While the lingering echo of the ninth morning bell still rang in her ears, Villanelle had already been sitting in her Court Etiquette classroom for quite some time, her fingers unconsciously rubbing a corner of her uniform robe.
This course was an elective, but for all students who might step into imperial circles — regardless of their background — it was a mandatory requirement.
The professor teaching the class was Lady Margaret. She was over sixty years old and slightly plump, but her back remained as straight as a rod, and her gaze was piercing.
The classroom was quieter than usual, the air filled with a subtle mixture of anticipation and tension. With Winter Veil approaching, even the stone walls seemed to have absorbed the pre-holiday restlessness.
“Silence.”
Lady Margaret’s voice was not loud, but it possessed an unquestionable quality that instantly suppressed all the small whispers.
Her gray-blue eyes slowly swept across the classroom, pausing briefly on several students dressed in expensive finery before skimming over Villanelle’s simple, plain attire without any emotion.
“The Winter Veil celebration,” Lady Margaret began slowly, each word as clear as a stone falling onto ice, “is the moment the Empire displays its glory, unity, and divine order. It is also the opportunity for you — the future pillars of the Empire — to make your first formal appearance before His Majesty the Emperor. This is not child’s play, nor is it an ordinary banquet.”
She walked toward the podium and picked up a baton tipped with a golden crystal, tapping it in the air.
Ripples appeared in the air, and a three-dimensional model of the palace hall made of soft light appeared under the high dome of the classroom. It was complex and magnificent, detailed down to the folds of every curtain and the carvings on the candelabras.
Several students let out low gasps of admiration.
“The time: the day of Winter Veil, at sunset. The location: the Golden Oak Hall of the Imperial Palace. The attire — “
She waved her baton again, and the light and shadow shifted, reconstructing several sets of exquisite and elaborate formal wear for both men and women.
” — must comply with the regulations of the *Imperial Dressing Protocol: Winter Veil Chapter*. The length of women’s hemlines, the style of the cuffs, the height of the headpieces, and for men, the design of swords, the colors of sashes, and the decorative patterns on boot heels — none of these may be mistaken. Later, copies of the ceremonial regulations will be distributed, and everyone must memorize them.”
Villanelle’s heart sank bit by bit.
Every inch of fabric in the images of those gowns shimmered with the luster of expensive silk and magical thread. None of it looked like something that could ever appear on her own body.
The cuffs of the light blue dress she had used last year — which had been resized from her mother’s old gown — were already frayed.
‘I’m going to end up laughing at how poor I am.’
‘I’d better refurbish that old dress first…’
“At that time, members of the imperial family, cabinet ministers, high-ranking Church members, and foreign envoys will all be in attendance.”
Lady Margaret’s cold voice pulled Villanelle’s thoughts back.
“Your behavior, speech, and etiquette will be directly linked to your family’s reputation and the Academy’s standing. Any breach of etiquette will be regarded as disrespect toward the celebration, the Empire, and even His Majesty the Emperor himself.”
Villanelle sighed softly.
It seemed that she could not wear that old dress anymore; she would have to find a tailor to order a new one. No matter how much she refurbished it, the faded color of the old gown could not be hidden.
Lady Margaret paused, her gaze piercing the noble children who had already begun to exchange excited looks like an ice pick.
“I do not care how you privately plan to use this opportunity to curry favor with the powerful or show off your family background. Once you are at the celebration, you have only one identity: a student of the St. Tyriel Royal Magic Academy. Your behavior must be proper, your gaze must be respectful, and your words must be cautious. Especially — “
Her gaze swept intentionally or unintentionally over Villanelle, then over Leo’s little circle. “Don’t bring in any internal Academy personal grudges or childish tricks. That is not your playground.”
Leo straightened his back in his seat, a standard expression of submissiveness appearing on his face.
Villanelle lowered her eyes, staring at an old scratch on the rough wooden desktop in front of her.
‘Personal grudges?’ She only hoped she could remain invisible throughout the entire event, quietly enduring the night without attracting even a spark of attention, whether well-intentioned or malicious.
“Now, turn to Page 73 of the *Fundamentals of Protocol*. We will review the three-step bow used during an audience and the correct pronunciation of the blessing. Note that the rhythm of your breathing must be coordinated with your movements…”
The class continued in a suffocatingly oppressive atmosphere.
Villanelle tried hard to keep up with every detail, but her thoughts drifted uncontrollably toward the wardrobe in the Twilight Tower.
She needed money to commission a dress that looked at least presentable.
One hour later, the bell finally rang to end the class.
Villanelle felt as if she had been granted a grand pardon. She packed her books, paper, and pens, grabbed her cloth bag, and hurried out of the classroom, only to be stopped by a petite figure near a pillar in the corridor.
It was Emily.
She was holding a thick stack of books, and her hair seemed even more disheveled than last time, but her eyes sparkled behind her lenses. She directly handed over a roll of parchment tied with string.
“Here, these are some records I found that might be useful.”
Emily spoke very quickly, as if every word were chasing something. It seemed that whenever academic matters were mentioned, her speaking speed would become exceptionally fast.
“The lead from the *Dragonstone Secret Classics* was too isolated, with no other materials to corroborate it. However, I found three segments describing it in the *Personal Notes of an Ancient Beast Tamer*. All of them mentioned that certain individuals with ‘ancient bloodlines’ or ‘special encounters’ would exhibit a ‘mental communication tendency that differs greatly from the norm.’ Also, some folk song fragments circulating in the Northern Realm mention a ‘dialogue between shadow and light,’ which might be a metaphor for some kind of equal connection. I’ve circled the specific page numbers and key sentences in red ink.”
Villanelle took the parchment and weighed it; it was heavy. “Thank you, Emily. This is very important to me.”
“It’s just a trade.” Emily adjusted her glasses. “In addition, I have a new discovery regarding the Moonlight Moss records I mentioned before.”
“What is it?”
“The anomaly of the Moonlight Moss seems to… be related to the Mana delivery cycles in certain underground areas of the Academy. Generally speaking, the delivery is meant to maintain the operation of large-scale protection and lighting arrays. But if… the load suddenly increases, or if there are additional, unregistered extraction points…” She wrinkled her nose as if sniffing an invisible scent. “It could potentially cause anomalies in the Mana field on the surface.”
“So… what does that mean?” Villanelle asked hesitantly, feeling somewhat lost.
“It means it will produce some subtle Mana turbulence. If we compare the air to water, these ‘turbulences’ can be understood as undercurrents in the water. Creatures sensitive to Mana might become more agitated… but as for why this situation is occurring, I haven’t figured that out yet.”
Emily tilted her head slightly, her brow furrowed.
Villanelle did not press further and changed the subject. “Alright then. Are you busy? Do you want to go to the dining hall together?”
“No, I still have things to do. See you later.”
Emily declined the invitation and vanished down the end of the corridor in a flurry of activity.
—
Villanelle walked across Glory Square in front of the Academy Main Tower. With Winter Veil approaching, lanterns and colorful paintings were already everywhere within sight, and the number of patrolling professors and guards had doubled.
It had just snowed this morning, and several students on duty were clearing the snow.
She turned her gaze toward the distance. Under a giant tree at the edge of the square, a student was waving a staff, carefully moving a lantern onto a branch.
A thought suddenly occurred to Villanelle.
The Academy recruited hands to set up the scenes for major holidays like Winter Veil, and the wages were paid daily. Perhaps she could look into it?