Freya’s movements paused almost imperceptibly. She looked up, meeting Anke’s concerned gaze. A faint curve formed at the corners of her mouth, and her voice remained steady.
“It’s nothing, and nothing has changed.”
Her tone was as flat as someone stating an objective fact, devoid of any discernible emotion.
As Freya’s best friend of many years—having practically grown up together—how could Anke not see the intentional distance beneath that calm exterior? She sensed the subtle rift between them.
The more Freya downplayed it, the more Anke realized that things were likely far from simple.
However, she knew Freya’s personality well—unless Freya wanted to speak, no one could pry a word out of her.
Anke suppressed the urge to keep questioning.
She simply stared into Freya’s eyes with her lively green gaze and nodded firmly, her voice carrying unquestionable support.
“Fine, if you don’t want to talk about it, then don’t. But remember, if you need anything, you have to come to me! I’m definitely on your side!”
As she spoke, she reached out and lightly patted Freya’s shoulder, offering silent warmth and strength.
Freya felt the light tap on her shoulder and heard the conviction in her friend’s words.
Her heart warmed slightly, and she gave a small nod. “I know.”
Anke seemed to let the matter rest, but her natural curiosity and gossip-loving instincts quickly took over. Her eyes darted around as if she had remembered an important discovery.
She leaned closer to Freya, almost whispering into her ear.
“Oh, right, Freya. Do you know anything about that transfer student… Irina Ewell? I mean, what’s her background?”
Hearing that, Freya closed her open notebook with a smooth, natural movement. Her face remained expressionless as she asked a question back, pretending not to care. “Why do you ask?”
Her gaze shifted toward the podium, as if the inquiry were merely casual.
“I don’t believe you for a second!” Anke immediately saw through the “disguise.”
She lowered her voice, her tone filled with analytical certainty and an irrepressible desire to investigate. “During the last Inter-Academy Magic Exchange Competition, she was actually appointed as the Crown Prince’s assistant as an exception! You were there too; I don’t believe you didn’t notice! Not just anyone can be His Highness’s assistant, especially since he’s the type to look down on… cough, I mean, he’s a man with very high standards. Besides, Irina is just a commoner. She’s a commoner student who transferred from some remote place. Her background is a mystery.”
The more Anke spoke, the more suspicious she became, her brow furrowing slightly.
“She only transferred here a few days ago, right? Look at how listless the Crown Prince looked when he walked in just now. But I heard that two days ago, he had ‘chance encounters’ with Irina in both the library and the training ground. They even shared a long conversation, and his attitude… they say he was actually quite gentle. Isn’t that too fast? How could a commoner transfer student with no connections earn the Crown Prince’s favor and trust so quickly? I’m telling you, there’s definitely something fishy going on. She’s definitely approaching the Crown Prince with a motive!”
She finished with a firm nod, as if she had already seen through Irina’s true nature.
“Exactly, it has to be that! Maybe she’s after some benefit, or… is there an even more complex background?”
Anke’s guesses were wild, but her core point was clear—she held strong suspicion and wariness toward Irina’s sudden “good luck” and her rapidly narrowing distance with the Crown Prince.
Freya listened to Anke’s hushed yet energetic analysis.
Her gaze remained fixed ahead, but her eyelashes trembled ever so slightly. Anke’s intuition was sharp; she had even guessed part of the truth.
‘Irina certainly has a goal,’ Freya thought. ‘She has a deep mind and clever methods.’
However, Freya did not intend to reveal everything.
That would only drag Anke into unnecessary scrutiny and potential trouble.
She remained silent for a moment. Just as Anke thought she wouldn’t respond, Freya spoke in that same light voice.
Her tone held no praise or criticism, sounding more like a cold observation.
“She is indeed… very good at using her advantages. She also knows exactly when and where she should appear.”
The statement was ambiguous. It didn’t confirm Anke’s “hidden motive” theory, nor did it deny that Irina was unusual.
To Anke’s ears, however, it felt like a confirmation. Her eyes widened. “See! Even you say so! I knew she wasn’t simple! We have to be careful, who knows if she’ll—”
At that moment, the professor on the podium raised his voice to explain a key theoretical model, drawing the attention of most students.
Anke had no choice but to stop talking for the time being, though her eyes were still full of the intent to “chat more after class.”
Freya reopened her notebook and picked up her quill, appearing as though she had put all her focus into the lecture.
Only she knew that Anke’s words and her own observations were like two puzzle pieces drawing closer in her mind, sketching a clearer and more complex outline of the transfer student, Irina Ewell.
