Fortunately, this farce hadn’t been discovered by anyone else. Helena was still fast asleep, with drool trickling from the corner of her mouth, already dripping down onto her thigh.
The other students were busy chatting with their own little circles and paid no attention to anything else.
Hill tidied up the things on her desk, then prepared to wake up the little sleepy cat, Helena.
In a short while, it would be time to go to the cafeteria for the Holy Communion. Before that, all the students had to tidy up their appearance—a disheveled fellow would never be allowed to enter.
Being stopped outside was quite humiliating, and in no time, such a story would spread throughout the entire academy.
Hill glanced at the red mark on Helena’s face; it would probably take at least half an hour to fade.
“You are Hill Hamill?”
A voice, both familiar and strange, sounded beside her ear. Hill turned to look and saw several youthful and striking faces coming into view. They were all handsome men and beautiful women, and although they wore identical academy uniforms, the ornaments they wore made it obvious they weren’t ordinary.
The speaker was a young man, with flamboyant golden hair and sapphire-blue eyes—all signs of noble birth. His ancestors must have included at least a Sequence Ⅲ Transcendent.
Hill vaguely remembered this guy’s name. Was it Roger… something?
Noble surnames were always such a mouthful and hard to remember.
“You are Hill Hamill?”
Roger frowned and asked again, while the group of female companions at his side, following him like shadows, looked just as impatient.
“Master Roger is speaking to you! Why aren’t you saying anything, are you mute or something?”
“Tch, just a little magical talent and she’s already so arrogant. I really don’t know why Instructor Inks would take a liking to someone like you.”
A familiar scene, though their attitude was already considered quite polite. After all, this was the academy, with so many eyes watching. She wouldn’t dare make a fool of herself, or she’d never be able to hold her head up in high society.
Hill maintained her lady-like smile. “I’m just a little curious, Master Roger—why would you suddenly come looking for an unknown nobody like me? As the young lady says, I’m just an ordinary person with a bit of magical talent.”
“As long as you understand.” The girl, clearly just a follower though herself of noble birth, replied.
Roger raised his hand, signaling for the foolish girls behind him to stop speaking so freely. He cleared his throat, and with the characteristically warm and gentle smile of a noble, said, “During the Holy Communion later, would Miss Hamill be willing to share a table with me?”
Hill raised her eyebrows slightly. She had originally thought this fellow was here to threaten her, but he’d actually come to hit on her.
Well, nobles always cared about their reputation. Only hot-blooded fools would do something as stupid as making threats.
By contrast, inviting a lady to dine together was actually a rather elegant and gentlemanly move.
Unfortunately…
“Sorry, dear Master Roger.” Before Hill could speak, Otis, having come to her senses, had already warily taken Hill’s arm.
That soft, boneless feeling, like grabbing a handful of cotton—Otis pressed down the strange emotions in her heart, doing her best to appear tough. “Miss Hamill is already a valued guest of the Montbatten family. Yesterday, my mother personally welcomed her and gave a gift to celebrate the friendship between the two of us.”
The unspoken meaning: Hill is mine, don’t even think about her—you’d best stay far, far away!
Worthy of being a noble—such tactful words. Apart from the tone, you couldn’t even tell if she was insulting or complimenting someone.
Roger’s smile didn’t look quite as natural as before. He had thought that, as Otis was Hill’s regular friend, she might make her move quickly, but he hadn’t expected that in just one day, she’d already brought Hill to meet her parents!
If Hill really accepted that gift, then she was already connected to the Montbatten family. Trying to win her over now would be extremely difficult.
He had hoped, considering Hill’s magical talent, to bring her into his own little circle. Who knew, she might become a promising Transcendent in the future—no harm in making friends. Besides, the Hamill family was already gone; how could a powerless girl resist a family at the height of its power?
“So that’s how it is. Forgive my rudeness, dear young lady.”
There was no telling what Roger was thinking from his expression. At such a young age, he’d already mastered the art of keeping his composure in any situation.
