C5 Twin Ponytails

The blue-eyed girl said, "Just a moment, please."

Egil, a burly man with a muscular build, took a seat in the pink room, sticking out like a sore thumb amidst the delicate decor.

Soon after, a small door to the side swung open, revealing an automatic entrance. Could this still be considered prehistoric remains? Turning an ancient pyramid into a modern suite seemed almost criminal. Was this really the work of a scholar from the world's leading Willoughby University?

As Egil grappled with the absurdity of the situation, a petite figure approached the opposite side of the coffee table.

A child, here? What was Willoughby University thinking?

Egil glanced up to see a black silk skirt paired with what looked like doll-like legs.

A white coat? Unfortunately, it was sized for a child.

Blonde hair? Yes, but styled into haughty pigtails!

The only thing he'd gotten wrong was the deep V-neck; instead, there was a high-collared, pink sweater under the white coat.

Speechless, Egil stared at the pigtailed girl who appeared to be around eleven or twelve years old, unsure of what to say.

The pigtailed girl plopped down on the sofa across from Egil's coffee table, attempting to cross her legs. Finding them too short, they kept slipping. Annoyed, she opted to sit cross-legged, one hand bracing her knee and the other propping up her chin, exuding the air of a mafia boss.

"So, you're not a professor!" the pigtailed girl exclaimed, her cute, youthful voice contrasting with her mature demeanor.

Egil's mouth hung open in surprise. "Huh? Little sister, who are you?"

The pigtailed girl replied, "Me? I'm Martina. You can call me Mrs. Martina."

"Huh? Mrs. Martina? You?"

Martina nodded, her pigtails swaying.

"You're the person in charge here? At Willoughby University?" Egil inquired.

"I'm the Dean of the Divinity School at Willoughby University's Thirteen Schools," Martina confirmed.

Egil scrutinized Martina once more, his gaze eventually settling on her legs, which dangled above the floor as she sat on the sofa. "Dwarfism?"

Martina's brows furrowed. "If you'd prefer, I could arrange for you to experience that condition, in a very physical way. I'm twelve years old, by the way."

Egil was even more astonished. "A twelve-year-old Dean of Willoughby! Is your dad the President of Vrimen?"

"I was raised in an orphanage," Martina replied.

"So, you're a prodigy," Egil remarked.

"What's with that look?" Martina inquired.

"It just doesn't add up. How could Vrimen produce a genius like you?" Egil questioned.

"What are you implying? Most of the geniuses over the past three hundred years have been from Vrimen!" Martina retorted.

Egil's mouth twisted into a sneer.

Martina, clearly annoyed, countered, "That baseless sense of superiority you Vriudronians have is exactly why people from other countries dislike you!"

Egil's expression of disdain deepened.

It seemed he held the rest of the world in contempt as well! Martina felt increasingly frustrated with the Vriudronian attitude.

"Why would the Divinity School be interested in excavating archaeological sites?" Egil asked.

"Isn't the prehistoric era also known as the Mythological Age?" Martina pointed out.

"Prehistoric era, Mythological Age, prehistoric remains, Mythological Remains, Divinity School... Suddenly, it all seems to make sense!" Egil exclaimed, slapping his thigh. "Next question: what are your plans for them? Those classmates of mine."

"Do you really think I, the Dean, would need to get involved just to separate you from a bunch of bookworms?" Martina said with a twinkle in her eye. "However, if I wanted to invite Professor Egil to join my team, a personal invitation would be appropriate, wouldn't it?"

Egil chuckled. "Firstly, I'm not a professor. I'm a civilian polar pilot. And secondly, you're misreading my expression!"

Martina leaned in, fixing her gaze on Egil's eyes. "Besides the annoyance of your disdain, what else is there?"

"Exactly, disdain! Haha, so what do you think? Do you still believe I'd join your team?" Egil said with a laugh.

Martina hopped off the sofa, retrieved a stack of documents from beneath the coffee table, tossed them onto the surface, and then settled back onto the sofa.

"You will," she responded.

Egil sifted through the documents, all detailing records of underground excavation projects. Among them were photographs, including commemorative shots of ancient buildings unearthed and brought back to the light of day, as well as images documenting the injuries and fatalities from construction accidents.

Martina remarked, "There's still so much of the prehistoric remains to be uncovered. I've heard that all Vriudronians are skilled in kung fu, and Azure Dragon Garden even offers a selection of kung fu electives. The students you've brought must be quite formidable! Not like our Vrimen workers who can't even run to safety in the event of a collapse."

With a thud, Egil dropped the documents onto the coffee table. "Are you threatening me? Using the elite of Azure Dragon Garden to intimidate me, a washed-up driver living off a pension?"

"Crippled?... Retired?..." Martina's expression shifted from surprise to a wistful look, then settled into something ineffable. This complex array of emotions seemed out of place on her twelve-year-old, slightly cherubic face, creating a strong sense of dissonance.

"So you're truly not a professor!" Martina sighed. "Retired... a Vriudronian soldier? No, with your capabilities... a blank slate?"

At the mention of 'blank slate,' Egil reacted as if provoked, abruptly standing from the sofa. "Silence! Young lady! Since you're aware of what I'm capable of, at this distance, I could end your life in a heartbeat!"

Martina's twin ponytails swayed as she pulled a handgun from behind a sofa cushion. "Your abilities won't kill me, not at this stage, not in the face of this gun."

Egil slumped back onto the sofa, regaining his composure, though his mind was riddled with doubt.

She hadn't known I was a soldier before, mistaking me for a professor. But now, she seems to understand my abilities all too well. What's going on here? It's utterly bizarre!

"Fine, I'll add one more condition," Martina said, extracting a document from the pile on the coffee table.

It was an excavation log, filled with dense data and technical jargon. Egil's attention was drawn to a photograph within the report, enlarged to the size of an A4 sheet.

In the photo, there was a stone door set into the rocky wall of a karst cave, half-submerged in the sea. Next to it lay a corpse dressed like Rapper Mark, clutching a gun, but tragically, only the upper half of the body remained. The lower abdomen and legs were nowhere to be seen.

It was a laceration! Egil squinted his eyes.

Martina spoke, "Consider me hiring you on a temporary basis! Your job is to protect the civilians and the Willoughby researchers, and to confront only the hazards within the ruins. As for other forces, particularly those from Vriudron, you're under no obligation to engage."

Egil remained silent.

After a deep breath, Egil finally said, "I have one condition."

A look of delight crossed Martina's face. "Let's hear it!"

Egil stated, "Allow Merle and Ivar to be involved in the research of the ruins... They shouldn't have come all this way for nothing!"