Wizard: I Have a Cultivation System-Chapter 113 - 107: Me and the Flying Bird

"Baron Sylvan."

Margaret’s cool voice rang out in the corridor. Her tone had now returned to the reserved dignity of a princess.

Murphy heard her and reacted at once, quickly striding away.

Margaret watched his retreating back, her fingertips lightly brushing her lips as she whispered, "Sylvan... Master... How interesting." She elegantly smoothed the creases of her skirt, a cunning glint in her eyes. ’But for now, I must go and complete the task my master has given me.’

...

Murphy stood outside Aurora’s door, uncharacteristically hesitant.

Just as he was wavering, his ears twitched, catching the faint sounds of movement from within the room.

A moment later, the door opened from the inside.

Aurora appeared behind the door. She had woven her long, golden hair into a loose braid that draped over her shoulder.

She wore a light purple chiffon gown, its sheer fabric embroidered with delicate violet patterns that fluttered gently with her every move.

On her legs, she wore black silk stockings similar to Margaret’s, and on her feet were a pair of soft, silver flats. Her entire presence exuded a fresh and natural aura.

Murphy opened his mouth but didn’t know where to begin.

"Brother, since you’re here, why don’t you come in?" Aurora gave him a radiant smile and naturally took his hand, leading him into the room. "Come on in."

"Aurora..." Murphy started to speak, then hesitated.

"Brother, look at this." Aurora picked up an exceptionally exquisite silver music box from her vanity and gently opened the lid.

As a clear, pleasant melody began to play, a pair of small figurines in traditional attire started to spin and dance elegantly.

A look of surprise flashed in Murphy’s eyes. "Is this... the music box I made for you all those years ago?"

Aurora nodded lightly, her eyes filled with a nostalgic tenderness. "Brother, do you remember? Back then, you spent all your time in the workshop doing your research, but you still found a moment to make this for me. You said that as long as I listened to its music, I would feel happy, and all my worries would fade away with the melody."

Murphy gazed at the dancing figurines in the music box as memories of the past flooded his mind.

At the time, he had been trying to improve the manufacturing process for electronic tubes and found it a bit annoying that Aurora was always peeking into his workshop. So, he had casually made this music box to keep her occupied.

With his level of precision machining, creating such an intricate mechanical device was as easy as lifting a finger.

"I didn’t think you’d still have this." His voice softened unconsciously.

Aurora took a step closer and looked up at him. "This was the first gift you ever gave me, Brother. How could I ever bear to throw it away?"

Murphy shook his head slightly. "It wasn’t the first one, was it? I remember giving you..."

"No, it was the first," Aurora interrupted. "Just like how you used to turn your nose up at any cake that I didn’t bake myself."

"It’s not that I disliked them," Murphy explained. "I just..."

"I know," Aurora chuckled. "You were just a bit embarrassed. As the Lord’s older brother, you couldn’t quite let go of your pride when your cute, pretty little sister tried to feed you."

Murphy said her name softly, "Aurora..."

Aurora gently placed the music box on the vanity and began to dance gracefully to its clear, melodious tune.

The light purple chiffon gown bloomed like a flower with her spins, the violet embroidery on its hem flickering in and out of sight in the candlelight.

She extended her arms and rose gracefully onto her toes, the black stockings outlining the smooth lines of her legs.

Her golden braid drew a beautiful arc through the air, each note of the melody perfectly matching her steps.

Murphy watched her quietly, saying nothing, doing nothing.

Lost in the dance, Aurora was breathing lightly, her cheeks flushed, yet she maintained her perfect form.

As the music drew to a close, she finished with an elegant curtsy. When she lifted her head, her eyes glistened with unshed tears, but she quickly broke into a bright smile, as if that fleeting shimmer had never been there at all.

"Brother, my feet are tired," Aurora said softly, naturally walking over to the bed and sitting down. "Will you rub them for me?"

Murphy silently fetched a low stool and sat down in front of Aurora.

He carefully lifted her ankle and skillfully removed her silver flat.

Through the fine black silk stockings, he could feel the elegant curve of her foot.

"It’s a little sore here." Aurora lightly tapped the arch of her foot.

Murphy did as she asked, gently pressing the spot with his thumb, the pressure just right.

"And my ankle," Aurora said, wiggling her toes slightly. "I think I twisted it a little while spinning."

His palm held her ankle steady as his other hand began to massage it slowly.

