Lindsey Pail sat at her desk in the faculty room, head buried in her hands.
As the instructor in charge of ballroom dancing—an indispensable social skill for young nobles—her job was usually straightforward. Students entering Serendia Academy typically had some grounding in dance already. Some were stiff, some lacked rhythm, and some tripped over their own feet, but at the very least, they understood the fundamentals. Because of that, Lindsey rarely faced any real difficulty. Even the worst dancers could be polished with time.
But this year… this year was different.
This year, she had one catastrophe masquerading as a student.
A second-year in the advanced course, and somehow entirely devoid of even the most basic understanding of form, posture, or rhythm. When she had asked him to demonstrate what he knew, the spectacle that unfolded—whatever it was—could not, in good conscience, be classified as dancing. His classmates had gaped. Lindsey herself had felt her soul leave her body. It was chaos. Pure, unrefined chaos.
That disaster had a name: Glenn Dudley.
........
"I think we're going a little too slow for this tempo, so it's time to speed up!"
"No—Glenn, don't you dare—!"
The moment classes ended, the dance room was flooded with the bellow of an overexcited boy and the sharply controlled distress of a girl who was desperately trying to maintain her composure.
Glenn doubled his tempo, stomping enthusiastically across the floor—while Lillian, his unfortunate partner, was pulled along with the grace of a dignified cat being dragged through a thunderstorm.
"And now we turn!"
Glenn, broad-shouldered and obliviously powerful, spun Lillian with the enthusiasm of a child throwing a baton. The result was not a dance. It was a large, energetic dog dragging its well-mannered owner around the yard while she tried, with every ounce of dignity, not to die.
At the piano, Neil finally snapped.
"Excuse me! Please stop! Stop right now!"
Glenn stopped instantly.
His momentum did not.
Lillian's body tilted, spun twice, and—without a sound—she crumpled to the floor in a tidy heap.
"Lilliannaaaaa!" Glenn wailed, scooping her up in his arms. He shook her wildly. "Ahhhh! I'm sorry! Are you okay?!"
Lillian lifted one trembling finger.
"Glenn… stop shaking… unless you want me to diagnose you with a traumatic brain injury next."
Her tone was steady—miraculously—but her eyes were unfocused, her balance utterly destroyed by Glenn's improvised tornado. Being shaken like a maraca was not helping; her head lolled, and she went limp with the resigned elegance of a woman who had already accepted her fate.
Against the wall, Lana had watched the entire disaster unfold. She sighed, her flaxen hair swaying.
"…That was somehow even worse than in class," she muttered.
Serendia Academy's dance lessons were held with two classes at once, and partners were normally assigned by the instructor. Ms. Pail had paired Lillian with Glenn—likely because they were both transfer students, and she wanted to gauge their base skill level.
She had certainly gauged it.
And she had discovered, in vivid detail, that Glenn Dudley was not a beginner.
He was a natural phenomenon.
Thankfully, Lillian passed the class the moment she switched partners from Glenn to Neil. Glenn, on the other hand, had been sentenced to a retest. And if he failed the retest, he would be taking makeup classes every day after school until the academy festival. In the worst-case scenario, he might even end up in special sessions over winter break.
A fate truly worse than death—for Glenn, at least.
"Oof… my head is still spinning…"
Having finally regained consciousness, Lillian sat on the polished floor, fingers pressed to her temples in an attempt to stabilize her sense of balance. Lana crouched beside her, worry etched on her face.
"Lillian, are you okay? Can you stand?"
"Oh… yes. I think… I'm fine." Her voice was steady, but her eyes still weren't pointing in the same direction.
After soothing the dazed Lillian, Lana rounded on Glenn.
"I knew there were bad dancers, but you… you're something else entirely. What was that?"
"Well, Ms. Pail said boys are supposed to take the lead," Glenn explained earnestly, "so I tried to take the lead in my own way. I just don't get where it went wrong."
"Your 'own way,'" Lana echoed flatly, staring at him as if he had invented a new category of danger. Glenn's idea of leading had essentially been weaponizing a dance partner.
Neil let out a dry laugh. "There's a pretty big difference between taking the lead and… uh… flinging your partner around like a parade flag."
"You know," Glenn continued with baffling confidence, "I thought about it, and Ms. Pail's dancing is super sharp and precise, right? So I think that's what I'm missing!"
Neil pinched the bridge of his nose. "Glenn, I think there's something a little more important than that."
He wasn't wrong. Glenn's physical abilities were superb—he simply performed them according to the rhythm of whatever mysterious music was playing exclusively in his head.