A clear purpose, soft methods, a talent for seizing opportunities, and… she seemed to possess an extraordinary understanding and a desire to manipulate the interpersonal relationships and power structures within the Academy.
Could such a person, appearing suddenly at the Central Magic Academy, really be here just to “study”? And was her approach toward Crown Prince Ross Castor as simple as seeking protection or social climbing?
Freya’s quill traced smooth rune diagrams on the paper, but her thoughts had already drifted deeper.
Beside her, Lyra had shifted positions at some point. Her head was tilted to the other side, and she was sleeping soundly.
She even let out tiny, rhythmic breaths, completely oblivious to the undercurrents swirling around her.
Freya glanced at her defenseless sleeping face, her quill pausing for a second before she resumed writing.
To Freya’s surprise, Lyra slept exceptionally deeply.
She slept through almost the entire morning theory class, only showing signs of waking up as the noon bell approached.
During the break, Freya had seen Lyra still dead to the world.
Remembering that Lyra hadn’t had much of an appetite that morning, Freya used the short interval to slip out of the classroom.
She went to the Academy shop and bought a soft little cake drizzled with honey and garnished with fresh berries. She brought it back, resting it on a piece of parchment by her side.
Watching Lyra lean against her arms on the desk, her thick golden eyelashes trembling slightly and her lips moving unconsciously, Freya knew she was about to wake up.
A trace of a faint smile, which Freya herself didn’t even notice, flickered in her eyes.
She picked up the small cake, which was radiating an enticing sweet aroma.
Instead of calling Lyra, she mischievously moved the cake right under Lyra’s twitching nose.
She even fanned the air with her palm, sending the sweet scent directly into Lyra’s nostrils.
The effect was instantaneous.
Lyra’s nose twitched instinctively twice.
Then, those tightly shut eyes snapped open.
Her red pupils were still misty from sleep, but that was instantly replaced by a sharp surprise, like a small animal discovering prey.
She sat bolt upright like a released spring, her movements so fast they created a small gust of wind.
Her gaze locked onto the sweet source right in front of her.
“Cake!”
Her voice was still raspy from sleep, but it was brimming with joy and longing.
Upon seeing the golden, moist cake and the bright red berries, her eyes sparkled as if they were reflecting an entire jar of honey.
All her previous lethargy and grogginess vanished.
Freya was amused by this incredibly swift reaction and sudden burst of energy. She found it both funny and cute. She stopped teasing her and pushed the parchment holding the cake toward Lyra, her voice carrying a hint of gentleness she didn’t realize she possessed.
“Eat this for now. We’ll go to the Academy canteen for meat at lunch.”
“Yay! Boss is the best!”
Lyra cheered and accepted the cake without hesitation. The way she ate was interesting. Her movements were large—she could take down nearly half the cake in one bite—and her cheeks puffed out as she chewed rapidly, showing a natural boldness. Yet, strangely, she maintained a peculiar kind of “etiquette.” For example, she didn’t let any crumbs fall, and she made no unpleasant noises. She simply focused all her attention on enjoying the food, every bite filled with total satisfaction and happiness, as if she were tasting some supreme delicacy.
A flash of light occasionally glinted off her faint little fangs.
Freya rested her chin on one hand, quietly watching her eat. Her mind, which had been occupied by the theory class and various heavy thoughts all morning, felt strangely relaxed.
Sunlight filtered through the window, warmly illuminating the two of them.
The air was filled with the sweet scent of honey, butter, and berries, mixed with the smell of paper and books, creating a simple and cozy scene.
However, cozy moments were always easily interrupted.
A soft, hesitant, and timid female voice sounded from not far away, carefully shattering the silence.
“Classmate Freya… is this… not quite right?”
The faint smile that had not yet fully left Freya’s lips froze and solidified.
Then, it vanished as quickly as a receding tide. The lines of her face became sharp and cold once more.
She slowly turned her head toward the source of the voice.
At some point, Irina Ewell had come to stand in the aisle next to her seat.
Her long golden hair was draped smoothly over her shoulders, and her pink eyes were looking at them—specifically, at Lyra, who was hungrily eating the cake, and the empty parchment by Freya’s hand.
Her eyes were filled with just the right amount of concern and a hint of disapproval, as if she were truly only speaking out of concern for a classmate.
She bit her lower lip slightly, her slender fingers nervously twisting the corner of her clothes.
Her voice remained soft and light, yet it was loud enough for several nearby students to hear.