“Freya Christo Dale! Look at what you’ve done!”
His voice was intentionally lowered, yet it trembled with a distinct rage that sounded particularly piercing in the elegant banquet hall.
Amidst the melodious music and the mingling of high society, his outburst drew the attention of many nearby guests.
“Leaving the Academy without permission, hiding at your grandfather’s house, and even ignoring your father’s summons!”
Earl Hezdi’s chest heaved, clearly incensed.
“And now, you are publicly behaving with such impropriety and recklessness at a Royal Banquet — in front of His Highness the Crown Prince! Do you have no respect for your family? Do you have no regard for the rules?!”
His gaze stabbed sharply at Lyra, who stood slightly behind Freya, filled with unmasked scrutiny and disgust.
“Furthermore, what is the meaning of this unrefined wild girl of unknown origin? I heard you’ve been keeping her by your side and even brought her into the Academy! Freya, do you have any idea what people are saying out there? Just what do you think you are doing?!”
Lyra, who had finally begun to relax, tensed up once more.
Her crimson eyes narrowed dangerously as she stared at Earl Hezdi, looking at him as if he were an enemy who might pounce at any second.
Her fingers twitched slightly at her side as if she were calculating exactly where to strike to make this noisy old man shut up the fastest without causing too much trouble for Freya.
Freya, however, merely watched her enraged father in silence.
The knuckles of her hand gripping her teacup turned slightly white, but her face remained as still as a frozen pond.
In her past life, her father had criticized her like this in public before.
Back then, she had felt nothing but humiliation, grievance, and a desperate urge to explain herself.
Now, her heart was nothing more than a frozen lake, with the disappointments and cold realizations of her previous life settled deep at the bottom.
“Father,” she said.
Her voice was calm, almost indifferent, forming a sharp contrast to Hezdi’s agitation.
“I left the Academy because I was unwell, and I have a physician’s certificate to prove it. I went to my grandfather’s because it was more suitable for recuperation, and I had the Academy’s permission. My failure to reply to your letters in a timely manner was an oversight, and I will explain that to you later.”
She dismantled Hezdi’s accusations one by one, her logic clear and her tone as flat as if she were recounting someone else’s business.
“As for Lyra — “
Freya shifted half a step sideways, placing Lyra more fully in Hezdi’s line of sight while simultaneously blocking Lyra’s potentially overt hostility.
“She is a private assistant I personally selected and hired. Her paperwork is in order, and her abilities are more than sufficient to assist me in my studies and research. Her upbringing, I believe, has no direct bearing on her professional competence. As for the rumors…” She tilted her chin up slightly, her pale violet eyes finally meeting her father’s burning gaze.
The coldness within them caused even Hezdi to falter.
“If they are baseless, why should one care? If someone is maliciously slandering me, should you not first investigate the source and defend the family’s reputation, Father, rather than standing here accusing me?”
Her words were steady and unhurried, yet every syllable was clear.
She didn’t just refute Hezdi’s accusations; she subtly threw the problem back at him.
Who was spreading the rumors?
Why weren’t they stopped instead of questioning the victim?
Earl Hezdi was momentarily speechless, his face flushing a deep red.
He clearly hadn’t expected his daughter, who had always maintained an image of elegant obedience in public, to respond with such cold, sharp precision.
More and more gazes drifted toward them, filled with curiosity, scrutiny, and even a hint of amusement.
This was a Royal Banquet, after all.
If things turned too ugly, it was House Elwin’s reputation that would suffer.
“Moreover — ” Freya’s tone shifted.
“My grandfather should have sent word to Earl Elwin’s Mansion regarding my ill health. Regardless of whether the news was true, I never heard a single word of concern from you while I was there, nor did I see you come to visit me.”
Freya took one step forward, looking directly at Hezdi.
“Am I, your daughter, truly worth less than the reputation of House Elwin?”
Looking into those eyes that were like stagnant water, Hezdi was actually startled into taking one step back.
When did this little girl become so sharp-tongued?
Suddenly, a figure stepped directly in front of Freya.
It was none other than Irina, wearing her pale pink dress.
“Fre… Freya, please don’t speak to your father like that, okay?”
Irina looked up, her eyes shining with a look of “brave” determination.
“Your father is only lecturing you because he cares about you too much. You shouldn’t talk back to your own father; it’s not right.”
As she spoke, Irina turned back and bowed toward Hezdi, her voice soft and full of apology.
“I’m sorry, Sir. Freya didn’t mean to talk back to you on purpose. Could you please forgive her?”
Irina clearly emphasized the two words “on purpose.” Those two words were like a knife, stabbing straight into Hezdi’s heart.
He was already incredibly frustrated by his daughter’s rebellion.
Seeing Irina’s well-behaved, obedient, and lovely appearance only added fuel to the fire.
He even found himself thinking — ‘If only this girl were my daughter.’
Just then, a gentle yet authoritative voice interjected.
