"So, I've been assigned to guard the second prince."
After giving a brief explanation, Lillian took a sip of her tea. She then glanced at the woman sitting in front of her, trying to stifle her laughter but ultimately failing.
"Fufu~ you always continue to get roped into things, don't you? You really are such an amusing friend."
There, a beautiful woman with ebony hair and crimson eyes sat. She was wearing an unadorned jet-black mourning dress, which enhanced her beauty and mysterious eyes. Her name is Clera Remington. She was the wife of former Baron Remington; her husband died last year. A widow at the mere age of twenty. After leaving the Remington family in the hands of her stepson—who was older than Clera—she was now living comfortably with her servants in a villa at the imperial capital. She is one of the few friends who has seen Lillian's face.
Lillian had to comply with Louis's request, so she came to the Remington villa to vent her frustrations. The owner of the house—Clera—didn't actually listen to her complaints cordially. She was just amused.
"I'm not happy about getting involved in this. For goodness' sake, it's absurd to expect me to guard the second prince when he doesn't even want to be protected."
"If it's impossible, why don't you just call it off? If you please with your watery eyes, he might be willing to withdraw his request even now. To have the beautiful daughter of Islar begging him, he wouldn't ignore you, would he?"
"If I did that, he'd call me the Incompetent Witch instead of the Silent Witch. Besides, do you think I'll do anything to disgrace Anna, Cas, and Cian's faces?"
"Huh…isn't this usually the part where you say things like, 'To tarnish the Islar family name is…' Your love for your cousins sure is unwavering."
"Of course. I am who I am because of them."
"I'm sure your father would cry if he were to hear that."
"Aunt Sera would handle him if he did."
"Okay, okay. So, can you actually pull it off?"
Clera, who had been talking lightheartedly thus far, suddenly asked Lillian with seriousness in her eyes. She must be worried about Lillian in her own way. Lillian met her gaze directly and answered back.
"I can do it. No, I have to. Not as the Duke of Turin's daughter or the Countess of Magic but as Lillian A. de Islar. If it's for the sake of Castina Empire…"
"I thought you didn't care about the country for sure."
"I am grateful. I'm grateful to this country for giving birth to my loved ones, raising them, and watching over them. I am proud to be a citizen of this country."
"But you're not proud of your household?"
"Not being proud of myself is…well, it's complicated. You're no different, Clera."
"I suppose so…"
Clera lowered her eyes sadly. She had abandoned her family—House Wyler—due to her brother's family feud. She must have had something on her mind. Lillian couldn't bear to leave her friend with such a sorrowful look, so she cheerfully announced.
"To begin with, there is nothing that Lillian Islar, who is known for making impossible possible, can't do. I will perform my duty with pride, even if it means risking my life."
"Fufu, your confidence is so great. It seems my fears are unfounded."
"Well, I'm not planning on becoming a laughingstock."
"Then I will be waiting with bated breath to hear from you."
Clera's smile bloomed like a flower in spring, radiant and full of life. Lillian felt a quiet relief at the sight; her friend's cheerful expression had finally returned. Rising from her seat, she brushed the dust from her cloak.
"I have a lot of preparations to make," she said, her tone brisk but warm. "So, I'll be going now. I'll see you again during the winter."
Clera nodded lightly. "I'll be looking forward to it."
Lillian crossed her arms. "Just because I'm not coming to check on you doesn't mean you can live indulgently, all right?"
"If you're that worried about me," Clera replied with a teasing smile, "then hurry and finish your mission already."
Lillian laughed softly. "I plan to. See you soon, Clera."
"See you soon, Lillian."
With a brief farewell, Lillian turned and made her way toward the entrance. She was nearly out the door when a whisper followed her—soft, almost swallowed by the air.
"My days without you will be… terribly boring."
Lillian didn't catch the words. Only Clera heard her own quiet confession, smiling still—her beauty like that of a poisonous flower, lovely and dangerous all at once.
....................