The warmth from his fingertips seeped through the silk, causing Aurora to unconsciously relax.

"Brother, your technique is still as good as ever," she sighed softly, her gaze gentle as she watched his downturned profile.

Murphy didn’t look up, merely continuing his work. "After your dance lessons when you were little, you always wanted this."

"That’s because you were here, Brother," Aurora said with a sweet smile, then suddenly drew a sharp breath. "Ah, my toes hurt a little too."

He immediately adjusted his grip and carefully massaged her slender toes.

"That’s much better now." Aurora sighed in satisfaction, leaning back slightly and supporting herself with her hands on the edge of the bed. "I remember when I was little, you would always massage my feet like this after my dance practice."

Murphy’s fingertips paused for a fraction of a second before resuming their gentle movements.

The burgeoning morning light filtered through the sheer curtains, dancing on Aurora’s golden hair and seeming to bathe her in a holy halo.

Aurora hummed the melody from the music box softly, her toes curling unconsciously in Murphy’s palm.

"There," Murphy said after a long while, gently setting her foot down. "It shouldn’t hurt anymore."

But Aurora playfully extended her other foot. "This one too."

Murphy shook his head with a helpless sigh, but still obediently began to massage her other foot.

After much deliberation, Murphy finally spoke. "Aurora, there’s something I want to tell you. About Princess Margaret... The truth is, I only did it for the sake of the domain..."

"Brother," Aurora interrupted him softly, her gentle gaze still resting on his focused profile. "Do you know why I was always so clingy when we were little?"

Murphy’s fingers gently pressed her ankle as he asked without looking up, "Why?"

Aurora’s gaze drifted to the brightening sky outside the window, her voice soft with reminiscence. "Because you’re a bird. A bird in the distant sky."

Feeling the warmth from his hands on her ankle, she continued her story in a low voice. "I remember when I was very little, I loved to just stare at the blue sky. One time, I pointed at the sky and told Martha that I wanted to fly up there. Martha told me I wasn’t a bird, so how could I fly? I wouldn’t accept that and stubbornly insisted that I *was* a bird and I could definitely fly. So Martha had to humor me and say, ’Yes, My Lady, you are a little bird.’"

Aurora’s voice carried a faint melancholy. "But even then, I understood. I wasn’t a bird. I could never fly up into that blue sky."

Her gaze returned to Murphy, growing exceptionally gentle. "But then I saw you, Brother. From the first moment I saw you, I knew. You had to be a bird, a bird from the heavens. You were so close to me, and yet always so far away."

Murphy’s massaging hands slowed unconsciously.

"I asked Mother why you were always alone, why you looked so lonely. Mother said you weren’t in a good mood, and that I should try to get closer to you." Aurora’s voice was soft as she recounted a long-held secret. "And so, a naive idea popped into my head—I was going to catch you, Brother. If I could just catch you, you wouldn’t be lonely anymore. You wouldn’t want to fly away like a bird, right?"

At this, Aurora shook her head gently, her golden hair swaying in the morning light. "But I was wrong. As we grew older, you only got farther and farther away from me, as if you might spread your wings and fly away at any moment."

Murphy’s hands stopped completely, and he looked up at her.

"Until my eighteenth birthday," Aurora’s voice trembled slightly, "I thought I had finally caught you, Brother. But then I realized I had been wrong all along. You were still so far away from me, so far that I couldn’t even see you clearly."

"Aurora..." Murphy whispered, a complex emotion flashing in his eyes.

"I understood then," Aurora cut him off, revealing a smile of relief. "You are a bird, Brother. That’s an unchangeable fact. Just as I can’t fly into the blue sky, I shouldn’t have dreamed of holding onto you forever."

She leaned forward and gently took Murphy’s hand, her eyes clear and firm. "So, Brother, just fly. Fly without any worries. Your little sister is someone who will wait for you here, not someone who wants to catch you."

Murphy stared into Aurora’s smiling eyes, seeing nothing but his own reflection in her azure pupils.

He gently squeezed her hand in return. After a long moment, he said in a low voice, "Thank you, Aurora."

Aurora gave a radiant smile, sat up straight again, and placed her foot back on his lap. "You’re not finished with this one yet, Brother."

Murphy lowered his head.

Aurora burst out laughing, the sound as crisp as a silver bell, rippling gently in the morning light.

She instinctively tried to pull her foot back, but Murphy held it gently.

Sunlight gradually filled the entire room, enveloping their figures within its warm glow.