Chapter 64: Refusing to get along amicably

She paused, her pink eyes filled with sincere expectation.

“I want to get along well with you, Freya.”

The air fell silent for a moment.

Lyra let out an extremely faint, low growl from her throat. Her red eyes stared straight at Irina, as if she were looking at a venomous snake coiled in the middle of the road.

Freya looked at her.

She looked at that perfect sincerity within those pink eyes.

Then, she spoke.

“There is no need.”

Irina’s smile stiffened slightly.

Freya ignored her and continued walking forward.

The moment they brushed past each other —

“Freya.”

Irina’s voice came from behind. It was still gentle, yet it held a trace of something else.

Freya stopped in her tracks.

“Do you know — ” Irina said softly. “I have always envied you.”

Freya did not look back.

“You have everything. Birth, talent, status, and…” she paused, “other people’s sincerity.”

The wind blew through the corridor, sweeping up a few fallen leaves that had drifted in from somewhere.

“I have nothing,” Irina continued, her voice light like a sigh. “So I can only rely on myself to strive for what I want. Bit by bit, step by step.”

She paused.

“If, in this process, I accidentally hurt someone… then that was never my intention.”

Freya turned around.

She looked at Irina.

Those pink eyes still held that perfect gentleness and sincerity. It was as if the words she had just spoken were merely the heartfelt confession of a helpless young girl.

“Not your intention,” Freya repeated, her tone flat.

Irina nodded gently, her eyes seemingly shimmering with unshed tears.

Freya looked at her. She watched her for a long time.

Then, the corners of her lips curled up slightly — a very faint, almost invisible curve.

“I understand.”

She turned and continued walking.

Lyra followed her, but before walking through the dormitory door, she cast a glance back at Irina. That single look contained a coldness she had never displayed in front of others.

The door closed.

Irina was the only one left in the corridor.

She stood in place, the gentle smile on her face slowly freezing. Something flashed through those pink eyes.

It was not anger. It was not frustration.

It was confusion.

Freya’s reaction was completely different from what she had expected. She thought Freya would get angry, question her, or show some kind of weakness.

But she did nothing.

She simply looked at her calmly, said those ambiguous words, and then left.

‘It’s like… as if she already knew everything.’

‘As if, from the very beginning, she never believed me.’

Irina’s fingers slowly tightened, digging into her palms.

Inside the dormitory, Lyra flopped onto her floor bed as soon as they entered. She hugged the *Monster Bestiary*, flipping through the pages with a loud rustling sound.

But she wasn’t reading. Her red eyes stared at the pages, and her lips were pressed into a straight line.

Freya sat at the desk and turned on the lamp.

Silence reigned.

After a long while, Lyra’s muffled voice came from the floor bed.

“Boss.”

“Yes.”

“What that woman said just now — ” She paused. “What did she mean?”

Freya did not answer.

Lyra rolled over to lie on her back, her red eyes staring at the ceiling.

“She said she has nothing and can only rely on herself to strive.” She paused. “She sounded so pitiful.”

Freya still did not answer.

“But — ” Lyra continued. “I think it’s wrong.”

She sat up and looked at Freya’s back.

“The ‘striving’ she talks about isn’t striving for what she wants. It’s stealing.”

Freya’s shoulders moved slightly.

“I have seen the animals in the mountains,” Lyra said. “Some steal territory, some steal food, some steal mates. When they steal, they also act pitiful and pretend to be innocent. But their eyes cannot lie.”

She paused. “That woman’s eyes are just like theirs.”

The room was quiet for a long time. It was so long that Lyra thought Freya wouldn’t answer.

Then, she heard a voice.

“Your observation is very accurate.”

Lyra looked up.

Freya did not turn around, still keeping her back to her. But there was a trace of extremely faint, almost imperceptible softness in her voice.

“Some people will never be satisfied with what they have. They want more. Other people’s things are always better than their own.”

Lyra frowned. “Then what should we do?”

Freya remained silent for a moment.

“We do nothing,” she said. “Let her steal.”

“But — “

“Things that can be stolen are hers to take,” Freya interrupted. “Things that cannot be stolen will never be hers.”

She turned around and looked at Lyra.

The dim light fell on Lyra’s silver hair, casting a soft glow. Within those pale violet eyes was something Lyra did not understand — not coldness, nor distance, but a certain deeper calm that had been refined over many years.

“Don’t worry.”

Lyra was stunned. ‘Don’t worry? About what?’

Freya offered no further explanation. She turned back and reopened her book.

“Go to sleep. There are classes tomorrow.”

Lyra dazed for a moment, then slowly lay back down and wrapped herself in the blanket. She watched Freya’s back for a long time.

Then, she closed her eyes.

The boss said not to worry. Then she wouldn’t worry.

Late at night.

Freya was still sitting at her desk with the *Starry Sky Legacy* spread out before her. But she wasn’t reading it.

