In the remaining time of the festival, the two tacitly avoided the most noisy area of the central square.
They only strolled through relatively quiet gardens or lingered in front of some small but exquisite magic performances.
Seraphina had just recovered from a serious illness and couldn’t handle high-intensity activities. As evening approached, after the initial excitement, waves of fatigue assaulted her.
And just as they walked along a path leading back to their residence, the corner of Movira’s eye caught a familiar figure.
Without any hesitation, she immediately shifted sideways, using her own body to block Seraphina’s view…
At the same time, she gently placed her arm around Seraphina’s shoulders and quickly led her into a side path.
“Hmm?” Seraphina was puzzled by this sudden action.
“This way is shorter.” Movira didn’t give the real reason, as if she had just casually chosen a shortcut.
Seraphina blinked, not pressing further. She was thinking about what had happened during the day.
The first day of the Gratitude Festival ended like that for the two of them.
According to tradition, the festival would last a full three days, without leadership speeches or unnecessary rules. Just as Dekalorin had said, “It is a time to display harmony and joy.”
Back in the warm and quiet room, Seraphina felt so exhausted that her body was about to fall apart…
She forced down a few bites of dinner, washed up, and then collapsed onto the soft bed.
Movira silently cleared the dining table. When she finished, she saw that Seraphina’s eyes were already closed.
She tucked in the blanket corners for her, her gaze lingering on her for a moment, before finally turning and quietly exiting the room.
But the moment she closed the door, the girl on the bed slowly opened her eyes a sliver.
The academy was serene under the night sky, with roadside stalls from the day still set up.
Movira walked along the familiar path toward Dekalorin’s office.
Her footsteps echoed in the empty corridor. Her mood was far from light—she knew the upcoming conversation would not be easy.
Just as she was about to reach her destination and turn the last corner.
A sharp holy light suddenly flared, locking onto her throat.
Movira’s body halted abruptly, her eyes shifting to the long sword condensed from pure light elements now pressed against her neck.
The blade emitted a divine aura, scorching her skin and bringing waves of stinging pain.
She didn’t summon magic to resist, because the other absolutely wouldn’t kill her.
It was Saint Eustacia.
The other stood in the shadows of the corner. As a saintess, she now seemed to blend into the surrounding darkness, with only her eyes gleaming sharply in the dim environment.
“Movira.” Saint Eustacia’s words were like eternal ice, devoid of warmth. “You are a treacherous person!”
…
Movira remained silent, not refuting. She knew what Saint Eustacia was referring to.
Breaching the agreement not to use force in the academy.
“And for those who break their word…” Saint Eustacia slowly stepped forward, pressing the light sword closer. “This filthy head can only be chopped off without hesitation!”
Her voice exploded in Movira’s ear, resolute and carrying the weight of judgment.
Even sensing the killing intent fully revealed in the other’s words, Movira wasn’t panicked at all. She knew Saint Eustacia wouldn’t truly kill her.
And precisely because of that, the two had to engage in this verbal clash.
“Saint Eustacia, if I die, you know the consequences. If the Demon Realm doesn’t receive my instructions within a month… they will take it as a signal to wage war against humans!”
The air instantly tensed, like a bowstring drawn to its limit—release it, and it could claim a life.
The glow from the light sword illuminated Movira’s expressionless face and Saint Eustacia’s cold, resolute eyes.
Time ticked by second by second. Neither could do anything to the other; neither dared to make the first move.
In this standoff, a voice laced with helplessness and fatigue broke the deadlock.
“Saint Eustacia, put away the sword. She doesn’t count as a oath-breaker—at least… she wasn’t noticed by others. That’s enough.”
Dekalorin appeared at the other end of the corridor.
“Teacher!” Saint Eustacia frowned but didn’t retract the blade as instructed.
“I called her here tonight for something. If you two really want to fight… do it afterward. As long as no one dies, fight however you want. But not now. Sheathe your sword and let her come over.”
Saint Eustacia stared fixedly at Movira, then glanced at her teacher. After several seconds of standoff, with utmost reluctance, she snorted coldly. The sword dissolved into specks of starlight, scattering into the night sky.
The stinging pain at Movira’s neck vanished. She glanced at Saint Eustacia, said nothing, and strode toward Dekalorin’s office.
After watching Movira enter, Dekalorin turned to Saint Eustacia and gently waved her hand. “Alright, you can go back now.”
Saint Eustacia’s lips twitched, as if she wanted to say something, but under her teacher’s gaze, she finally nodded and turned to leave.
In the room, only Dekalorin and Movira remained.
The anticipated serious, perhaps even scolding, conversation didn’t happen.
Dekalorin pointed to the chair across from her desk, gesturing for Movira to sit there.
She herself leaned back into the wide armchair. The solemnity on her face was gone, replaced by a much more relaxed expression.
She didn’t beat around the bush and directly threw out a question that caught Movira off guard. “Tell me, how far do you think the ‘relationship’ between you and Seraphina has progressed now?”
Movira was clearly stunned, not expecting the other to ask this. After a few seconds of thought, she couldn’t form a clear definition.
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t know? Hmm, but I can see that your relationship has grown closer.”
Dekalorin picked up the hot tea on the table, her eyes on Movira.
“But it seems not the kind of ‘closeness’ you desire. In my view, Seraphina now treats you more like… hmm, a dependence and trust toward a strong and reliable sister.”
Movira fell silent, her lips pressed tight, not denying it.
She had vaguely sensed this herself—that closeness with a sense of propriety, trust laced with respect.
Not the fervent emotion she craved.
“It doesn’t matter.” Movira didn’t see it as a big issue. “As long as the relationship grows closer, that’s fine. As long as she’s by my side…”
“Does it really not matter?” Dekalorin interrupted her near-self-deceptive words, her voice piercing through. “Sisterly affection is deep, sure, and it can ensure she gets closer to you, trusts you. But you can’t stop someone else from intruding into… or occupying the place in her heart that truly belongs to ‘love.’”