Chapter 59: The permissions granted by Ross

It was a relaxation she had never displayed in front of her.

Irina lowered her gaze, her pink eyelashes casting a small shadow under the lights.

She picked up her cup and slowly took a sip of the tea, which had already gone cold.

The icy liquid slid down her throat.

She set the cup down, stood up, and carried her nearly untouched tray toward the disposal area.

No one noticed her leaving.

Just as no one noticed how her pace became extremely slow and light as she passed Freya’s table.

Freya never looked up.

However, Lyra’s gaze suddenly shifted toward her the instant she passed.

Red eyes stared straight at her, without the slightest hint of avoidance.

There was no hostility or disgust in that gaze.

There was only a near-predatory, pure alertness—

Like the master of a territory staring at an uninvited guest who had trespassed without permission.

Irina’s eyes met that gaze.

One second.

Two seconds.

Then, she lowered her eyes slightly, quickened her pace, and disappeared into the crowd.

Lyra withdrew her gaze and continued gnawing on her biscuit as if nothing had happened.

Anke noticed this little interlude, raised an eyebrow, and looked at Freya.

Freya was still looking down, focused on drinking her fruit tea.

But Anke noticed that the fingers holding her cup were a fraction tighter than they had been a moment ago.

When night completely fell, Freya and Lyra returned to their dormitory.

Lyra clutched her copy of the Monster Bestiary and impatiently flopped onto her floor mat, flipping to the section she had not finished during the day to study it carefully by the lamplight.

She read very seriously, occasionally tracing the outlines of the illustrations with her finger.

Freya sat at her desk and opened the Starry Sky Legacy, but she did not start reading immediately.

Her gaze fell on the pitch-black night sky outside the window, remaining fixed there for a long time.

“Boss.”

Lyra’s voice came from behind her.

“Yes.”

“That blonde woman…”

Lyra paused.

“She doesn’t like you.”

Freya did not turn around.

“I know.”

‘If she had liked me, I wouldn’t have died in my previous life.’

“The way she looks at you—”

Lyra’s voice was muffled, as if she were struggling to organize her thoughts.

“It’s like…

Like a big spider I saw in the mountains once.

It wove a web and crouched in the middle, waiting for bugs to fly into it themselves.”

Freya finally turned around.

Lyra was lying on the floor mat, her face resting on her arms. Her red eyes looked up at her in the dim light, filled with a worry and stubbornness she could not quite decipher.

“Boss—”

Lyra said.

“Will you get caught in the web?”

Freya looked at her.

She looked into those sincere eyes, untainted by any impurity.

She remained silent for a long time.

Then she spoke, her voice calm, yet carrying a faint, almost imperceptible trace of softness.

“No.”

Lyra blinked.

“Because—”

Freya paused slightly.

“There is nothing I want in that web.”

Lyra was stunned for a second.

Then she smiled, her eyes curving into two crescent moons, and her small canine tooth gleamed under the light.

“That’s good then.”

She buried her face in the quilt, her voice muffled.

“Boss is the best.”

Freya did not respond.

She turned back around and reopened her book.

However, the corners of her mouth curved into a faint, nearly invisible arc that stayed a little longer than usual this time.

Outside the window, the night wind brushed past the tip of the Magic Tower, swirling a few fallen leaves that had drifted from who knows where.

In a window in the distance, a pink-haired figure stood before the glass, looking out at the same night sky.

When the morning light flooded the window sills again, Freya opened her eyes.

She had slept more deeply this night than in previous days. Perhaps it was because of fatigue, or perhaps because of a certain peace of mind she didn’t want to examine too closely—

Which came from the sound of steady breathing on the floor mat.

She turned her head.

Lyra was not there.

The bedding was neatly folded on the soft mat, the pillow was straightened, and even the corners of the quilt were carefully tucked in—

This was Freya’s habit, and she didn’t know when Lyra had learned it.

The sound of water came from the washroom.

Freya sat up, her light purple hair draped over her shoulders. She raised her hand to brush it back, her gaze falling on the excessively folded bedding.

‘One corner is crooked.’

But it was clearly the result of an intentional effort to straighten it.

She watched it for two seconds but did not move.

The washroom door was pushed open, and Lyra poked half of her head out. The tips of her white hair were still dripping with water, and her red eyes were bright.

“Boss, you’re awake!

I’m finished washing, there’s still enough hot water!”

Freya gave a quiet “mm” in response and stood up to walk toward the washroom.

As she passed Lyra, she smelled a fresh scent of soap—

It was her shampoo.

She paused her footsteps.

Lyra, completely oblivious, had already happily pounced onto her floor mat.

She pulled the Monster Bestiary from under her pillow and continued studying the part she hadn’t finished last night.

Freya walked into the washroom. Mist still lingered on the mirror. At her usual spot on the counter, the cap of her facial cleanser had been unscrewed and left aside, and the towels were folded neatly and hung on the rack.

Fine, she couldn’t take it anymore.

Freya’s obsession with cleanliness was acting up.

She had used this washroom for three years.

For the first time, she felt it was a bit cramped.

During breakfast in the Academy Canteen, Anke carried her tray and squeezed into the seat opposite Freya. Her brown eyes sparkled with the light of “I have a major discovery.”

