Lyra scratched her messy, unruly hair, looking both innocent and confused.
“I don’t know either… I went back to my room to sleep last night… but as I slept, I started feeling a bit cold… I seemed to smell a nice scent from Boss, and it was very warm… and then… then…”
She tried hard to recall, her expression gradually turning a bit guilty.
‘I seem to have followed the scent while I was half-asleep? The door wasn’t locked… so I… crawled in?’
Her voice grew smaller and smaller as she spoke. She clearly realized that her behavior was a bit… off.
Freya was so frustrated she almost laughed.
‘Followed the scent? Does she think I’m a signpost or a heater?!’
‘And does she think she can just come in because the door wasn’t locked?!’
‘Just how ridiculous are this girl’s animal instincts!’
“Lyra…”
Freya took a deep breath, attempting to use Lyra’s full name to increase the intimidation factor.
However, she suddenly remembered that she didn’t even know Lyra’s last name.
She could only grit her teeth and continue.
“Listen to me! First, without my permission, you are absolutely, definitely not allowed into my bedroom! Second, you are not… not allowed on my bed! Third, go back to your own room to sleep! Do you understand?!”
Her voice was exceptionally stern due to shame and indignation, and her light purple eyes looked as if they were about to spit fire.
Lyra shrank her neck at the shout.
Like a big dog being scolded by its owner for doing something wrong, her ears — if she had any — would probably be drooping by now.
“U-Understood, Boss…”
She muttered softly.
“I was wrong… I just… I just felt like I could sleep better and feel more at ease by Boss’s side… In the Black Market, everyone huddles together to sleep. I’m used to it…”
That last murmur caused Freya’s anger to stall for a moment.
‘The Black Market… huddling together to sleep… used to it?’
‘So, for Lyra, this might just be a survival instinct developed in a dangerous environment to seek safety and warmth?’
‘She just… instinctively drew closer to someone who made her feel safe?’
This realization caused the shame and annoyance in Freya’s heart to dissipate slightly, replaced by a complex emotion.
Lyra’s past was clearly filled with chaos and insecurity that she could hardly imagine.
This almost beast-like way of dependence and closeness, while difficult for her to accept, was also… understandable?
Looking at Lyra’s drooping head and pitiful appearance (though most of it was likely an act), Freya finally let out a heavy sigh and rubbed her still-burning forehead.
“Don’t let it happen again.”
She kept her face stern, but her voice softened.
“Now, immediately, go back to your own room to wash up and get ready. Breakfast time is almost here.”
“Yes! Boss!”
As if receiving a grand pardon, Lyra immediately stood up straight and gave a clumsy salute.
Then, with her bare feet, she vanished from the room like a *whoosh* of wind, not forgetting to carefully close the door behind her.
The room regained its silence, with only the sunlight flowing quietly.
Freya hugged her blanket and sat on the bed, the heat on her face not yet fully faded.
A tingling, strange sensation seemed to remain on her thigh where she had been rubbed against, making her heart rate a bit unstable.
She looked down at her nightgown, then at the empty side of the bed, feeling a complex sense of wordlessness.
‘Lyra is truly a “trouble” that cannot be measured by common sense.’
But for some reason, after that commotion, the heavy weight brought back from the Imperial Palace last night, the tension of the confrontation with her father, and the worries about the future all seemed to have been diluted a bit.
They were replaced by a more vivid, even somewhat comical… sense of reality.
‘Perhaps this is what life is like. Even if the road ahead is full of thorns and conspiracies, there will always be unexpected, headache-inducing, and helpless people and things around to stir up a pool of still water.’
Freya shook her head, tossing those messy thoughts aside.
She threw back the covers, got out of bed, and walked to the window, letting the morning sun and breeze blow against her face.
A new day had begun.
The pressure from her father, the shadow of the Holy Temple, Ross’s ambition, and Irina’s poisonous schemes… all of those things were still there.
But at least for this moment, the sunlight was good.
And she was not alone.
That eccentric, white-haired girl she had just kicked out might be the most unpredictable, yet most likely companion to bring change given to her by fate.
The corners of Freya’s lips curled up into an extremely faint arc that even she didn’t notice.
“That idiot Lyra…”
She muttered softly and turned toward the bathroom.
The atmosphere at breakfast was a bit subtle.
At the long dining table, Freya had already changed into her regular clothes and sat upright, enjoying her breakfast with elegant movements.
Only the faint blush on the tips of her ears that had not yet fully faded, and the complex gaze she occasionally cast toward Lyra — a mix of shame, annoyance, and helplessness — betrayed that her heart was not as calm as her surface.
Lyra, on the other hand, had changed into her assistant’s casual clothes. Her white hair was rarely combed neatly. She was currently buried in a large plate of fried eggs and sausages, eating with great relish as if the “bed-crawl incident” from that morning had never happened.
However, she would occasionally steal a glance at Freya. A flash of guilt and… a tiny bit of lingering regret would quickly pass through her red eyes?
Then, before Freya could notice, she would quickly bury her head back into her food and pretend nothing was wrong.