Serendia Academy was named for Serendine—the Goddess of Light
and one of the Spirit Kings—in order to receive her divine protection.
Her staff and crown of lilies served as the motifs for the school's
emblem.
Originally, it was not the custom of royalty and nobility to send their
children to school. As the times progressed, however, more and
more noble children began attending educational institutions.
Serendia Academy was one such place.
Now there were many schools, including boarding schools and
schools for girls, but Serendia Academy held the honor of being the
first school attended by a member of Castina's royalty.
The Castina Empire had three elite schools in particular: Serendia
Academy, where members of the royal family went; Minerva's Mage
Training Institution; and the Temple-Affiliated University.
Among them, the University was most focused on law. Minerva's
areas of expertise were magic and magecraft. Serendia Academy, in
the meantime, excelled in teaching all subjects besides those two.
The academy had it all: first-rate instructors, an enormous collection
of books, and facilities and equipment befitting its noble-born
students.
Getting into the academy required a substantial enrollment fee and
donation, but students had a tremendous advantage finding work in
the court after graduation. Among nobles, being able to call yourself
a Serendia Academy alumnus was a status symbol.
It hardly needed to be said that those who had participated in the
academy's student council were viewed with particular awe.
Especially with the second prince, Felix Arc Ridill, currently serving as
the council's president, becoming a member meant a chance to be
chosen as his close aide.
Indeed—normally, becoming a student council member would
guarantee a secure future.
…So then why is this happening?! Aaron O'Brien cried out in his
mind. Aaron was the current student council accountant at Serendia
Academy. He stood in the center of the room, with the rest of the student council surrounding him. They'd been his fellows until just the
previous day, but now, they all looked at him as though he was a
criminal.
Tension filled the student council room, but one person was smiling:
a young man sitting in the president's chair with a fist to his cheek—
the student council president and second prince of the Castina Empire, Felix Arc Castina.
"Now then."
Two words from Felix were enough to completely change the mood.
Aaron's shoulders sprang up. Felix directed a smile at him—the smile
of a deeply compassionate saint.
"Our investigation has uncovered traces of tampering," began Felix.
"Specifically, a misappropriation of budget funds. And it happened
more than just once or twice… Isn't that right?"
His voice was gentle and exceedingly calm, yet so cold that it felt like
a knife stabbing into the listener's heart. Aaron remained silent. The secretary, a young man with brown hair and slightly droopy eyes named Elliott Howard, leveled a sharp gaze on him.
"Then you've lost count of how many times you misappropriated
funds?" he said. "…Because just from what I've found, the count is
more than thirty."
Elliott's tone was flippant, but his eyes were replete with disdain as
he watched Aaron. After Elliott, another secretary—a beautiful blond girl named Bridget Greyham—covered her mouth with a folding fan and remarked, "That is quite a lot, considering it covers only last year's general budget. But did he not also embezzle funds from the special
budget?"
At Bridget's words, a short boy with bright brown hair named Neil
Clay Maywood—their officer of general affairs—nodded. "Yes. We're
still reviewing the special budget, but there were signs of falsification
there as well, so there is little doubt. A preliminary count places the
combined total at…close to fifty instances."
Faced with one person after another pointing out his misdeeds,
Aaron clicked his tongue. How the hell am I supposed to remember
how many times I did it?! His collaborator had warned him he was
going overboard, but even so, he should never have been
discovered.
As Aaron maintained his silence, Felix, gentle smile still on his face,
began again. "We selected you for the student council at the
recommendation of my grandfather, Duke Clockford."
Student council members were appointed by the president. There
had been several who had used money in order to curry favor with
Felix, and by extension with his grandfather, Duke Clockford. One of
those who had offered quite a lot was Aaron's father, Count Steil.
That was why Duke Clockford had ordered his grandson Felix to
select Aaron for the student council. If he'd only done his job as
accountant properly, both his and Count Steil's futures would have
been secured.
Unfortunately, House Steil had contributed a little too much to Duke
Clockford, resulting in near-destitution. As a result, Aaron's allowance had been greatly reduced, and he had started embezzling student council funds for money to fool around with.
