Ross snapped back to reality, looking at Irina’s reddened eyes and her attempt at a smile.
The bit of awkwardness and displeasure he had felt because of Freya’s words dissolved into sympathy for the “fragile” girl before him.
He softened his tone.
“It’s not your fault, Irina. Freya… she might just not be fully recovered yet.”
He found a graceful way out for both himself and Freya, though he subconsciously ignored her cold attitude that had practically drawn a line between them.
Irina lowered her gaze, hiding the brief flash of darkness in her eyes.
‘Freya Christo Dale…’
‘She seems a bit different from the exceptionally talented yet aloof noble lady in the novel.’
‘But it doesn’t matter.’
‘What I’m best at is patience and disguise.’
‘One day, I’ll hold all those lofty things in my own hands.’
‘Including… that coveted Mana Heart Crystal and everyone around it who might stand in my way.’
‘I’ll make Crown Prince Ross mine.’
The sun remained bright, and academy life seemed to have just begun.
However, invisible cracks and testing had already been quietly etched during this seemingly ordinary break between classes.
The library was empty, as the academy had given everyone a few days off for the Exchange Competition.
At that moment, Lyra was sitting sloppily on a table, dangling her legs.
Her gaze was fixed on Freya, who was peacefully reading by a bookshelf.
The sunlight falling on Freya made her look serene and beautiful.
For the first time, Lyra felt that Freya was truly gorgeous.
At the very least, she lacked the arrogant attitude of other noble ladies who looked at people through their nostrils.
She was like a flower blooming in solitary pride, releasing her beauty all on her own.
Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen this young lady smile yet.
‘Is this person a poker face?’
‘She doesn’t even know how to smile.’
‘If the boss smiled, would she look even better—’
‘I wonder if she’s ticklish. What would happen if I poked her under the arms—’
Because Lyra’s gaze was so intense, it was difficult for Freya to ignore. She didn’t look up, only responding to Lyra with a question.
“What are you looking at?”
Without thinking, Lyra rested her chin in her hands and blurted out, “I’m looking at how pretty you are.”
Freya looked up and met Lyra’s eyes. Her gaze was as calm as a still lake.
She let her eyes linger on Lyra’s face for a few seconds.
That calm, wave-less stare caused Lyra to feel a rare heat at the tips of her ears.
The words had practically slipped out of her mouth. Only after saying it did she feel…
‘Maybe that was a bit too direct?’
Though she did think Freya was beautiful—a cold, distant kind of beauty like ice crystals under moonlight—she was completely different from the heavily made-up or falsely arrogant women in the Black Market.
“Cough—”
Lyra looked away and jumped off the table.
She pretended to have a deep interest in a thick book with a gold-leaf spine titled Ancient Dragon Tongue Rune Research, her fingers unconsciously twirling the ends of her long white hair.
“I mean, I’m surprised you can sit still, Boss. It’s so lively outside, and there’s that Exchange Competition… aren’t we going to watch? We might run into some ‘old friends’.”
She deliberately emphasized “old friends,” her red eyes glancing at Freya with a hint of mischief.
Freya closed the book in her hand — her movements were slow and steady.
Sunlight streamed through the tall stained-glass window behind her, casting a pale gold halo over her purple hair and long eyelashes.
It made the profile of her face look even more sharply defined, even somewhat indifferent.
Freya looked at Lyra, who was trying to pin her gaze on a strange book on the opposite shelf titled The Cooking and Medicinal Value of Crypt Worms.
There seemed to be a suspicious faint red still lingering on her earlobes.
“The Exchange Competition is the day after tomorrow.”
Freya’s voice sounded exceptionally clear in the empty library.
“But before that, I need to confirm a few things.”
Her fingertips brushed the edge of the page she had just been reading, which contained obscure discourse on Ancient Contract Magic and soul bonds.
“Besides, the academy is on break. It’s quiet here,” she added, offering an explanation for choosing the library over her mansion.
Lyra jumped down from the table, landing silently.
She paced over to Freya’s side, tilting her head to see the cover of the closed book — A Study of Soul Imprints and Ancient Oaths.
She had little interest in such profound theories, but she keenly caught the keyword in Freya’s words.
“Confirming things?”
Lyra’s red eyes blinked.
“About that blonde boy? Or the crybaby?”
Her intuition had always been as sharp as a beast’s.
Freya didn’t deny it, simply sliding the book back into its place on the shelf.
“Ross Castor is a prospective wielder of the Holy Sword and a primary focus of the Royal Academy’s training. Irina Ewell is, on the surface, a genius specially recruited from a remote area with rare Light Affinity.”
She turned around and leaned against the tall bookshelf.
Her gaze seemed to pierce through the layers of books, looking toward an unknown distance.
“But their appearance, and their possible connection, forces me to make more preparations.”
“The Holy Sword?”
Lyra chewed on the word.