Grandpa Calanso sat at the head of the table, taking in the silent undercurrents between the two girls. A hint of amusement and deep thought flashed in his silver-gray eyes.
He cleared his throat, breaking the silence.
“Freya, my Little Star, how did you rest last night?”
Freya put down her knife and fork and gently wiped the corners of her mouth with a napkin.
“It was fine, Grandpa.”
She paused and added.
“This morning… I was woken up by some accidents.”
Lyra’s head dropped even lower, almost digging into her plate.
The smile in Calanso’s eyes deepened, but his tone remained normal.
“That is good. Regarding the matters of last night…”
He was referring to Count Hezdi’s visit and the subsequent conflict.
“I have already sent people to strengthen the guards and surveillance inside and outside the mansion. In the short term, your father’s side should not have any similar excessive actions. However, you must also be prepared. He, or perhaps the Imperial Family or the Holy Temple, might apply pressure through other more ‘official’ or ‘indirect’ means.”
“I understand, Grandpa.”
Freya nodded, her gaze returning to its usual calm.
“My studies and research are currently my best ‘shield.’ I will continue to focus on my courses and projects at the Central Academy.”
This was both her true thought and a statement to her grandfather and Lyra — she would play the role of the “Genius Mage focused on her studies.”
“Mhm.”
Calanso nodded in approval, his gaze seemingly casually sweeping over Lyra.
“Miss Lyra, as Freya’s assistant, while she is focused on her studies, you will need to keep an eye on the environment inside and outside the Academy in addition to your necessary support work. Ensure that… there are no unnecessary distractions.”
His words had a double meaning.
Lyra immediately looked up, half a sausage still dangling from her mouth, and nodded vigorously.
“Mm-hmm! Don’t worry, Grandpa! I guarantee I’ll complete the mission! I definitely won’t let any ‘flies or mosquitoes’ disturb Boss!”
She patted her chest in guarantee, her eyes sparkling with an excitement that suggested she was about to do something big.
Watching Lyra’s eager appearance, Freya’s heart stirred slightly.
She vaguely felt that an understanding she did not yet fully comprehend had been reached between her grandfather and Lyra.
But for now, she didn’t want to dig deeper.
She needed to trust her grandfather’s arrangements, and she also needed the sharp edge of Lyra’s “blade.”
After breakfast, Freya decided to return to the Central Magic Academy.
First, taking consecutive leaves of absence would indeed affect her studies and provide others with an excuse to criticize her.
Second, the relatively independent environment and rich resources of the Academy were more suitable for her to conduct research and secret investigations.
Third… she needed a bit of space to digest everything that had happened last night and this morning, and to organize her stirred-up heart.
“I will have the carriage take you both,” Calanso instructed. “Lyra, protect Freya.”
“Yes!” Lyra straightened her back.
On the way back to the Academy, the atmosphere in the carriage was much more relaxed than when they had arrived, but there was also a hint of imperceptible… awkwardness?
Or rather, a certain subtle tension.
Freya held a book on magic theory, seemingly focused on reading, but her peripheral vision couldn’t help but drift toward Lyra sitting opposite her.
Lyra was leaning against the carriage window, curiously looking at the street scenery and humming a tuneless song.
However, she also seemed to sense Freya’s gaze.
Occasionally, she would turn her head and grin at Freya, her smile so bright and cloudless that it was as if the “accident” from that morning had truly been an unintentional act while she was half-asleep.
Freya felt a bit uncomfortable from her smile. She moved her gaze away, and the tips of her ears grew warm again.
She forced herself to focus her attention on the book.
However, just as the carriage entered the Academy District and before it had reached the gates of the Central Magic Academy, the road ahead was blocked once more.
This time, it was not the guards of House Elwin, but two male students wearing the uniforms of the Royal Academy.
They had arrogant expressions, and a few individuals who looked like lackeys followed behind them. They were clearly there for them, as they blocked the path of the carriage directly.
Old John, the coachman, had to stop the carriage again.
“May I ask what you gentlemen want? This is the carriage of Miss Dale,” Old John asked in a deep voice, his tone already wary.
One of the Royal Academy students — a handsome young man with red hair, blue eyes, and an air of arrogance — stepped forward. His gaze landed directly on the carriage cabin as he spoke loudly.
“Is Miss Freya Christo Dale here? I am Adrian von Lorrain, a fourth-year student at the Royal Academy. Entrusted by His Highness Ross, I have come specifically to invite Miss Freya to the ‘Morning Glow Garden’ of the Royal Academy for a chat. His Highness has some… unfinished business from last night that he wishes to discuss with the Young Lady in private.”
Adrian von Lorrain. Freya had heard of this name.
He was the son of Marquess Lorrain, one of the prominent figures at the Royal Academy, and a member of Crown Prince Ross’s inner circle.
Sending him to “invite” her, and specifically mentioning a “private chat,” clearly showed that Ross had not let go of her loss of composure and escape last night.
He might even be more eager to “communicate” with her, or rather… apply pressure, due to the series of subsequent events like Lyra injuring the guards and her father coming to demand her return.
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