She closed her eyes.
‘It’s okay,’ she thought. ‘The Boss is here.’
She fell asleep.
The night outside the window was deep. Very deep.
When the morning light flooded through the window frame again, Freya opened her eyes.
She woke up earlier than usual today. It wasn’t because she had slept enough, but rather because a faint sense of unease had pricked at the depths of her consciousness.
She turned her head.
Lyra was still sleeping.
But her sleeping position had changed again — her entire body was curled into a ball, wrapped tightly in the quilt, with only a white head peeking out. Her brow was slightly furrowed and her lips were pursed, as if she had encountered something unpleasant in her dreams.
Freya watched her for a moment.
Then, she lifted the quilt, got out of bed, and walked barefoot to Lyra’s side before crouching down. She extended her hand and held it over Lyra’s forehead, pausing for a second.
She didn’t touch her.
She simply watched that sleeping face quietly, observing those trembling eyelashes and that little fang that would occasionally peek out, unconsciously bitten down upon even in sleep.
She remembered how, just before they went to sleep last night, Lyra had suddenly sat up from her floor bed. Her red eyes had stared at her in the darkness as she said something without context.
“Boss, if someone bullies you, you must tell me.”
Freya had been reading at the time and looked up to meet those serious eyes. “Why?”
“Because — ” Lyra paused, seemingly struggling to organize her words. “I’m very good at fighting. Those big guys in the mountains didn’t dare mess with me.”
Freya fell silent for a moment.
She naturally knew Lyra was powerful. After all, the girl had tried to kill her the first time they met.
“If someone bullies you — ” Lyra spoke again, her voice lowering with a trace of imperceptible tension. “Will… will you tell me?”
Freya looked at her.
She looked for a long time.
So long that Lyra thought she wouldn’t answer and was about to retreat back into her quilt —
“Yes.”
A single word. It was as light as a sigh.
Lyra’s eyes lit up like two ignited Little Stars. She grinned, her little fang gleaming under the dim lamplight.
“Then it’s a deal!”
She retreated back into her quilt with satisfaction, wrapping herself up like a cocoon. “Goodnight, Boss!”
Freya didn’t answer. She lowered her head and flipped through her book again. But she stared at that same page for a long time without turning it.
Now, in the morning light, Freya withdrew her hand from Lyra’s forehead. She stood up and walked toward the washroom.
When the sound of water began, Lyra’s eyelids fluttered. She didn’t open her eyes; she simply rolled over, buried her face in the quilt, and allowed the corners of her mouth to tilt up into a tiny arc.
At breakfast, there were more people than usual in the Academy Canteen.
Freya carried her tray through the crowd, her gaze habitually sweeping toward that corner — the place where they usually sat.
It was empty.
However, at the table next to it sat several students she didn’t recognize. When those people saw her approaching, their gazes met subtly before they continued eating as if nothing were wrong.
Freya didn’t care and sat down in the corner. Lyra followed behind her, holding a plate piled high with meat, her red eyes alertly scanning the surroundings.
“Boss…” Lyra lowered her voice as she sat. “Those people were looking at you just now.”
“Mhm.”
“Their eyes were weird.”
“Mhm.”
Lyra frowned, wanting to say something, but her train of thought was interrupted by a familiar fragrance. Anke walked over quickly with her tray and flopped down opposite Freya, her brown eyes flashing with the light of having “something big to say.”
“Freya, Freya — ” She lowered her voice and leaned in closer. “I heard something last night.”
Freya looked up.
“That dormitory of Irina’s — ” Anke’s voice dropped even lower. “It was originally a vacant storage room. It had no windows and was only one-third the size of a normal dorm. The conditions were terrible. But — ” She paused. “Yesterday afternoon, she moved out.”
Freya’s fingers paused slightly.
She knew that the place Irina lived in was pathetic. In her Previous Life, she had been soft-hearted and even spent money to help her move out of there.
Thinking of this, Freya truly felt that her past self had been a fool.
“Where did she move to?”
“A single room.” Anke emphasized each word. “On the same floor as you, only three rooms apart.”
The air went still for a moment. Lyra’s fork hit her plate with a clatter. She stared down at the punctured steak, her red eyes narrowing.
“She did it on purpose,” she muttered gloomily. “Definitely on purpose.”
Anke didn’t respond, she only looked at Freya. Freya lowered her gaze and took a sip of tea.
“The allocation of single rooms,” she said. “What procedure does it require?”
“That’s the problem.” Anke leaned in even closer. “I asked around. A single room must be recommended by a Professor, audited by the Discipline Office, and finally reported to the Student Union. The whole process takes at least one week. But she applied yesterday afternoon and moved in by yesterday evening.”
She paused. “It’s like — someone completed all the paperwork in advance and was just waiting for her to nod.”
Freya set down her cup. Her gaze landed on a point outside the window, not moving for a long time.