“Guess what I saw last night?”

Freya took a bite of her bread and didn’t respond.

Anke was already used to this reaction and lowered her voice on her own.

“That Irina, she stayed at the Training Ground until very late last night.

She was alone—

All by herself!

She was there practicing Healing Arts.”

Freya’s chewing did not pause.

“The problem is—”

Anke leaned in closer, her voice even lower.

“The Training Ground closes at 9:00 PM.

I specifically went to check the registration logs. Among the people who applied for night training last night, she wasn’t there.”

Lyra’s ears twitched. She looked up from her plate, her red eyes narrowing alertly.

Freya still had no reaction.

But Anke noticed that for a fleeting moment, the knuckles of Freya’s fingers holding her cup turned slightly white.

“What are you trying to say?”

Freya set down her cup.

“What I’m saying is—”

Anke’s gaze turned serious.

“She either has a way to bypass the registration system, or—

Someone is helping her.”

Silence spread between the three of them for a few seconds.

“The Crown Prince.”

Lyra suddenly spoke, her voice muffled and carrying a hint of reluctant admission.

“That Blondie is helping her.”

Anke raised an eyebrow at her.

Lyra curled her lip, seemingly unwilling to continue, but she couldn’t help herself.

“I saw them yesterday afternoon.

Near the practice rooms, that blonde woman was talking to Blondie, and Blondie was listening very intently.”

As she spoke, she stabbed a piece of steak fiercely with her fork, as if the steak had offended her.

Freya lowered her gaze.

“Ross has authority.”

She said, her tone as calm as if she were stating the weather.

“As the Crown Prince, he can authorize anyone to use the training facilities without going through the regular registration.”

Anke’s brow furrowed.

“You mean he used his privilege just so Irina could practice secretly at night?”

“It’s not secret.”

Freya picked up her cup, her gaze falling on a void outside the window.

“It’s avoiding public attention.”

Anke was stunned for a moment before she understood.

If a Commoner transfer student was discovered to be able to freely use the night training grounds that only top upperclassmen could apply for, it would cause countless speculations and rumors.

The way to make all of this “legitimate” was to have someone with privilege step forward as a guarantor.

“Why does she have to practice at night?”

Anke muttered.

“There’s clearly plenty of time during the day…”

Freya did not answer.

But she remembered certain fragments from her previous life.

Back then, Irina was exactly like this.

During the day, she was always gentle, proper, humble, and hardworking, forever playing the role of the perfect “Commoner Genius” in the eyes of the public.

Only at night, in corners where no one was watching, would she reveal another side.

‘What was that side like?’

Freya closed her eyes.

—It was the cold smile at the corner of her mouth as she stood behind Ross and watched Freya being run through by a sword’s edge.

“Boss?”

Lyra’s voice pulled her back to reality.

Freya opened her eyes and met those red eyes filled with worry.

“You don’t look well.”

Lyra put down her fork, rarely stopping her eating.

“Are you feeling unwell somewhere?”

“It’s nothing.”

Freya stood up and picked up her tray.

“Let’s go. We’re going to be late.”

The morning classes passed in Freya’s usual tranquility.

However, Anke noticed that her note-taking speed was slower than usual.

Occasionally, she would stop, her gaze falling onto some point in space, staying there for a long time.

Lyra didn’t sleep either.

She lay on her desk, her face pillowed on her arms, her red eyes half-open as she thought about something unknown.

At lunch, the three of them met in their usual corner of the canteen as was their custom.

But today, that corner no longer belonged solely to them.

As Freya approached with her tray, her footsteps paused.

Beside the table where they usually sat, a person was sitting.

Irina Ewell.

She sat there alone with a simple lunch in front of her. Her long golden hair fell smoothly over her shoulders as she looked down, taking small sips of soup.

Sunlight streamed in from the side window, coating her in a soft rim of light.

Students at the surrounding tables occasionally glanced over, some whispering something in low voices.

Irina seemed completely oblivious, simply eating her lunch quietly and intently.

Lyra’s brow instantly knotted.

“She did it on purpose.”

She said in a low voice, small flames igniting in her red eyes.

“That’s our seat.”

Anke pulled at her sleeve.

“Keep your voice down…”

Freya stood in place, unmoving.

Irina seemed to sense something. She looked up, and her gaze met Freya’s.

Those pink eyes were filled with just the right amount of surprise, followed by a hint of fluster, and then an apologetic smile.

She stood up, her movements carrying a touch of awkwardness.

“Ah, Freya…

I’m sorry, I didn’t know this was where you usually sat…

I just saw it was empty, so…”

She paused and began to pack up her tray.

“I’ll get out of your way right now.”

More gazes from the surroundings turned toward them.

Freya watched her movements as she packed the tray—

She was very slow and careful, as if she were afraid of knocking something over.

As she packed, she continued to explain in a soft voice.

“I’m really sorry. I just transferred here not long ago, so I wasn’t very clear on these things…

I’ll be more careful in the future…”

How did that scene look to others?

—A fragile and humble transfer student had accidentally taken someone else’s seat, and upon being caught, she apologized in terror and proactively moved aside.