Her gaze was fixed on the pitch-black night sky outside the window. There was no moon tonight. There were only a few scattered stars, cold and distant.

She thought about the words Irina had spoken tonight.

‘I have nothing.’

‘I can only rely on myself to strive.’

‘If, in this process, I accidentally hurt someone, then that was never my intention.’

She had heard those words in her previous life as well.

Back then, she had believed them. Back then, she thought Irina truly was a helpless, pitiful girl who needed help and protection.

It wasn’t until the final moment, when the sword pierced her heart, that she finally saw the true colors within those pink eyes.

In this life, she would never believe them again.

However, Irina’s words tonight weren’t meant to be believed. They were meant to test her.

To test her reaction, her hidden cards, and her attitude toward that “heartfelt confession.”

Freya lowered her eyes.

Irina Ewell was even more impatient than she had imagined.

—

In a window in the distance, a pink-haired figure stood, looking out at the same night sky.

Irina’s finger lightly tapped against the window frame, once, and then again.

Tonight’s probe had failed.

Freya’s reaction was too strange. It wasn’t anger, it wasn’t caution, and it wasn’t even any of the emotions she had expected.

Instead, it was calm.

That calm was like a bottomless lake; no matter what was thrown into it, not a single ripple would be stirred.

Irina frowned.

Something must be wrong. She had missed something.

She closed her eyes and replayed every detail of this recent period in her mind.

The way Freya looked at her for the first time. Every word Freya had said to her in the canteen. Freya’s posture every time she walked past her. Freya’s attitude toward Lyra. Freya’s coldness when facing the Crown Prince. The mana Freya had released at the training ground this afternoon.

A detail suddenly flashed through her mind.

During that theory class, Freya had said that her Basic Levitation Incantation had “poor stability.”

She had indeed practiced the Basic Levitation Incantation, but that was before she transferred, at another academy in another city. The teaching progress of that academy was different from the Central Magic Academy; the Basic Levitation Incantation was practiced much earlier there.

Freya couldn’t possibly know that.

Unless —

Irina opened her eyes. Her pupils contracted slightly.

‘Unless Freya knows more about me than anyone could imagine.’

‘Impossible.’

As soon as that thought emerged, she suppressed it.

But that question was like a tiny seed, quietly buried deep within her heart.

—

Inside the Moonlight Hall, the candlelight flickered.

Vanessa reclined on a soft couch, holding a letter in her hand. The paper was very thin, and the handwriting was elegant and neat.

“…Testing unsuccessful. Target’s reaction abnormal, as if she knows something.”

The smile on Vanessa’s lips gradually deepened.

“Interesting.”

She brought the letter close to the candle flame, watching it burn away bit by bit. The ashes drifted down.

She whispered to herself, “Freya Christo Dale… just what secret are you hiding?”

Outside the window, the night wind blew. Something was quietly approaching through the darkness.

The next morning, when Freya woke up, a fine rain was falling outside.

This was the first rain since the beginning of autumn. The thin threads of rain fell from the sky, tracing countless winding water marks on the glass, blurring the world outside into a hazy gray-green.

She sat up, her long hair falling over her shoulders.

The floor bed was empty.

The bedding was folded neatly, the mat was straightened, and the pillow was fluffed — just as it always was.

But the *Monster Bestiary* was not placed neatly by the pillow as usual.

Freya’s gaze swept across the room. There was no sign of Lyra. The bathroom door was open, but no one was inside.

She lowered her eyes and sat quietly for a few seconds.

Then, she lifted the covers, got out of bed, and walked barefoot toward the door.

The moment the door opened, she saw Lyra.

The white-haired girl was squatting in the corridor, her back against the wall, her whole body curled into a ball.

She was soaked through. Her hair clung to her cheeks, and water constantly dripped from the hem of her clothes, forming a small puddle at her feet.

Hearing the door open, Lyra looked up.

Those red eyes met Freya’s gaze and instantly lit up.

“Boss!”

She stood up, but her movement was so fast that her feet stumbled slightly, almost causing her to fall.

“You’re awake!”

Freya looked at her.

She looked at her soaked hair, the dripping clothes, and her eyes, which were washed especially bright red by the rain.

And the thing she was holding in her arms — a bunch of wild flowers.

White, purple, and pale yellow flowers that had been plucked from who knows where. They had been battered and scattered by the rain, but she still protected them carefully in her arms.

Freya did not speak.

Lyra followed her gaze and looked down at the flowers in her arms, then at her own soaked appearance.

She seemed to only just realize how wretched she looked.

She grinned sheepishly, her small canine tooth flashing in the dim corridor.

“Well… I woke up early this morning and saw it was raining, so I wanted to go for a walk,” she explained.

“As I was walking, I ended up at the small hill behind the academy. I saw there were many flowers there, so I…”