Chapter 74: Intercepting

As she spoke, she lowered her head, her shoulders twitching as if she were desperately trying to suppress her tears.

The sight would make anyone’s heart ache.

The crowd of onlookers grew even larger.

The whispers around them became louder and louder.

“Freya is being a bit too much…”

“The girl already apologized, and she’s still acting like this…”

“Nobles will be nobles, always looking down on us commoners…”

Those voices rushed in like a rising tide.

Ross looked at Irina’s pitiful state, the expression on his face becoming even more complicated.

He reached out and gently patted her shoulder before looking up at Freya.

“Freya — “

His voice dropped a little, carrying a tone that was almost a plea.

“Even if only for my sake, give her a chance, all right?”

The sunlight fell between the three of them.

Freya looked at Ross.

She looked at his face, which was practically screaming ‘I am doing a good deed.’

Then she looked at the pink-haired figure standing behind him with her head bowed.

‘In those downcast eyes, she must be beaming with laughter right now.’

Suddenly, she felt a little tired.

It wasn’t a physical exhaustion.

It was the kind of weariness that surged from the depths of her heart, a fatigue born of being sick of all the acting.

“Your sake?”

Her voice was very soft.

Ross froze for a moment.

Freya looked at him.

In those pale violet eyes, there was no anger, no sense of being wronged, and not even any disappointment.

There was only a calm that was almost transparent.

“Your sake…” she said. “What does that have to do with me?”

Ross’s face paled.

Freya didn’t look at him again.

She turned and walked in the opposite direction.

This time, no one stopped her.

Behind her, Irina’s sobbing grew louder, mingled with Ross’s low whispers of comfort and the hushed discussions of the crowd.

Those voices were like countless tiny thorns, chasing after her back and stabbing into the air.

She did not look back.

When she reached the end of the corridor and turned a corner, those voices finally faded into the distance.

Freya stopped walking.

She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.

Sunlight filtered through the gaps above, casting fragmented spots of light onto her eyelids.

It was very warm.

But somewhere in her heart, it felt a little cold.

It wasn’t because of him.

It was never because of him.

It was because —

“Boss!”

A familiar voice called out from ahead.

Freya opened her eyes.

Lyra was running toward her from not far away, her white hair bouncing in the sunlight, clutching a bulging paper bag of pastries in her arms.

She ran up to Freya and stopped, panting for breath, her red eyes sparkling.

“I woke up! I couldn’t find you, so I asked around. Someone said they saw you coming this way…”

She paused, tilting her head to study Freya.

“Boss, what’s wrong?”

Freya looked at her.

She looked at those red eyes full of worry.

She looked at that tiny, slightly exposed fang.

She looked at the paper bag in her arms —

The name of that dessert shop was printed on it.

“I bought you some snacks!”

Lyra shoved the paper bag into her hands and grinned.

“Honey Biscuits! They’re fresh out of the oven! I ran all the way here, so they’re still warm!”

Freya looked down at the paper bag.

A warm sensation traveled from her palm.

She remained silent for a long time.

Then, she reached out and gently rubbed the top of Lyra’s head.

“Thank you.”

Lyra was a bit dazed by the rubbing, but she still squinted her eyes like a small animal having its fur smoothed.

“Is the Boss unhappy?”

“…No.”

“Then why are you rubbing my head?”

Freya didn’t answer.

She withdrew her hand and continued walking forward, clutching the warm bag of pastries.

Lyra followed quickly, keeping pace right by her side.

After walking for a while, she suddenly spoke.

“Boss.”

“Mm.”

“When I was coming over earlier, I saw a lot of people gathered over there.”

She paused.

“The Crybaby and Blondie were there too. Are they up to something again?”

Freya said nothing.

Lyra looked at her profile, then at the pastry bag in her arms, her red eyes blinking.

She didn’t ask again.

Instead, she hurried her pace by a few steps and grabbed Freya’s arm.

She gave it a little nudge.

“Boss, what are we eating for lunch today?”

“…Anything.”

“Then roasted meat!”

“Mm.”

“Order an extra portion!”

“…Fine.”

Lyra smiled, her eyes curving into two crescent moons that were brighter than the sun.

Freya didn’t look at her.

But her hand tightened slightly around the paper bag.

In the distance, the crowd in the corridor gradually dispersed.

Ross stood in place, watching the direction where Freya had disappeared, a complicated expression on his face.

Irina stood beside him, tearstains still on the corners of her eyes, but her sobbing had stopped.

“Your Highness — “

She spoke softly, her voice heavy with guilt.

“It’s my fault… I’ve put you in a difficult position…”

Ross shook his head.

“It has nothing to do with you.”

He paused, as if trying to convince himself.

“She’s just… too stubborn.”

Irina lowered her head and said nothing.

But in a corner where no one could see, the corners of her lips curled up into a tiny arc.

Today’s step had gone very smoothly.

Freya’s coldness, Ross’s protection, the whispers of the people around them —

Everything was unfolding exactly as she had envisioned.

She lifted her eyes, peering through the gaps in her eyelashes at the two figures walking away in the distance.

