Time returned to the present.
Flat leaned against the desk, casting his gaze down at Olga Marie.
"What do I want to do? I don't really want to do anything."
"I just felt like Miss Olga Marie needed help, so I helped."
"Help me?" Olga Marie raised an eyebrow. "Your reason?"
"Because you needed help," Flat said. "And you're Miss Olga Marie. Even if you're the Servant version, rounding it up makes you an acquaintance!"
"That's not how rounding works."
"Eh? It's not?"
"No."
"Then how should I use it?"
"...Now is not the time to discuss this."
Olga Marie pressed her temples.
Conversing with this fellow always left her with a sense of powerlessness, like punching cotton.
Olga Marie stared into those blue eyes that were so clean they were almost transparent, gave a tch, and looked away.
"Forget it."
She leaned back into the chair again. "It doesn't matter."
"Tell me about 'the other me' you saw at the Clock Tower. I'm somewhat interested."
"Mm-hm! It was just at last week's lecture!" Flat nodded vigorously. "Miss Olga Marie was sitting in the front row, her expression super serious! She even glared at me because I was late."
"Halfway through the class, I finally remembered that I didn't actually have that course, hehe."
As he spoke, he rubbed the back of his head, a hint of embarrassment coloring his smile.
Olga Marie didn't respond.
She leaned back, her fingers unconsciously tapping the armrest.
After a moment, she spoke:
"That me... what kind of person was she?"
The question was somewhat abrupt.
Flat was stunned for a moment, tilted his head in thought, and then said:
"Very serious, very talented, but she just seemed a bit... tense?"
He chose a relatively tactful word. "Always frowning, as if she had a lot of things to worry about. She walked fast, talked fast, and was very strict."
"She's not quite like you."
Olga Marie gave a snort.
"Of course we're different."
She raised her hand, palm up, and slowly curled her fingers closed.
"She is merely human. I am an existence destined to rule this planet. The levels between us are far too different."
That sense of entitlement made Flat unable to hold back a laugh.
"President, huh..."
He repeated the word. "So, Miss Olga Marie—I mean, the Servant version of you—are you really the President of the Earth?"
"Naturally." Olga Marie raised her chin. "The genuine article."
"Then what does a President have to do?"
"Manage humanity. Do you really need to ask such basic things?"
"Specifically? For example, what are you going to do today?"
"Today?" Olga Marie was caught off guard by the question.
She said matter-of-factly, "Today I'll rest first and recover my strength. I'll start working tomorrow."
"Then what specifically will you do tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow... I'll decide tomorrow."
Flat burst out laughing.
Olga Marie glared at him. "What are you laughing at?"
"Nothing, nothing." Flat waved his hand, though his shoulders were still shaking. "I just feel... Miss Olga Marie is still Miss Olga Marie after all."
"What do you mean by that?"
"It's that 'details to be added' sort of feeling."
Olga Marie was stifled.
She opened her mouth to refute him, but found she actually couldn't.
In the end, she could only give a resentful huff and turn her face away.
A few more seconds of silence passed.
Flat finished his cola in two or three gulps, tossed the empty can into the trash bin in the corner, and clapped his hands.
"Then Miss Olga Marie, you should rest first. I'll go downstairs and get another room."
"I can't exactly have you squeeze in here with me, right?"
Olga Marie gave an "mhm."
She looked out the window, the shadows of her eyelashes falling across her cheeks.
Flat walked to the door and placed his hand on the knob.
"Do you need me to bring you anything to eat? Or drink?"
"No."
"Then... what about a Mana Transfer? Do you need me to provide Magical Energy?"
"No to that as well. I don't need a Master. Don't go harboring any improper little thoughts."
"Oh, alright."
Flat shrugged and pulled the door open.
"I'm off then."
The door was gently closed.
It wasn't until the sound of footsteps vanished in the corridor that Olga Marie finally let out a long sigh.
Her shoulders slumped, and she collapsed into the chair as if suddenly drained of all strength.
"I'm exhausted..."
She grumbled in a low voice, raising a hand to rub her temples.
Talking to Flat was more tiring than fighting a battle.
That guy's thoughts jumped around without any pattern; you could never guess what kind of bizarre question he'd ask in the next second.
She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them.
"I need at least three days..."
She estimated her recovery time. "Within three days, I can't fight with full strength, and I can't use Magical Energy on a large scale..."
Thinking of those two Beams that had nearly torn the world apart made Olga Marie's stomach ache.
How could she be this unlucky—starting the game with combat damage.
She had even forgotten what the mission was; she had to wait until she recovered. Sigh.
"Forget it."
She shook her head, tossing those stray thoughts aside.
The priority was to recover her strength.
As for Flat...
She narrowed her eyes.
That fellow definitely had a problem.
He could see through her status as a Servant at a glance, modify a Saint Graph with his bare hands, and get back up as if nothing happened after being kicked away by her.
This was absolutely not something an ordinary magus could achieve.
"A student from the Clock Tower..."
She repeated the title in a low voice, the corner of her mouth twitching.
"Are students these days all this terrifying?"
Olga Marie leaned back into the chair and closed her eyes.
Drawing Magical Energy from the Ley Line, she mended the cracks bit by bit.
Meanwhile.
Flat didn't leave immediately after exiting the room. Instead, he stood by the door for a few seconds, listening for any movement inside.
He waited until the flow of Magical Energy had clearly changed before humming a tuneless melody and turning toward the elevator.
The elevator descended to the first floor.
There was no one at the front desk; they were likely off eating breakfast.
Flat walked to the sofa area in the corner of the lobby, chose a single sofa by the window, and pulled his phone from his pocket.
The screen lit up, displaying the time: 7:43 AM.
He swiped to unlock it, opened his contacts, and scrolled through the screen until his finger stopped on a name:
[Mr. Lord El-Melloi II]
He hesitated for a moment but pressed the call button anyway.