“Me?! A teacher?!” Seraphina was now utterly convinced that Decaroline had some mischievous streak. “I don’t have a shred of magic right now—how could I teach?”
Decaroline laughed softly at that. “Don’t be so quick to decide, Miss Seraphina. Isn’t your sister the Demon King? That’s what all the rumors say outside. Given how close you two are, even just subtle influence would mean your potential is far from ordinary.”
“She’s not my sister!” Seraphina blurted out almost instinctively, her voice laced with unconscious resistance.
The words hung in the air. She immediately realized her reaction had been too strong. She pressed her lips together and turned her gaze aside.
“All… right.” Decaroline’s eyes twinkled as she drew out the word, but she didn’t press further, graciously accepting Seraphina’s silence.
The word “sister”—along with all of Movira’s ambiguous words and touches—formed a tangled knot deep in her heart that she didn’t want to touch, let alone untangle.
The two sat quietly on the bench for a while. The rare tranquility was eventually broken by the academy’s leisurely tolling bell, signaling the end of morning classes. Only then did Decaroline gently pat the back of Seraphina’s hand.
“Time to head back for lunch. You need plenty of nutrition these days. If you’re feeling up to it this afternoon, I can take you to see the academy library… or anywhere else you’d like. It’s up to you.”
She added the last part thoughtfully, clearly mindful of Seraphina’s current state.
Seraphina nodded. With Decaroline’s support, she slowly stood and returned to the room that was serving as her temporary refuge.
When the door opened, warm air enveloped her once more. Beyond the glass wall, the garden had shifted back to its lush, verdant appearance.
Yet the additional figure inside the room made that warmth feel faintly chilled.
“Saint Eustacia?”
She stood by the bed, posture tall and straight, still clad in her white-and-gold robe.
At the sound of her name, she turned slowly. Her gaze first landed on Decaroline, to whom she nodded.
“Teacher.”
Then those icy eyes shifted to Seraphina.
Decaroline showed no surprise. She simply asked calmly, “Something the matter?”
Saint Eustacia’s gaze never left Seraphina. Her cool voice stated a fact as if it were already decided.
“Movira found the communication channel I set up. She demands to speak with Seraphina… and she’s very insistent.”
The sudden request tightened Seraphina’s chest. She knew she would have to face Movira again eventually, but she hadn’t expected it so soon.
Her ordeal hadn’t been Movira’s fault—not really. The main reason was her own overconfidence.
Even understanding that, Seraphina still didn’t know how to face Movira—or how to face those tangled, unclear emotions.
She stood in silence, offering no immediate reply.
“Now?” Decaroline glanced at Seraphina’s expression and spoke for her. “Miss Seraphina has only just returned. She needs rest…”
Saint Eustacia’s eyes remained fixed on Seraphina. “I’m only relaying the message. Whether to speak or not is your decision.”
Seraphina lowered her long lashes, casting a small shadow beneath her eyes. Facing Movira was something she could never escape forever.
She took a deep breath, lifted her head again, and nodded faintly. Her voice was slightly hoarse.
“…All right.”
Saint Eustacia said nothing more. She raised a hand, pure light gathering and stretching before her until it formed a floating mirror of light suspended in midair.
At first the surface was blurred, showing only distorted shadows.
Saint Eustacia and Decaroline each stepped back, giving Seraphina space.
The light gradually stabilized and cleared.
Movira’s figure appeared. She seemed to be in a room that wasn’t particularly lavish—but it was enormous.
The background was somewhat dim, yet she herself seemed to draw in all the light.
She looked different from usual. Still breathtakingly charismatic, still carrying the majesty of the old Demon King, but deep in those eyes lay unmistakable weariness.
And a sudden, blazing burst of joy.
“Seraphina!” Her voice came through the mirror, urgent, as if she had been waiting an eternity. “Are you… all right?”
Seraphina gazed at Movira in the mirror. Something blocked her chest—and her throat. The terror of the snowfields, the despair at death’s door… In the end, all those intense emotions were crushed beneath overwhelming helplessness.
She realized she was deliberately avoiding those topics. Just thinking about them made her exhausted—too exhausted even to vent.
Her lips moved faintly. A muffled sound escaped her nose. “Mm…”
Complaints and tears were replaced by hollow emotion. Movira visibly faltered.
This wasn’t what she had expected. Anger, grievance, fear—even crying. None of it appeared.
She had prepared herself for any intense reaction, yet she hadn’t anticipated this stagnant silence.
It frightened her more than any rebuke. How she wished Seraphina would truly scream at her—at least then she could feel some relief.
The joy on her face quickly faded, replaced by cautious unease. She looked at Seraphina’s pale, calm features and found no trace of pretense.
“You’re… angry with me.” Movira didn’t ask—it was a quiet statement of understanding. Her voice lowered further.
She blamed Seraphina’s coldness entirely on herself—on failing to protect her, on letting her leave alone that time, leading to disaster.
Movira knew Saint Eustacia and Decaroline were watching, yet she still spoke… words of weakness.
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t protect you. I shouldn’t have let you go alone…”
“No.” Seraphina cut her off, voice flat. “…It was my own fault. I reaped what I sowed.
“I’m just… a little tired.”
Movira fell silent again. Seraphina’s response rendered useless all the lines she had rehearsed with Lina’s help.
Those eyes—once so vibrant, now dim and almost vacant—pierced Movira’s heart like countless needles.
If possible, she almost wished Seraphina would beat her mercilessly. At least then she might feel better.
After a long pause, Movira seemed to steel herself. When she spoke again, her tone held none of the usual Demon King’s authority—only gentleness and something close to humbled compromise.
“It’s all right… If you’re tired, just rest properly…”