“That…
I mean, during class…
Uh, even though it’s almost over, eating in the classroom, especially food with such a strong scent, wouldn’t it… affect other students?
And it seems like the Academy Rules mention that teaching areas should stay… well, tidy and focused?”
Her words sounded entirely like a good student thinking of the group and following the rules, paired with her pure, innocent, and even slightly timid expression.
Anyone looking at her for the first time would think she was just cowardly but couldn’t help but dutifully offer a bit of kind advice.
But Freya looked at her, and deep within those light purple eyes, there was no warmth.
‘Did Irina appear here to “remind” her in this seemingly harmless way truly out of concern for classroom discipline? Or was this another carefully calculated “coincidence”?’
‘Was the goal to break her rare moment of relaxation, or to subtly craft her own image of being “law-abiding” and “caring about the collective” in front of everyone—especially those who might be watching—while implicitly labeling Freya as someone who “doesn’t follow rules” and “indulges her follower”?’
Lyra also stopped chewing, still holding the remaining small half of the cake in her hand.
Her red eyes narrowed as she looked warily at Irina, letting out a low, defensive sound from her throat, almost like a whimper.
The air around them seemed to freeze for a moment because of Irina’s “kind” reminder.
A few nearby students who heard the conversation also cast subtle glances their way.
Freya watched Irina quietly, neither refuting her immediately nor getting angry.
She simply used those light purple eyes that seemed to see through appearances to calmly—one could even say “intently”—look Irina up and down.
Her gaze eventually settled on those pink eyes filled with “innocence” and “concern.”
Then, Freya finally spoke slowly.
Her voice wasn’t loud, yet it was clear and steady, devoid of any offended agitation, carrying instead a nearly cold sense of logic.
“Student Irina—”
She said the name with a flat, emotionless tone.
“First, there are still three minutes until class officially ends. Second, Student Lyra is feeling slightly unwell and needs to supplement her sugar intake; this was tacitly permitted by the Professor. Finally…”
She paused slightly, a faint, almost mocking glint flashing in her icy eyes.
“…Thank you for your ‘enthusiastic’ reminder. However, rather than worrying about whether someone ate a small piece of cake in the final minutes of class, you should put more effort into your own Mana control precision. I noticed that during the practical demonstration earlier, your basic Levitation Charm seemed… lacking in stability.”
Freya’s words were like a precise scalpel, not only effortlessly deflecting Irina’s accusations of “discipline” and “influence” but also turning the focus back onto Irina’s own potential lack of ability.
She didn’t raise her voice or show any displeasure; she simply used a matter-of-fact tone to turn Irina’s seemingly morally superior “reminder” into an awkward case of being meddlesome while having her own shortcomings.
The pure and timid expression on Irina’s face froze for an instant.
A flash of shock and cold fury flickered deep within her pink eyes so quickly it was almost a hallucination.
She quickly lowered her head again, her voice becoming even softer and weaker, even carrying a slight, aggrieved tremble.
“Is… is that so… I’m sorry, Student Freya. I didn’t realize Student Lyra was unwell, and I… I overstepped. My Magic does indeed need more practice. Thank you for the correction…”
She spoke, gave a slight bow, and then turned to walk back to her seat with hurried steps. Her back looked fragile and carried a hint of despondent loneliness.
The nearby students, who had been watching out of curiosity, withdrew their gazes.
Some thought Freya had a point, while others felt Irina might have just been too serious and got shut down.
Either way, this little interlude seemed to end in Freya’s “victory.”
Lyra, seeing this, immediately stuffed the remaining half of the cake into her mouth in two or three bites.
She licked the honey from the corner of her mouth with satisfaction, then gave Freya a wide, admiring smile and mumbled, “Boss, so cool!”
Freya didn’t respond to Lyra’s praise. She just turned her head and looked out the window again as if nothing had happened.
But her fingertip, resting on her knee, tapped ever so slightly.
‘Irina Ewell… as expected, she was even more impatient than anticipated, and also… better at disguising and testing.’
The bell for the end of class rang with a long chime; the morning’s theory lesson was finally over.
The students were like they had been released from some sort of restraint, and the classroom was immediately filled with the noisy sounds of packing, standing up, and chatting.
Anke Bliss organized her notes and stationery briskly, taking a few steps to reach Freya’s seat.
With a bright smile, she naturally reached out to hook her arm into Freya’s.
