“As for you—”
She turned her head and looked at Ross again.
Those light purple eyes remained as calm as water.
“If you truly want to help her, do it openly and honestly. You don’t need to come seeking my ‘permission’.”
She turned and walked toward the academic building.
She left Ross standing there alone, his figure a solitary shadow enveloped in the afternoon sun.
—
In the distance, on the other side of the academic building, someone retracted their gaze.
Irina stood in the shadow of a pillar, her pink eyes as deep as a pool.
She couldn’t hear what they were saying.
But she saw Ross standing there, saw Freya turn to leave, and saw the complex expression on Ross’s face.
It was enough.
The corners of her lips curled up slightly.
The Crown Prince was speaking up for her.
That was enough.
As for Freya’s reaction—
She lowered her eyelids, hiding the cold light in her eyes.
One day, she would see that calm face reveal the expression she desired.
—
At dusk, Freya returned to the dormitory.
The moment she pushed open the door, she froze.
On the desk sat a crooked vase—an old glass bottle found from goodness knows where, washed clean, with a thin ribbon tied around it in a less-than-perfect bow.
Inside the vase were the wildflowers she had casually left on the windowsill that morning.
The battered, broken flowers had been trimmed; the withered stems and leaves were gone, leaving only a few intact blossoms.
They had been carefully placed in the bottle, arranged with care. Although they still looked a bit bedraggled, they held more life than they had that morning.
Lyra crouched on her floor bed, her back to Freya, pretending to read the *Monster Bestiary* intently.
But her ears were bright red.
Freya stood at the door.
She looked at the vase of flowers.
She looked at the crooked bow.
She looked at the tips of Lyra’s reddened ears.
She remained silent for a long time.
Then she walked into the room and sat at the desk.
She reached out and gently touched the glass bottle.
The surface was smooth, carrying the slight chill of being washed.
She lowered her gaze.
Outside the window, the afterglow of the setting sun spilled through the clouds, spreading a layer of warm golden light across the room.
Lyra peeked from behind the *Monster Bestiary*, seeing Freya’s profile gilded with a soft edge by the sunset.
The corners of her mouth, which were always pressed into a straight line, seemed… to curve up just a little.
Lyra froze for a moment, then hurriedly ducked back behind the book, burying her face in the blanket, her eyes crinkling into crescent moons as she smiled.
—
Late at night.
Inside Moonlight Hall, the candlelight flickered.
Vanessa leaned back on a soft couch, holding a letter in her hand.
The stationery was thin, and the handwriting was elegant and neat.
“…The Mutual Aid Society has been established, and the commoner students are responding positively. The Crown Prince’s stance is clear; he has already spoken for me. The target remains cold, but I have found a breakthrough.”
The smile on Vanessa’s lips slowly deepened.
She held the letter close to the candle flame, watching it burn away bit by bit.
Ashes drifted down.
She whispered to herself, ‘A breakthrough?’
Outside the window, the night wind blew.
She recalled what Ross had said to her that night.
“She is very close to that orphan named Lyra.”
The Queen’s smile deepened.
‘An orphan…’
She closed her eyes.
‘Very well. It begins here.’
Morning light filtered through the gaps in the sycamore leaves, casting dappled spots of light on the stone path.
Freya and Lyra walked side by side toward the academic building, surrounded by students in groups of two or three. Some were looking down at their notes, while others were talking in low voices.
As they turned the corner of the corridor, Lyra suddenly slowed her pace.
“Boss, look.”
Freya followed her gaze.
In the square ahead, there were several students she didn’t recognize.
About seven or eight of them, of varying ages, all wore matching armbands on their sleeves—light pink fabric embroidered with a white flower that had a touch of gold at its center.
They were scattered in small groups along the roadside, holding stacks of beautifully printed flyers and handing them to passing students.
“Hey everyone, come learn about the Mutual Aid Society!”
“We have free tutoring every week with personal guidance from upperclassmen!”
“If you have any trouble, you can come to us anytime. We’re all commoners; we should help each other!”
The voices rose and fell, filled with the enthusiasm unique to the youth.
The passing students had varied reactions.
Some waved their hands politely and quickened their pace.
Others curiously took a flyer and read it as they walked.
A few even stopped to chat with the people handing out flyers, interest showing on their faces.
Freya’s gaze swept over the light pink armbands.
She had seen that floral pattern somewhere before.
Irina had the same pattern embroidered on the hem of her skirt.
Lyra leaned in and lowered her voice.
“Boss, are these people from that Mutual Aid Society organized by the crybaby you told me about?”
Freya didn’t turn to look at her, simply giving a light hum of affirmation.
Her gaze fell on the students distributing the flyers.
A few of them had already noticed her.