The white-haired girl was holding Freya’s arm, and Freya hadn’t pushed her away.

That scene was exactly the same as last time.

Irina’s smile deepened.

‘A breakthrough point,’ she whispered in her heart. ‘I’ve already found it.’

When the morning light spilled through the window frame again, the floor bedding was already empty.

Lyra sat up, rubbing her eyes as she looked toward Freya’s bed —

The pale violet figure was still curled up under the covers, motionless.

Lyra blinked.

Then she blinked again.

She climbed out of bed quietly, walked to the bedside, and leaned over to look at Freya.

Those eyes, which were usually cold and calm, were tightly shut, her eyelashes casting faint shadows on her eyelids.

Her breathing was heavier than usual, and her brow was slightly furrowed, as if she were having a bad dream.

Lyra watched her for a long time.

Then she reached out, carefully and gently touching Freya’s forehead.

It wasn’t hot.

She breathed a sigh of relief.

“Boss?” she called out softly.

Freya’s eyelashes fluttered, but she didn’t open her eyes.

“…Mm.”

Her voice was hoarse, thick with exhaustion.

Lyra crouched by the bed, her red eyes filled with worry.

“Boss, are you tired?”

A few seconds of silence followed.

“…Yes.”

Lyra thought for a moment.

“Should I go buy you some breakfast?”

Freya finally opened her eyes.

There was a rare trace of dazed confusion in those pale violet eyes, as if she had just floated up from a very deep place.

She looked at Lyra for two seconds before slowly raising her hand, fishing something out from under her pillow, and handing it over.

It was her Meal Card.

Lyra took the Meal Card and held it in her palm.

“What do you want to eat?”

Freya closed her eyes.

“…Anything.”

“Then I’ll just buy something!”

“…Mm.”

Lyra stood up, walked to the door, and looked back one last time.

Freya was still curled in the blankets, her long, pale violet hair scattered across the pillow like blooming violets.

Lyra’s heart twinged.

She gently closed the door and ran toward the Academy Canteen.

There weren’t many people in the Academy Canteen; at this hour, most students were still in their dorms preparing for class.

Lyra squeezed in front of the window, staring at the steaming food and thinking seriously.

‘What does the Boss usually like to eat?’

She recalled Freya’s breakfasts —

They were always very simple: bread, thick soup, and occasionally a small portion of light salad.

She didn’t seem to like oily things much, nor did she crave meat for every meal like Lyra did.

But the Boss was tired today.

‘What should someone eat when they’re tired?’

Lyra tilted her head and thought for a long time before finally deciding —

Buy something hot.

Hot food was definitely best.

She pointed at the items behind the window, counting them one by one.

“This, this, and this… I want that soup too… and the bread should be soft…”

The lady serving the food watched the white-haired girl clutching a pile of items and couldn’t help but laugh.

“Little girl, are you feeding a pig?”

Lyra froze for a moment before seriously shaking her head.

“I’m not feeding a pig. I’m feeding the Boss.”

The lady laughed even harder, but she didn’t stop her hands, helping her pack everything.

Lyra walked back, clutching a full bag of breakfast with a satisfied heart.

As she turned the corner of the corridor, she stopped.

Someone was standing ahead.

She had long pink hair and a light-colored dress, with a few books tucked under her arm and that perpetually gentle, proper smile on her face.

Irina Ewell.

Lyra’s brow furrowed instantly.

She didn’t say a word, intending to walk around her with the breakfast.

“Lyra,” Irina spoke, her voice as soft as a spring breeze.

Lyra didn’t stop.

“I have something I want to say to you.”

Lyra still didn’t stop.

Irina took a few quick steps and blocked her path.

Those pink eyes were filled with a sincere smile, as if she were looking at a child who needed help.

“Just for a moment,” she said. “It won’t take much of your time.”

Lyra stopped.

She looked at the person in front of her, her red eyes devoid of any warmth.

“Speak.”

One word, as cold as a stone.

Irina didn’t seem to mind her attitude; instead, her smile deepened.

“You’re currently in the Academy as an Assistant, right?”

Lyra didn’t answer.

Irina continued, her tone as gentle as if she were caring for an old friend.

“Assistants don’t have formal student status. You can’t register for classes, you can’t take exams, and you can’t use most of the training facilities. To put it bluntly — you are simply ‘allowed to stay here,’ rather than ‘belonging here.'”

Lyra’s brow furrowed even tighter.

“What exactly are you trying to say?”

Irina laughed softly.

“I’m saying that if you’re willing, I can help you.”

She took half a step forward, her pink eyes overflowing with sincere kindness.

“You know about the Mutual Aid Society, right? We help commoner students resolve various difficulties. In a situation like yours, you can actually apply for special admission — as long as you have a recommender willing to guarantee your identity.”

She paused.

“I can be that recommender.”

Sunlight fell between the two of them.

Lyra looked at her.

She looked at that face, which was practically screaming ‘I am here to help you.’

“As long as you join the Mutual Aid Society — ” Irina continued.

“I can help you handle all the procedures. By then, you’ll be a formal student of the Central Magic Academy, just like everyone else. You can attend classes, you can train, and you can have a future of your own.”