The usual cynicism on her face faded slightly, replaced by a rare look of wariness.
“The one from the legends that can purify all darkness and cut through evil?”
“So the legends say.”
Freya’s tone carried a trace of imperceptible mockery.
In her past life, that Holy Sword had been stained with her blood.
It had been used to strip away her heart crystal; that could hardly be called “purification.”
“But a weapon itself has no good or evil. The key lies in the wielder’s heart.”
She looked at Lyra.
“You seem to… have a reaction to the Holy Sword?”
Lyra shrugged, returning to her nonchalant self.
“I’ve just heard some stories. They say that thing is sensitive to certain ‘traits’.”
She didn’t explicitly say what those traits were, but Freya thought of her superhuman agility, her eerie fighting style, and that phrase she used when she first saw Ross: “So it’s you—.”
Her suspicions deepened.
“Ross will definitely represent the Royal Academy in the Exchange Competition the day after tomorrow.”
Freya changed the subject.
“I need you to observe him closely. Not just his combat techniques, but the power he uses, his resonance with the Holy Sword—if he carries it or uses a replica—and even… whether there are unusual auras or observers around him.”
This wasn’t just scouting for revenge; it was to investigate the truth that might be hidden behind the tragedy of her past life—a truth that perhaps transcended personal grudges.
“Leave it to me.”
Lyra patted her chest, then flashed a sly smile.
“So, Boss, since I’m working so hard, is there an extra reward? For example…”
She dragged out her words.
“For example, exempting you from your dance lessons?”
Freya easily saw through her thoughts.
“Boss is wise!” Lyra’s eyes lit up.
“In your dreams.”
Freya ruthlessly shattered her fantasy.
“Basic social etiquette and dancing are mandatory. However…”
She paused, looking at Lyra’s instantly fallen face.
The corners of her lips curled up ever so slightly.
“If your ‘observations’ at the Exchange Competition are valuable enough, I might consider having the teacher reduce the practice time for the waltz.”
“Really?!”
Lyra immediately perked up again, as if she could already see the dawn of escaping those annoying spinning steps.
“Don’t you worry! I guarantee I’ll even count how many strands of hair that kid loses every day!”
Freya remained noncommittal about her exaggerated promise and turned toward another section of bookshelves.
“Besides Ross, there are others to watch out for. The Royal Academy’s entry list this time includes several individuals with complex backgrounds who might be involved with certain hidden factions. I have some preliminary data here. Take it and memorize it.”
She took several pages of parchment from her small spatial bag and handed them to Lyra.
Lyra took them and did a quick scan.
They contained names, family relationships, assessments of known abilities, and blurred notations of suspicious points.
“Understood. These guys… they look much more interesting than the crybaby.”
She folded the documents and tucked them into her shirt with a practiced motion.
The two stayed in the library for a while longer.
Freya continued to look up books on energy stabilization and magic shield reinforcement to prepare for any potential emergencies.
Lyra, bored out of her mind, flipped through some records of continental anecdotes and an encyclopedia of magical beasts.
Occasionally, she would point at a gruesome illustration and say something startling like, “Tch, this one looks delicious,” earning a helpless glance from Freya.
As the shadows lengthened, the light in the library gradually dimmed.
Freya finally finished taking notes from the last reference material she needed.
“Let’s go.”
She tidied up the desk.
“Yay, food time!” Lyra responded immediately.
“…Are you actually hungry, or were you just bored?”
“Both! Boss! I want meat!”
“…Don’t blame me when you turn into a ball of fat.”
The two walked out of the library, the evening breeze carrying a cool chill.
The academy was still quiet, as most students had left campus to enjoy the holiday.
“By the way, Boss—”
Lyra suddenly remembered something and leaned in to ask.
“You said earlier that you needed to confirm some things… besides those two, did that include me?”
She asked bluntly, her red eyes staring unblinkingly at Freya with a hint of inquiry and an indescribable expectation.
Freya’s footsteps paused slightly, and she glanced sideways at her.
The afterglow of the setting sun gilded Lyra’s white hair with gold. Her eyes appeared exceptionally bright in the twilight.
“You are the ‘assistant’ and ‘partner’ I chose, Lyra.”
Freya’s voice was as calm as usual, but it carried a trace of solemnity that was hard to detect.
“I admit, there are many mysteries surrounding you. But at least for now, our contract and goals are aligned. As long as that alignment remains unchanged, I will naturally give you the corresponding trust.”
She didn’t directly answer “yes” or “no,” but the honesty and the clear sense of boundaries in her words caused Lyra to daze for a moment.
‘Trust…?’
Lyra savored the word.
For someone like her who had wandered in the darkness for so long, the word was both foreign and possessed a strange warmth.
She suddenly grinned, her smile losing some of its cynicism and appearing somewhat genuine.
“All right, Boss. For the sake of that ‘partner’ comment—and for reducing the waltz practice—just watch me the day after tomorrow!”