“Freya, let’s go! Let’s have lunch together! I know the Academy Canteen has a special on roasted lamb chops today. If we’re late, they’ll all be gone!”
Freya was about to nod, but her gaze subconsciously turned to Lyra, who was still slowly stretching, seemingly not yet fully awake from her nap.
She remembered how Lyra had reacted to the overly enthusiastic Sophie—the obvious rejection and the way she almost bristled.
Although Anke was her best friend of many years and had a better sense of boundaries than Sophie, Lyra’s way of thinking and her reactions were often unexpected.
To avoid another awkward moment or conflict, Freya decided to ask for Lyra’s opinion first.
“Lyra—” she called out softly, successfully catching Lyra’s attention. “Anke wants to join us for lunch. Do you… think that’s okay?”
Lyra’s fully stretched body paused, and she turned her head toward Anke. Her red eyes looked Anke up and down.
The latter was wearing a neat and well-fitting academy uniform today.
Her short brown hair was styled cleanly, her eyes were curved, and her smile was sincere and a bit lively.
Overall, she gave off the impression of being clever, sensible, and easy to get along with.
It was completely different from the suffocating enthusiasm that the Big Chest Monster Sophie had projected.
Lyra stared at Anke for a few seconds, then suddenly leaned close to Freya.
Almost pressing against her ear, she asked in a tone she thought was very quiet (but which Anke could actually mostly hear), “Boss, is this your good friend? Really?”
Her tone was filled with a peculiar sense of inquiry and a trace of undetectable… wariness?
Freya was slightly stunned by the question, not understanding why she had to specifically confirm this, but she still nodded and gave an affirmative answer.
“Yes. Anke Bliss has been my good friend for many years.”
Her tone was natural, carrying the certainty of their friendship.
Hearing Lyra’s question and Freya’s answer, the smile on Anke’s face grew even brighter.
She wasn’t displeased by Lyra’s somewhat abrupt question; instead, she found the girl Freya had “brought back” to be a bit cute in her straightforwardness.
She let go of Freya’s arm and took a half-step toward Lyra, bending down slightly so her gaze was level with the seated Lyra.
She reached out her hand with a friendly and lively tone.
“Hello there, little Lyra! Let me introduce myself properly. I’m Anke Bliss, and as your Boss said, I’ve been her good friend since we were kids! Little Lyra, let’s get along well from now on~”
However, before Anke could finish, Lyra’s gaze involuntarily fell on the spot where Anke had just been holding Freya’s arm, and then she looked at Anke’s outstretched, friendly hand.
An inexplicable, heavy, and indistinguishable feeling of discomfort spread through her heart without warning, feeling stuffy and a bit blocked.
‘This Anke… she certainly didn’t look like a bad person. She looks pleasant, speaks nicely, has a smile that isn’t annoying, and the Boss said she was a “good friend of many years.” Logically, I should have a good impression of her. But… why does my heart feel so… so unpleasant watching her naturally hold the Boss’s arm, watching her speak so familiarly with the Boss, and watching her get close to the Boss’s side so easily?’
It felt as if the warmest, most comfortable nest she had been carefully guarding was suddenly being approached—and even shared—by another seemingly harmless bird as if it were the natural thing to do.
Although that bird had no ill intent, and even though the owner of the nest seemed to allow it… she just didn’t want to give it up.
Lyra didn’t quite understand what this complex emotion was.
She was simply following the most primitive and direct impulse deep within her heart—she wanted to hog her Boss.
The Boss was her employer, the one who gave her food, a place to stay, brushed her hair, worried if she was full, and indulged her in a few small mistakes.
She liked staying by her Boss’s side, liked the scent that made her feel at ease, and liked the tiny bit of special indulgence and care the Boss occasionally showed only to her.
She didn’t want to share. Especially with a “good friend,” a title that sounded like a very close relationship.
So, facing Anke’s outstretched hand and friendly suggestion, Lyra didn’t silly-handedly grab it or warily dodge it as she usually would.
She simply tilted her head slightly, her red eyes staring straight at Anke.
The usual smile—whether silly or bright—had disappeared from her face, replaced by a blunt scrutiny and a faint hint of resistance.
She didn’t take Anke’s hand, nor did she answer Anke’s comment about “getting along well.”
Instead, she turned her head and looked at Freya again, her voice carrying a stubbornness and gloominess she didn’t even notice.
“Boss… do we have to eat with her? Can’t the… two of us just go eat meat together?”