Chapter 57: Ross’s Apology

Although the two brothers had just come out of the Disciplinary Room yesterday and needed to go out every day to receive their punishment, it did not stop him from keeping an eye on every stir within the Academy — especially regarding Freya, the Crown Prince, and that Irina Ewell who had suddenly appeared.

He had thought his brother would not be interested in these twists and turns.

But in the gap between another swing of his sword, Raymond suddenly spoke.

“That Irina — “

His voice was hoarse, carrying the heavy breathing that followed exercise.

“The one who brought us food last night.”

Willow was taken awake.

“Ah? Yes… yes, that is her.”

Raymond did not look back, swinging his sword down once more.

“She is close to the Crown Prince?”

Willow weighed his words carefully.

“It is said… His Highness the Crown Prince takes quite good care of her. In the last Exchange Competition, he even broke protocol to let her serve as his Assistant. Today’s incident in the canteen was also caused because of her.”

Raymond fell silent for a few breaths.

The greatsword hung in mid-air, not falling.

“That girl — “

He spoke in a muffled voice.

“When she delivered the food yesterday, she kept calling me ‘Senior Raymond,’ sounding very respectful.”

Willow did not reply.

Raymond slowly retracted his sword and turned around. There was no expression on his rugged face.

“But today’s incident does not sound like her style.”

Willow was startled.

“Brother, are you saying…”

“I am not saying anything.”

Raymond interrupted him, casually plugging the greatsword back into the weapon rack and pulling a cloak from the side to drape over his shoulders.

“I just feel that some people look soft, but might not truly be soft.”

He paused, his bell-like eyes narrowing.

“And some people look prickly, but might not truly sting.”

Willow chewed on his brother’s words, for a moment not knowing how to respond.

Raymond had already strode toward the exit of the Training Ground without looking back.

“That lunch box last night, I owe her for it. Remember the favor; the debt will be settled separately.”

His figure disappeared through the doorway.

Willow stood in place, looking in the direction his brother had left, and suddenly felt a faint sense of unease.

Irina Ewell.

He had originally thought she was just a chess piece that could be borrowed for use.

But now, the chess piece seemed to be moving on its own.

—

The afternoon class was not delayed because of the midday interlude.

Freya appeared in the lecture hall on time, sitting in the same spot as she had in the morning.

Lyra, as usual, lay propped up beside her, but this time she did not fall asleep. She simply buried her face in the crook of her arm, her red eyes half-open, thinking of who-knows-what.

Anke arrived at the very last moment before class started, sitting down next to Freya while huffing for breath.

She did not ask about the canteen incident.

She only took advantage of the Professor turning around to write on the blackboard to quietly slide a beautifully wrapped peppermint candy across the desk.

Freya lowered her eyes to look at it.

Anke stared straight ahead, looking for all the world like she was listening to the lecture seriously.

Freya did not say thank you.

She gripped the peppermint candy in her palm, her fingertips touching the tiny folds in the candy wrapper.

Outside the window, a bird flew past, casting a fleeting shadow.

Life had to go on.

Courses, exams, training, and assignments would not stop for anyone’s hidden undercurrents.

Freya opened her notebook. The first stroke of her quill was as steady as usual.

However, she did not eat that peppermint candy, nor did she put it down.

It lay quietly in her palm, warmed slightly by her body temperature.

—

On the other side of the classroom, Irina Ewell sat by the window, focused on copying the notes from the blackboard.

Her long golden hair draped softly over her shoulder, and her posture while holding the pen was elegant and serious.

The midday gloom seemed as if it had never lingered on her face.

Only she knew that the bottom right corner of the page she was writing on had been unconsciously traced over by her pen tip repeatedly, nearly piercing through the paper.

Over that name, she drew stroke after stroke.

Freya.

Dense.

Restrained.

Deep and bottomless.

—

As dusk fell, the Academy sank into the unique tranquility of a day nearing its end.

Some were burning the midnight oil in their dormitories, some were sweating in the Training Ground, some were organizing fragments of information collected during the day in the shadows, and some were staring blankly out the window.

Every piece on the chessboard was waiting for the next command.

Or, waiting for the day they would become the player themselves.

The night breeze brushed past the tip of the Magic Tower. The Starry Sky Legacy lay quietly on Freya’s desk, with a bookmark tucked into the page she had read the day before.

Lyra had already fallen asleep on the floor mat. Her breathing was even, and her eyelashes occasionally trembled slightly, dreaming of who-knows-what.

Freya sat on the edge of the bed, quietly watching her by the light of the desk lamp.

For a long time.

Then she reached out, very gently, and tucked in the corner of the quilt that had slipped down.

There was no moon tonight.

But inside the dormitory, there was the warm glow of the lamp.

—

When the morning light descended again, Freya woke up earlier than usual.

It was not because she was disturbed by a dream, nor was there any omen —

She simply opened her eyes, and her consciousness became as clear as if it had been dipped into a cold spring.

She turned her head, her pale purple hair sliding off the pillow.

Lyra was still asleep.

But her sleeping posture was vastly different from the night before.

The brand-new quilt had been kicked aside for the most part, and the soft cushion had been shoved into the corner. Its owner was currently curled up on the floor right next to Freya’s bed, her forehead resting against the wooden frame of the bedside. The entire quilt was wrapped around her body like a young, world-ignorant beast that had cocooned itself.