Soon, he took his little entourage and left.
Once that annoying fellow was gone, Otis turned to look seriously at Hill. “If you run into things like this in the future, you need to know how to refuse, understand? You’re already… a valued guest of the Montbatten family.”
Otis nearly bit her tongue in her agitation. Normally, when practicing Elvish pronunciation, this worked perfectly—so why had she almost blurted out “You’re already mine”?
She knew exactly how ambiguous those words sounded.
A noble with a sense of humor was certainly more likable, but such humor didn’t belong on an elegant young lady. Others might see it as frivolous.
Even if they were both women!
After all, little things between two women weren’t exactly a secret in high society.
Hill smiled gently. “Of course, I understand.”
“G-good.” Otis’s cheeks flushed, and she realized she was still holding tightly to Hill’s hand. Embarrassed, she let go as if shocked.
Hill looked at the bashful Otis, feeling rather delighted. One of her pleasures was seeing a usually reserved girl become frank and honest under her gentle teasing.
“What are you two chatting about?” Lively, adorable Helena had woken up at some point. Now there was a red mark on her soft, round cheek. Judging by the shape, it was probably from the button on her uniform cuff.
“Nothing.” Hill, acting on instinct without Otis’s prompting, concealed the fact that she was Otis’s family tutor from Helena.
She reached out and pinched Helena’s wonderfully soft cheek, saying gently, “Instead of worrying about this, your top priority now is to get rid of that mark on your face. Otherwise, Auntie Nun at the cafeteria door probably won’t let you in.”
The academy’s cafeteria was managed by priests and nuns from the Church of Abundance. As followers of the Goddess of Abundance, they detested wasting food, which was why you’d see them in so many of the town’s public institutions.
“Ah!” As expected, Helena let out a little scream and touched her face, sighing in disappointment. “Why is there still a mark? I was so careful not to touch that button! I should’ve just taken it off.”
Hill continued pinching the soft flesh of Helena’s face, grinning, “Even if you take the button off, you still won’t be allowed in.”
“These rules are so annoying…”
As a merchant’s daughter, Helena’s upbringing was naturally different from that of the nobility. These rules about maintaining one’s appearance at all times drove her crazy. There was a time when she was a regular at the cafeteria’s punishment stand, until diligent Otis became her friend and helped her break that streak.
Carefree academy days—apart from the Holy Communion, which Hill found hard to swallow—were, for the most part, rather enjoyable.
Time quickly passed, and in the blink of an eye, the weekend arrived.
Hill had intended to sleep in, the kind of day where she could stay in bed for a whole day and night without moving at all. The sleeping posture of a vampire was truly restful, because they simply didn’t move. While asleep, their breathing would become extremely shallow, their body temperature would drop, and their heartbeat would be barely audible.
It looked just like a corpse—such was the trait of a vampire.
The sound of hooves outside reminded her that she was supposed to visit the Montbatten family today.
She quickly got up, washed up simply, and changed into the only presentable outfit she had—yes, her academy-issued uniform.
After thinking for a moment, she dug out the silver brooch from the depths of her drawer and carefully pinned it on.
Goddess bless her, she sincerely hoped the brooch wouldn’t prick her skin. Though the injury wouldn’t be as severe as a wound from the sheriff’s silver bullets, it would still be painful, and the wound would be slow to heal.
Once she was ready, the beautiful, youthful girl walked out the door with a spring in her step, carrying a small, dainty bag.
Sure enough, a carriage was waiting outside. The young and energetic coachman spotted Hill and greeted her enthusiastically. “Good morning, Miss Hamill. By order of Madam and the young lady, I’ve come to escort you to the Montbatten estate.”
Hill performed an elegant curtsy, thanking the hardworking young man for coming all this way to fetch her, and then climbed into the carriage.
As the whip cracked through the air, the brown stallion neighed loudly and pulled the carriage slowly toward the town center.