Chapter 56: Speaking for whom?

It wasn’t with fists, nor with magic, but it was more detestable than fists!

She took one step forward.

Freya didn’t look back, nor did she make any extra movements.

However, Lyra felt an invisible, irresistible force stopping her.

She stopped herself abruptly, a very soft, aggrieved whimper escaping her throat.

Freya still didn’t look at Irina.

She slowly shifted her gaze to Sara, the short-haired girl sitting across from Irina, whose expression was currently quite exquisite.

That gaze wasn’t sharp or cold; it could even be described as peaceful.

But being watched by such a gaze, Sara felt an invisible pressure, as if she were being scrutinized by some silent, indescribable existence.

She opened her mouth, wanting to say something to save face, but found her throat tight, unable to utter a single word.

“Just a casual comment.”

Freya repeated those four words, her tone indifferent, showing no praise or blame.

Then she withdrew her gaze.

“Since it was just a casual comment —”

Her voice was still very soft, yet it clearly reached the ears of everyone present who had perked up their ears.

“— then it’s not worth a solemn apology. Student Irina doesn’t need to be so fearful.”

She paused.

“Only, next time, if there’s another ‘straightforward’ casual remark, I hope the speaker can clearly point out the subject. Otherwise, a vague reference like ‘a certain person’ makes it easy for others to mistake it for an insinuation.”

Her tone was calm, even sounding persuasive.

“After all —”

The corners of her lips rose slightly into a very faint curve, but there was no hint of a smile in her eyes.

“If it refers to me, but the person doesn’t dare to name names to my face, I would mistake it for — a guilty conscience.”

These words were like a thin and sharp ice blade, falling lightly with a smooth cut. No blood was seen, but it accurately dissected the bluster beneath Sara’s grand speech.

Sara’s face instantly flushed red, her lips twitching violently, but she couldn’t squeeze out a single word of rebuttal.

She looked at Irina as if for help.

Irina lowered her eyes, her face still wearing that aggrieved and patient expression. However, Freya noticed that her fingers, resting on her knees, were pinching her own fingertips very lightly, one by one.

That was a posture of exerting great effort to restrain her emotions.

Freya didn’t look any further and turned to leave.

Just then —

“Freya.”

A male voice came from the periphery of the crowd, carrying a bit of complexity and a bit of indescribable hesitation.

The onlookers automatically made way.

Ross Castor stood a few steps away. His short golden hair shimmered with a soft glow under the magic lamps of the Academy Canteen. His handsome face was tense, and his gaze crossed the crowd, landing straight on Freya.

A few lackeys still followed behind him, but at this moment, those people sensibly remained silent. The Crown Prince’s face wasn’t looking very good — not because of anger, but more like a dilemma of being caught in the middle.

He had obviously heard the dialogue just now.

And obviously, he didn’t know how to end it.

Freya looked at him without any expression of surprise.

Ross took a deep breath, seemingly having made some kind of decision, and stepped closer.

He first took a look at Irina — that look was brief, but Freya didn’t miss it — then he fixed his gaze on Freya’s face, his tone carrying a bit of stiff awkwardness when he spoke.

“I’ve heard what Sara said… Her words were indeed inappropriate. I apologize to you on her behalf.”

Sara’s face turned from red to white. She opened her mouth but didn’t dare to be presumptuous in front of the Crown Prince.

Ross didn’t look at her, only continued to speak to Freya, his voice lowered as if it were a whisper only the two of them could hear.

“You… don’t need to mind those words. The innocent remain clear.”

These words were spoken very softly, even with a bit of clumsy defensiveness.

The surroundings fell silent for a moment.

In an angle where no one could see, Irina’s lowered eyes narrowed slightly.

Freya looked at Ross for two seconds.

She spoke, her voice devoid of gratitude, moved emotions, or even the indifferent sharpness she had shown toward Irina.

She was simply stating a fact.

“I didn’t mind.”

She paused.

“And I don’t need anyone to apologize for me.”

Ross’s Adam’s apple bobbed once, as if some words were stuck in his throat. In the end, he only pursed his lips and said no more.

Freya didn’t look at him again, nor did she look at anyone else.

She turned and walked toward the canteen doors.

Lyra followed closely behind her, clutching her meat. When passing by Ross, her red eyes gave him an extremely unfriendly glare, and a very light, warning-like huff escaped her throat.

His Highness the Crown Prince had been glared at by a ‘stray dog.’

This scene was so bizarre that the lackeys behind him looked at each other, for a moment not knowing how to react.

Meanwhile, Irina still kept her head down, her slender fingers still pinching her fingertips one by one.

From an angle no one noticed, the corner of her lips — that gentle and harmless curve — was sinking down bit by bit in an extremely slow and hidden manner.

Like a setting sun, sinking into a cold abyss.

—

The canteen doors closed softly behind them, cutting off the prying eyes and whispers.

The afternoon sunlight spread across the stone slabs of the corridor, bright and quiet.