Damn it, damn it, damn it…!
Aaron ground his teeth and Felix's eyes narrowed. As the prince
passed his judgment, his voice was incredibly soft and ice-cold. He
meant to corner Aaron slowly and prolong his torment.
"I cannot levy any punishment greater than expulsion. However, my
grandfather will likely cut all ties with Count Steil."
Aaron felt the blood drain from his body. Everyone who studied at
this academy knew that behind the second prince was the most
influential noble in the kingdom: Duke Clockford. And the duke was a
coldhearted, merciless, and brutal man.
"It would seem your father sought the trust of House Clockford in
order to obtain loans. Oh, how sad. After this, Count Steil will be
unable to receive a loan from anyone, and your house will likely fall
into ruin."
Aaron's face became slick with sweat. I'll be fine, he thought. I
know it. I know they'll do something about this! He'd had a collaborator this whole time. He was certain they would pull some strings and get him out of this mess.
Yes… Erm, they'll, um…
But when he tried to envision his collaborator's face, he found that
he couldn't. At first, he thought it was only confusion due to his
current distress, but the more he tried to remember, the more
blurred his memories became. His thoughts dulled. His head swam.
Why? Why can't I remember them?
Aaron O'Brien had had a collaborator. He was sure of it. Pretty sure,
at least. They had conspired with him in exchange for half the
takings. And yet, he couldn't remember that collaborator's face, or their
voice, or their name—nothing at all.
"Ah, ah, ahhh…"
For some reason beyond his understanding, the memory had
completely vanished. The sensation was similar to the fear one might
feel seeing a gaping hole in one's body. Face soaked with sweat, he held his stinging head and began to tremble uncontrollably. His intense fear gave way to panic. Aaron was a breath away from losing it—and then Felix, with that saintly smile, delivered the finishing blow.
"…Do you understand? Your foolishness has caused the downfall of
House Steil."
Aaron could hear a thread snap in the back of his mind. He had lost
control. The inside of his head was hot. Really hot. It felt like the blood
vessels were being burned away—and he gave himself up to the
heat, shouting out as froth began to form on his lips.
"Shut up, shut up, shut up! The royal family are just…just lapdogs of
the duke!"
With all his self-control gone, Aaron jumped onto the desk in a rage
and tried to grab Felix. Before he could touch the prince, however,
one of Felix's aides waiting at the wall leaped into action and
restrained him. This young man with platinum-blond hair was Cyril
Ashley, the student council's vice president.
Cyril swiftly chanted a spell, then gave the command: "Freeze!"
Immediately, Aaron's feet were covered in blocks of ice. Now that he'd restrained Aaron with ice magic, Cyril's well-defined features warped into an angry glare.
"How dare you! Brutish remarks and violence directed at His Royal Highness… You deserve to die a thousand deaths! I'll turn you into an ice sculpture and knock you out the window!"
The ice covering Aaron's feet began to make cracking noises as it
crawled up each of his legs. At this rate, he would transform into a
full-body ice sculpture. But as the ice reached Aaron's knees, Felix interrupted.
"It isn't your job to deal with him, Cyril."
At Felix's command, Cyril immediately halted the progress of his
spell. Then he bowed his head to the prince.
"… I acted out of line, sir. Please accept my humblest apologies."
"You were concerned for my safety, right? Thank you for protecting
me." Felix smiled at Cyril before letting his gaze drift back to Aaron.
His eyes, sky blue with just a drop of green mixed in, looked
mercilessly upon Aaron. "Aaron O'Brien, you shall confine yourself to your dorm until official notification of your expulsion is handed down. You should have plenty of time to reflect on how much of an idiot you must be to have been outwitted by a lapdog of the duke."
"Ugh," muttered Aaron from trembling lips. His memories were rapidly growing hazier and hazier. He knew he'd had a collaborator. He was sure of it, but he couldn't remember…
No, no, no…Had he really been working alone?