Freya looked down at the fluffy white head, falling silent for a few breaths.

‘She moved here in the middle of the night.’

She did not make a sound, did not ask, and did not even move.

She just watched quietly for a moment.

Then she lifted the covers, got out of bed, and stepped onto the slightly cool floor with bare feet, stepping around Lyra’s side.

The young beast inside the quilt roll let out a soft mumble and turned over, burying her face deeper into the blanket as she continued to sink into a dreamless sleep.

The faint sound of water came from the washroom.

—

The Academy Canteen in the early morning had not yet reached its peak flow of people; only a scattering of early-rising students were spread across the corners, eating in silence.

By the time Freya found a seat with her tray, Anke was already sitting there.

The breakfast in front of the brown-haired girl was untouched. Her spoon rested against the edge of the bowl, and she was propping up her chin with one hand, watching Freya with a look that said, “I have been waiting for you for a long time.”

Freya sat down opposite her.

“Where is Lyra?”

“Still sleeping.”

Freya picked up a piece of bread, her tone flat.

“She exerted herself too much yesterday.”

Anke blinked.

“Do you mean sleeping through the entire morning, eating a pile of meat at noon, or glaring at the Crown Prince too hard?”

Freya did not answer, nor did she look up.

But the buttered bread stopped for a brief moment near her mouth.

Anke sighed.

“Alright, alright, I will stop teasing you.”

She pushed the bowl of cold porridge to the side and changed to a more serious tone.

“I went back and did some checking last night.”

Freya’s movements did not falter.

“Irina Ewell.”

Anke lowered her voice.

“Every record before her transfer is a complete blank.”

Freya put the bread into her mouth and chewed slowly.

“The admission screening for the Central Magic Academy would not allow such a situation to exist,” she said.

“Exactly.”

Anke nodded, a sharp light flashing in her brown eyes.

“Unless someone used high enough authority to seal her entire past, or — “

“Completely erased it.”

Morning light flooded in from the window, spreading a layer of pale gold across the table between them.

Freya picked up her cup and lowered her eyes to take a sip of hot tea.

“Aren’t you curious about who did it?” Anke stared at her.

“Curiosity is useless.”

Freya set down the teacup, her fingertips lightly rubbing the rim.

“Since they could bypass the screening, it is not a level I can reach right now.”

Anke fell silent for a moment.

“You have a suspect in mind, don’t you?”

Freya did not admit it, nor did she deny it.

Her gaze landed on the tea liquid swishing gently in the cup. The light brown surface reflected her own reflection, blurry and calm.

Anke did not push further.

She simply reached out across the table and swapped Freya’s nearly cold tea for her own warm cup.

“Then we will talk about it when you can reach that level,” she said, her tone as relaxed as if she were merely discussing today’s weather. “Anyway, you are never in a hurry.”

Freya looked at the swapped cup of tea in front of her.

The warm steam rose, blurring the extremely faint ripple of emotion in her eyes.

“…Mm.”

—

The morning practical combat training course was held at the outdoor Training Ground.

The spring sunlight was gentle, the grass pulsed with fresh green life, and the young Magic Apprentices gathered in groups of two or three, waiting for the Professor’s instructions.

The air was thick with the slightly bitter scent of trampled grass.

Freya stood at the edge of the field, performing simple Magic Release exercises by herself.

A silver-white stream of Mana flowed from her fingertips, condensing into fine ice crystals in the air before shattering soundlessly and dissipating in the next instant.

Lyra, for once, was not lying down to catch up on sleep. Instead, she was squatting on the grass at Freya’s feet, focused on staring at an unknown small insect that had crawled out of the dirt.

The insect was covered by her shadow and spun in circles in a panic before finally diving into a gap in the grass and disappearing.

Lyra let out a disappointed soft huff.

Freya ignored her.

“Student Freya.”

A male voice came from the side, carrying a few hints of deliberate steadiness.

Freya did not look up immediately. She only fully retracted the residual Mana from her fingertips before slowly turning around.

Ross Castor stood alone a few paces away. There was no crowded entourage, no fawning lackeys.

The morning breeze ruffled his short golden hair and also moved his overly tense jawline.

Freya looked at him and waited.

Ross’s Adam’s apple bobbed once, then twice.

“…Yesterday’s apology — “

He finally spoke, his voice lower than usual.

“You said it was unnecessary.”

Freya did not respond.

“I know it sounded like I was making excuses for myself.”

Ross’s fingers curled slightly.

“But I want you to know, I — “

“Your Highness.”

Freya’s voice was calm, neither light nor heavy, as if she were stating a fact that had nothing to do with her.

“You have no obligation to explain anything to me.”

She tried hard not to think about the events of her past life, tried hard to remain calm.

Ross’s lips thinned into a line.

“I am not speaking to you as the Crown Prince.”

Freya looked at him.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

“Then — “

Freya spoke softly.

“As what?”

Ross did not answer.

He could not answer.

Because even he did not know.

Silence spread between the two of them like morning mist, formless yet tangible.

At some point, Lyra’s head had lifted. Her red eyes scanned alertly between the two of them, a low growl gathering in her throat that seemed ready to overflow at any moment.