobs. Elma froze, her arms pinned to her sides by the maid's desperate hug. She didn't know what to do with her hands. She tried to break free, but Jorm was surprisingly resilient.

Slowly, awkwardly, she let her head drop forward, pressing her forehead lightly against Jorm's warm shoulder.

"You are stupid," Elma mumbled into the fabric. Jorm eventually pulled back, aggressively wiping her tear-streaked face with the back of her sleeve. Sniffling loudly, she pulled a canvas sack from beneath her apron and began frantically shoving several bolts of ultra-fine silk and thick, leather-bound books into it, still actively weeping through the entire process. Elma stood in the center of the room and watched her. Even with her severe emotional illiteracy, Elma knew this was an overreaction.

Jorm's canvas bag was bulging so severely it looked like it was about to burst at the seams. It was now larger than the maid herself. She had taken absolutely everything. Elma watched her struggle to heave the massive sack over her shoulder; she shouldn't have told her to take whatever she wanted. They bypassed the main halls, slipping out through an unlocked window in the kitchen. The moment they hit the grounds, they sprinted through the dense, manicured hedgerows of the estate.

The sensory feedback was highly unpleasant; she could feel the little steps of every single insect that existed in the foliage crawling past the hem of her new cloak. They finally reached the massive, sweeping perimeter of the weeping willow.

"Where is it—" Elma started to ask, turning to Jorm. The heavy, rhythmic crunch of metal-plated boots on gravel instantly cut her off. A patrol was approaching. Before Jorm could let out a panicked gasp, Elma grabbed her and shoved her hard against the thick trunk of the tree. Elma instantly compressed her field, shrinking it down to an undetectable sliver. Then, silently manifested two Water Auxiliaries.

The fluid arms shot upward into the thick canopy, wrapping around the high branches and seamlessly hauling both Elma and Jorm up into the dense, hanging leaves. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. Elma clamped her small hand tightly over Jorm's mouth. The guard stepped under the willow, the yellow light of his lamp casting long, swaying shadows across the grass beneath them. He stepped closer to the trunk and paused, crouching down against the roots.

The lamplight reflected off a small, faintly glowing compass resting in the dirt—it must have tumbled out of Jorm's overstuffed bag during their sprint. Above him, Elma silently shifted the density of her secondary water limb, compressing the tip into a blunt, kinetic bludgeon. She prepared to knock him completely unconscious the absolute millisecond he decided to tilt his head upward.

Instead, the guard simply murmured something under his breath, scooped the glowing compass into his pocket, and continued his patrol, his footsteps crunching away into the dark.

"No..." Jorm whispered mournfully. Elma glanced at her. Jorm looked far more distressed by the loss of the compass than the near capture. Elma finally let out a slow, controlled breath. She released her grip, and Jorm immediately broke away, starving for air as she took deep, desperate gasps.

"He... he wasn't supposed to be on this route right now," Jorm whispered frantically, her chest heaving. Elma looked at her, her eyes narrowing.

"We are fine," Jorm whispered, with a faint, forced chuckle.

"Come on. We need to move before he returns." They descended from the branches and quickly reached the base of the towering outer wall that surrounded the estate. Elma paused. The faint, continuous breeze of cool air brushed her face again. It was something she had always felt by the willow over the past few days. Here, near the wall, it was stronger, more defined, as if whatever caused it was closer to its source. Her eyes still saw only solid, unyielding stone.

"Where is the way?" Elma asked, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. Jorm crouched at the base of the wall, her eyes scanning the dirt until she spotted a small, perfectly smooth white rock half-buried in the grass. She sat next to it, flashing Elma a triumphant smile.

"Look," Jorm said. She extended her arm straight toward the solid masonry. Jorm's hand completely passed through the stone, disappearing up to her wrist.

"What?" Elma's brow furrowed in genuine confusion.

"Try it," Jorm urged. Elma stepped forward. She extended her small hand, her fingertips pressing into the stone. There was no physical resistance. The moment her skin breached the surface, the three-dimensional image of the wall flickered slightly, creating a faint, localized visual distortion. She could feel the cool, unfiltered outside air rushing against her skin. Elma moved her hand around the empty space until her fingers finally grazed the rough, real edge of the stone wall.

The edges were jagged and uneven, as if formed by small tools over time rather than a clean, singular force. She traced the hidden outline; it was a physical breach in the masonry, a ragged hole just large enough for a fully grown person to crawl through on their hands and knees. She continued tracing the top arch of the hole until her fingers brushed against something smooth and metallic. It was a small, flat disk embedded deep into the stone ceiling of the crawlspace.

Elma flattened her palm directly over the disk. The instant she covered it, the false stone projection vanished completely, revealing the dark, gaping hole in the wall. The structural engineering of the device was incredibly advanced. This holographic technology did not originate from Veraxys. She pulled her hand away. The projection instantly returned, hiding the hole behind a flawless image of solid stone.

"Woah," Jorm breathed, her eyes wide.

"Is that what causes it?"

"It appears to be," Elma said softly. Elma turned around, looking back at the massive, sweeping branches of the willow tree swaying in the dark behind them. This was the exact location where she had almost been assassinated. Elma's gaze snapped back to Jorm. Her eyes were sharp, cold, and entirely unblinking.

"Who showed you this?" Jorm instantly looked away, staring hard at the grass in a desperate attempt to avoid Elma's piercing stare. Elma reached into the illusion, placing her hand firmly back over the metal disk.

"If you do not tell me exactly who gave you access to this route, I will shatter this device and bring its remains to Valerius."

"Okay, okay! Please don't!" Jorm panicked, her hands flying up in surrender.

"It was a super important secret! But... one time, my mother was very sick down in the city, and I was desperate to visit her. Rita saw me crying. She took pity on me and showed me this way out." Jorm clasped her hands together, her voice cracking.

"She told me I couldn't tell anyone. Not even the other maids. If they find out, she'll be executed. So please, Elma, do not tell anyone!" Elma stared at the maid in silence.

"I need this," Jorm begged, thick tears threatening to form again. Elma let out a slow breath. She unclenched her hand and pulled it away from the disk, leaving the projection intact.

"Thank you!" Jorm gasped. Before lunging forward and planting a loud kiss on Elma's cheek.

"Come on, we have to keep going!" Jorm dropped to her knees and rolled onto her side, practically diving through the holographic image and disappearing into the outside world. Elma stood frozen for a second, violently wiping her cheek with the back of her sleeve. The maid's explanation replayed itself in her mind. Rita —"Wait." Jorm caught Elma's sleeve before she could follow. Elma stopped, glancing back through the illusion's edge.

"There was actually one other reason I wanted you to come tonight," Jorm said, her voice dropping.

"I couldn't say it back there. Too many ears."

"Explain."

"You remember when I told you the maids saw the boy? Back in the library?" Jorm's grip tightened slightly on the fabric.

"It wasn't just that they saw him. He was following them."

"Following them," Elma repeated.

"Yeah. Rita led a couple of the girls this same way out. They said something trailed them the whole way—through the woods, all the way into the city. Watching from a distance. They lost track of it once they reached the lights." Elma said nothing for a moment.

"Maybe there's something about it out there," Jorm offered, already turning toward the gap in the stone.

"Something that'll make sense of it. I don't know. I just thought you should know before we go." Why would he follow them. The question surfaced and refused to resolve into anything useful. Elma filed it away, unfinished, and followed her student through the illusion into the outside world.