Freya’s footsteps were steady, the rhythm of her heels clicking on the floor no different from usual.

Lyra followed half a step behind her, holding the tray. The meat on it had already gone cold.

She stared at Freya’s back, at the ponytail loosely braided on one side, and at Freya’s sleeves swaying slightly with her steps.

She had many things she wanted to say.

She wanted to say that Freya was amazing just now, making that crybaby speechless with just one sentence.

She wanted to say that the Crown Prince was hypocritical — who wanted him to help apologize?

She wanted to say why those people had the right to talk about her like that when she hadn’t done anything wrong.

But she said nothing.

Because she saw that Freya’s back was held too straight. It was so straight that it didn’t look like she had just dealt with a hidden arrow, but rather like she had been fighting all along, never relaxing.

Lyra didn’t like that.

She walked a few steps faster to draw level with Freya.

Freya didn’t look at her, but her pace slowed down a bit.

“…Boss,” Lyra spoke sullenly.

“Yes.”

“Those Honey Biscuits —” Lyra said. “I didn’t get the other half of the plate.”

Freya’s footsteps paused for a moment.

She turned her head and looked at Lyra.

Lyra didn’t look at her, her eyes staring straight ahead. Her white hair looked fuzzy in the sunlight, but the tips of her ears were a bit red.

“They’re… quite sweet —” Lyra’s voice grew smaller and smaller. “It would be a pity to waste them.”

Freya looked at her.

She looked for two seconds.

Then, the corners of her lips, which had been pressed into a straight line, curved upward ever so slightly in an imperceptible arc.

“I’ll buy them again next time.”

“Oh.” Lyra nodded vigorously. “Then it’s a promise.”

“…Yes.”

There was a window at the end of the corridor where sunlight poured in, spreading a large patch of warm gold on the floor.

Lyra stepped into that light, her posture while holding the tray finally becoming less stiff.

She stole a glance at Freya’s side profile.

Sunlight fell on Freya’s eyelashes, shimmering with fine silver light.

There was no smile on her face, but that tense, distancing chill had thinned out at some point.

Lyra quietly gathered that light into her eyes.

She liked her boss when she was as warm as sunlight.

—

Inside the canteen, the crowd gradually dispersed.

Irina still sat in her original spot, the food in front of her almost untouched.

Mira carefully looked at her several times, wanting to say something but not daring to.

Sara had already fallen silent the moment the Crown Prince appeared. Now, she kept her head down and shoveled food, wishing she could bury herself in the tray.

“Irina…” Mira finally mustered the courage to speak. “Are you okay? Freya is just like that, cold and heartless. Don’t take it to heart…”

“I’m fine.”

Irina raised her head. Her face still wore that gentle and proper smile, but her eyes were slightly red, as if she were desperately holding something back.

“Student Freya is right. Senior Sara really shouldn’t have said those things. It’s only natural for her to be angry.”

“But you kept apologizing!” Mira said anxiously. “It clearly had nothing to do with you!”

Irina shook her head gently and lowered her eyes, her eyelashes casting fragile shadows on her eyelids.

“Student Freya is… an important person to His Highness the Crown Prince. I don’t want His Highness to be in a difficult position.”

These words were like an invisible stone thrown into the hearts of Mira and the other students who were still secretly observing, stirring up layers of ripples.

So that was it.

So Irina had been yielding and apologizing all along just to avoid putting the Crown Prince in a difficult position.

What kind of kindness and sensibility was this?

Mira’s eyes even turned red.

Irina said no more. She just picked up her utensils and slowly took a bite of the food that had already gone cold.

Her pink eyelashes were lowered, masking all the light in her eyes.

—

Ross Castor stood in the shadow of a pillar outside the canteen.

He had dismissed the lackeys who always followed him and was now alone.

The sunlight stretched his shadow very long, casting it onto the cold floor tiles.

He remembered Freya’s words.

‘I don’t need anyone to apologize for me.’

Her tone was so calm, as calm as if she were talking about something that had nothing to do with her.

There was no anger, no feeling of being wronged, and not even that faint, distant politeness from before.

There was just… no need.

Ross clenched his fist.

He remembered that when she first entered the Academy, Freya wasn’t like this.

At that time, although she was also quiet, she would at least give a polite response to his initiative to approach her.

When did she start wrapping herself in that increasingly thick ice shell?

He didn’t know.

He only knew that by the time he realized it, even getting close had become difficult.

And then, Irina appeared.

That girl was gentle, humble, and needed protection. When she looked at him, her eyes were filled with undisguised respect.

Being with her was easy. There was no need to speculate or be cautious.

She made him feel needed, and that he was being looked up to.

He thought that was the beginning of another possibility.

But just now, under the gaze of Freya’s eyes, which were as calm as a surface without a single ripple, he suddenly felt an unprecedented sense of emptiness.

Was his apology on behalf of Irina’s side really because he thought Freya had been wronged?