“Earl Hezdi, what has caused such excitement?”
Ross had approached at some point, a look of perfect concern on his face as if he had merely come to mediate a dispute.
His arrival caused the surrounding onlookers to retreat slightly.
Earl Hezdi took a deep breath, forcing down his rage as he bowed to the Crown Prince.
“Your Highness, I apologize for the unsightly scene. It was merely… a family matter. My daughter is young and ignorant; I’m sorry for troubling you.”
Ross smiled thinly, his gaze sweeping over Freya’s expressionless face before flickering over Lyra’s obviously guarded posture.
“Lady Freya is exceptionally bright; she surely has her reasons for her actions. You needn’t worry too much, Earl. Today is a banquet of celebration. Why not set aside these trivial matters and enjoy this rare occasion?”
His words seemed to smooth things over, but by defining Hezdi’s “family matter” as a “trivial matter,” he effectively stripped away the legitimacy of Hezdi’s outburst and gave both parties a way to back down.
Earl Hezdi’s expression shifted several times before he finally gave a stiff nod.
“Your Highness is correct.”
He shot Freya a harsh glare, a look that clearly promised to settle the score later.
Then, he forced a smile for Ross, turned, and walked toward another group of nobles.
Of course, he didn’t forget to take note of… Irina’s beautiful little face.
The storm seemed to have been temporarily suppressed by the Crown Prince.
Ross looked at Freya, his blue eyes containing a hint of scrutiny and a trace of indiscernible interest.
“Freya, your father was simply acting out of concern. Don’t take it to heart.”
“Thank you for intervening, Your Highness.”
Freya curtsied slightly, her expression remaining indifferent.
“My father simply misunderstood the situation.”
“It’s good that the misunderstanding is cleared up.”
Ross nodded, his gaze seemingly drifting unintentionally over Lyra before he said warmly, “I look forward to tomorrow’s Exchange Competition, especially… the ‘observation’ of the assistant by your side.”
He deliberately emphasized the word “observation.”
Then, he turned and walked away elegantly, as if he truly had only come to play the peacemaker.
The surrounding crowd gradually dispersed, but the gazes directed at Freya and Lyra were now more complex than before, laced with various speculations.
Lyra leaned closer to Freya, whispering in a very low voice.
“Boss, your old man… has quite a temper. If that prince hadn’t come over, I was ready to make him be ‘quiet’ for a while.”
She made a chopping motion with her hand.
“Don’t be reckless,” Freya warned in a low voice, her fingertips lightly tracing the cool rim of her teacup.
Her father’s appearance and public confrontation confirmed her suspicions — her intention to reject the Marriage Contract and the existence of Lyra as a “variable” had already triggered a strong reaction and pressure from within the family and the Imperial Family’s allied forces.
At today’s banquet, her father had likely come specifically to force her into a public stance or submission.
However, he hadn’t expected that the daughter he thought needed strict discipline had long since been replaced by a soul as hard as iron, one that had already lived through betrayal and death.
Still, Freya hadn’t expected Irina to jump out at that moment to speak on her father’s behalf.
In her past life — when Irina first met her father, she hadn’t dared to say a single word.
“Let’s go.”
Freya set down her teacup and spoke to Lyra.
“There’s nothing left for us here.”
She needed some space to digest the mounting pressure and to make final preparations for the Exchange Competition tomorrow, which was bound to be anything but peaceful.
Her father’s rage, Crown Prince Ross’s attention, Irina’s facade… everything was like a net tightening around her.
And she had to find a way to tear it open before it closed completely.
Following Freya, Lyra took one last look back at the center of the banquet hall.
There, Earl Hezdi was conversing with others, his face still dark.
Ross seemed like he wanted to come back over, but Irina gently caught his sleeve, whispering something to him.
“Tch, what a den of demons,” Lyra muttered, clicking her tongue as she hurried to catch up with Freya.
The night was deep, and the lights and music of the banquet hall were left behind.
Freya no longer had any interest in pretending to be a reserved noble lady, chatting and smiling.
At this moment, she only wanted to wash up and lie in bed to rest.
“Boss, Boss! Are you leaving your Little White behind?”
Lyra caught up quickly.
At some point, she had taken off those bothersome high heels and was running toward her barefoot.
Freya turned around to see her holding a high heel in each hand, rushing toward her with a silly grin.
Looking down at Lyra’s feet, they were already quite dirty.
“Do your… feet not hurt?”
Freya was truly at a loss with this wolf.
“They don’t hurt. The ground in the Black Market is much rougher and dirtier than this. I used to run around barefoot all the time; I’ve already developed iron feet.”
Lyra grinned.
To prove it to Freya, she even stomped her feet on the ground twice.
Freya noticed red marks on her feet. It seemed she really wasn’t used to wearing heels.
There were benches placed at intervals along the paths of the Royal Academy of Magic.
Coincidentally, there was one right next to them.
“Go sit over there.”