Their expressions changed in an instant—their enthusiastic smiles froze for a moment, their eyes darted away, and then they turned back to the other students as if nothing had happened.
It was as if they were avoiding something they shouldn’t get close to.
Lyra noticed it too.
Her brow furrowed, and a hint of displeasure flashed in her red eyes.
“Why are they doing that?” she muttered under her breath. “They dodge the moment they see you, as if you’re some kind of terrifying monster, Boss.”
Freya didn’t say anything.
She continued walking, her pace steady as usual.
As she passed the students handing out flyers, not a single one stepped forward to offer her one.
They turned away in unison, pretending to talk to someone else or looking down to tidy their stacks.
It was as if she didn’t exist at all.
Or as if she were an invisible barrier that everyone walked around.
Lyra stared at those people, her lips pressed into a thin line.
She could sense the subtle exclusion—not blatant malice, but a more hidden, more uncomfortable “isolation.”
Like a wolf pack in the mountains; when they decided to drive out a wolf that didn’t belong, they would do it this way—pretending it wasn’t there, pretending it wasn’t worthy of any attention.
It was more painful than a direct attack.
Subconsciously, she moved a little closer to Freya.
Then, she reached out and grabbed Freya’s arm.
Gently.
Like a small animal nuzzling a trusted companion.
Freya’s steps faltered for a moment.
She turned her head and looked at Lyra.
Lyra didn’t look at her, her eyes fixed straight ahead, but she didn’t let go of Freya’s arm.
That white head tilted slightly, leaning toward her shoulder, pressing close.
“Lyra?”
Lyra’s voice came from her side, muffled yet filled with a righteous confidence.
“Then I don’t need mutual aid.”
Freya said nothing.
Lyra continued, her tone carrying a hint of smugness and contentment.
“Because I have Boss to take care of me.”
Sunlight spilled through the gaps in the sycamore leaves, casting mottled light and shadow on Lyra’s upturned face.
Her red eyes were sparkling, curved into two crescents, and her mouth pulled into a wide grin, her small canine tooth glinting in the light.
She spoke so naturally and with such conviction, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Freya looked at her for a long time.
Students came and went around them, the flyer distributors remained busy, and the sun continued to dance on the stone path.
But in Freya’s eyes, there were only those sparkling red eyes and that unreserved smile.
She felt something stir gently in the deepest part of her heart.
It was very light, like a feather landing on the surface of water.
But it had certainly moved.
She didn’t speak. She didn’t respond to Lyra’s comment about her taking care of her.
She simply withdrew her gaze and continued walking.
Her steps, however, were a little slower than before.
Lyra held onto her arm, following her pace step for step.
As they passed the people handing out flyers, she deliberately raised her head and swept her red eyes over them.
There was no hostility in that look.
Only a nearly childish pride. ‘It’s your business if you dodge Boss. Having Boss is enough for me.’
The students handing out flyers felt a bit bewildered by her gaze, looking at each other in confusion, wondering why this white-haired girl was looking at them like that.
Freya took it all in.
A very faint curve appeared on her lips, vanishing in a flash.
—
In the distance, in the corridor of the academic building, someone withdrew their gaze.
Irina stood in the shadow of a pillar, her pink eyes as deep as a pool.
She had seen that scene just now.
She saw the members of the Mutual Aid Society avoiding Freya, saw Lyra clinging to Freya’s arm, and saw that moment when Freya turned her head to look at Lyra—in that brief moment, something seemed to flash across that eternally calm face.
Then she saw them walk away side by side, the white-haired girl holding Freya’s arm and holding her head high, like a little beast protecting its food.
Irina’s fingers tapped gently against the pillar.
Once. Twice.
She thought of what the Queen had said the previous night.
‘A breakthrough.’
‘A breakthrough…’
Her gaze fell on the two receding figures in the distance, on the way the white-haired girl held Freya’s arm, and on the natural, impenetrable intimacy between them.
She suddenly laughed.
The smile was light and faint, yet more unsettling than any other expression.
‘So that’s how it is. So that’s what it is.’
She had been wondering what Freya’s weakness was.
‘Background? She doesn’t need it. Status? She doesn’t care. Reputation? She doesn’t care at all what others think of her.’
Power, wealth, honor—the things ordinary people chased seemed insignificant in her eyes.
But now she knew.
Freya’s weakness wasn’t any of those things.
It was the silly girl beside her right now, the one clinging to her arm and being “taken care of” by her.
The smile on Irina’s lips deepened.
She turned and vanished into the depths of the corridor.
The Mutual Aid Society flyers were distributed all morning.
By the lunch break, students holding the light pink flyers could be seen everywhere in the Academy Canteen, gathered in groups of two or three to discuss them.