Lyra watched her, her red eyes full of worry. She wanted to say something, but Anke lightly pressed her wrist. Anke shook her head slightly.
She wanted Freya to think for herself. She knew better than anyone that at this moment, any external advice couldn’t compare to Freya’s own judgment.
After a long while, Freya withdrew her gaze.
“Let’s go.” She stood up and picked up her tray. “We’re going to be late.”
The morning classes passed in peace.
At least on the surface.
Freya listened to the lectures as seriously as ever, taking notes and occasionally answering the Professor’s questions with precision and brevity.
Lyra actually stayed awake for once. She leaned against the desk, her red eyes half-open as she stared at the classroom door, as if waiting for someone to appear.
But that person never came. Irina didn’t show up for class today.
During the lunch break, Freya didn’t go to the canteen. She walked toward the Library alone, with Lyra following close behind.
As they crossed the cloister, they ran into several people. Leading them was Ross Castor.
He stood by a pillar, his short golden hair slightly disheveled by the wind. There were faint dark circles under his eyes, looking as if he hadn’t slept all night.
Upon seeing Freya, his footsteps faltered. His lips moved, but no sound came out.
Freya looked at him, her gaze as calm as if she were looking at something that had nothing to do with her.
Two seconds. Three seconds.
She withdrew her gaze and continued walking forward. At the moment they brushed past each other —
“Freya.”
Ross’s voice came from behind her, hoarse and strained.
Freya stopped but didn’t look back.
Ross stood a few paces behind her, his fingers curling slightly and his knuckles turning white.
“I want to talk to you,” he said. “Alone.”
Lyra’s brow immediately twisted, and a small flame ignited in her red eyes. She took a step forward but was stopped by Freya’s lightly raised hand.
“Talk about what?” Freya’s voice was flat, without any inflection.
Ross fell silent. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but found that he couldn’t say anything at all.
Talk about what? Talk about the things his mother said last night that kept him awake? Talk about his inner struggle and fear? Talk about how he didn’t know what to do with her? Or talk about — how he wanted her, but didn’t know how to ask?
The words were stuck in his throat; he couldn’t utter a single one.
Freya waited for three seconds. Then, she lowered her hand and continued walking.
“Freya!” Ross’s voice rose an octave, carrying a hint of urgency he had never shown in public before.
Freya didn’t stop.
Ross stood in place, watching that pale purple silhouette drift further away until it finally disappeared at the end of the cloister.
The wind blew, swirling a few fallen leaves. His fingers slowly tightened, clenching into a fist.
In the Library, Freya sat in her usual window seat with a book spread out before her. But her gaze didn’t land on the pages.
Lyra crouched at her feet, looking up at her.
“Boss.”
“Mhm.”
“You’re in a bad mood.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement.
Freya didn’t deny it.
Lyra thought for a moment, then fished something out from her bosom and held it out to her. It was a piece of Honey Biscuits carefully wrapped in greaseproof paper.
“I swiped it from the canteen this morning — ” Lyra said, her red eyes sparkling. “I originally wanted to keep it for myself. But Boss is in a bad mood, so I’ll give it to you.”
Freya looked down at the biscuit. The paper was wrapped crookedly; it was obvious Lyra had done it herself. There was even a small crumb stuck to it, likely a trace left from hiding it too hastily.
She reached out and took the biscuit. “Thank you.”
Lyra grinned, her eyes curving into two crescents. She crouched back at Freya’s feet with satisfaction, pulled out her dog-eared copy of the Monster Bestiary from her bosom, and continued studying her “Snowfield Wolf King.”
Sunlight poured down through the high windows, landing on the two of them and coating them in a warm glow.
Freya looked at the biscuit for a long time. Then, she opened the paper and took a light bite. The sweetness of the honey melted on the tip of her tongue.
It was very sweet.
It was so sweet that it caused the thin layer of ice in her eyes to quietly melt at the corner.
In the evening, Freya and Lyra returned to the dormitory building. At the turn of the stairs, they met that person.
Irina Ewell was standing in the hallway in front of an open door, directing two movers to carry several boxes into the room.
When she saw Freya, a perfectly timed, gentle, and shy smile appeared on her face.
“Freya — ” she greeted softly. “What a coincidence. It turns out you live on this floor too.”
Freya stopped. Her gaze swept over the door — it was indeed a single room. The location was excellent, south-facing with plenty of sunlight. It was only three doors away from her own room.
“We’ll be neighbors from now on,” Irina continued, her voice as soft as a feather. “If you need help with anything, feel free to find me.”
She paused, her pink eyes filled with sincerity. “I’ve always hoped to get along well with you, Freya.”
A very faint low growl escaped Lyra’s throat. Her red eyes stared directly at Irina, like a predator staring at an intruder who had entered its territory.
Freya said nothing. She simply looked at Irina. She looked at that flawless, impeccable tenderness in those pink eyes.