Lillian, Lana, and Neil—his long-suffering, unofficial instructors—exchanged the collective sigh of people preparing for battle.
"For now," Lillian said calmly, rising to her feet with medical-officer dignity despite her legs wobbling like jelly, "let's change partners. We'll work through the basics until you get the steps down. Slowly. Very slowly."
Glenn nodded, determination blazing in his eyes.
Lillian silently prayed to every medical deity she knew.
....
The tinkle of a piano echoed faintly down the hall. On her way past the dance room, Lindsey Pail paused and peeked through the narrow gap of the door.
…My, my, my.
Inside, she saw three students practicing: Glenn Dudley, sweating through his shirt; Neil at the piano; and Lillian, gently correcting Glenn's posture with steady patience.
Lillian—who had already passed her exam earlier that afternoon.
Despite being safe herself, she was still staying behind, diligently helping the classmate who had nearly flung her into orbit an hour prior.
Compared to her first collapse from Glenn's wild "leadership," she now stood firm, calm, and determined to see him through. Glenn's dancing, however, remained… deeply concerning.
Their movements were clumsy—embarrassingly so. But that was exactly how Lindsey herself had once been, sneaking in solitary lessons at her own all-girls school after ignoring every piece of advice her older sister had given her.
At least Lillian isn't alone. At least someone is helping him.
And that alone warmed Lindsey's heart.
"...Hee-hee."
With a small smile, she closed the door silently.
........
"I heard from Officer Maywood that you were practicing dance," Felix said with an easy smile when Lillian arrived late to the student council room.
Ah—Neil must have told him.
She had forgotten entirely to warn him she'd be late, but Neil always followed through on that sort of thing.
Everyone was present except for Elliott, who was out investigating the real Abbott Company.
"How did the practice go?" Felix asked Neil next. "Will Glenn manage to pass his retest?"
Neil hesitated. His pupils wobbled. Sweat gathered near his temple.
"U-umm… I—it really depends on… how much more he works."
"Prince," Cyril said sharply from his desk, "if even Officer Maywood is phrasing it that politely, then Dudley's dancing must be a complete disaster."
Glancing at Lillian, he added bluntly, "You passed already, didn't you? And you're still exhausted. That alone tells me everything I need to know."
Lillian wilted. It was true. Even after passing with Neil as her partner, helping Glenn was physically and mentally draining.
Bridget snapped open her folding fan, eyeing Lillian like a disappointed aristocrat spotting a stain on a carpet.
"To think even with Lady Norton's assistance, his progress is that minimal. Truly shameful. Why can't he simply show some refinement?"
"I-It's not his fault…" Lillian murmured. "Glenn is trying very hard."
"In his own uniquely hazardous way," Cyril muttered.
Neil nodded desperately. "R-really! He is! He's putting in all his effort!"
Bridget closed her fan with a crisp click and turned to Felix.
"Sir, it reflects poorly on the academy if one of our students cannot perform the simplest of ballroom basics. What do you intend to do if he fails again?"
Lillian tensed. Glenn had been nothing but chaotic, overly enthusiastic, and occasionally life-threatening… But he was earnest. And if he failed because she couldn't guide him well enough—
Felix, however, simply smiled.
"There's no need to worry. Lillian and Officer Maywood will guide him properly. I trust them."
Lillian froze.
M-me? Guide Glenn? Properly?!
Felix leaned toward her just slightly. "Lady Lillian, I have high hopes for you."
"N-no, wait—I'm not actually the one being tested—"
Cyril cut in, deadpan. "Judging by Dudley's form, you may as well be."
Lillian deflated.
"I'll… I'll try my best…" she whispered.
Neil quietly raised a hand. "If it helps, I'll also… um… make sure Glenn doesn't throw Lady Lillian again…"
Cyril frowned. "That should not be a necessary clarification."
"Y-yes… sorry…"
Bridget sighed dramatically. "At least try to make him lead without endangering your life."
Lillian's shoulders sank.
..............
Lillian collapsed onto her tiny bed like a puppet whose strings had been severed.
"Uuuugh… my entire body is jelly."
A soft thump landed on the blankets near her head. Nero, a sleek black cat with fur so glossy it reflected the lamplight like obsidian, stared at her with unimpressed golden eyes. He flicked his tail once.
"Tragic," he said in his smooth, bored voice. "Truly, the downfall of a prodigy."
Lillian pressed her face into the pillow. "Stop narrating my misery…"
"It narrates itself," Nero replied, stepping onto her back and settling down. He kneaded twice—painfully—and then lay across her shoulder blades. "I'm merely providing commentary."
"Ow—Nero—your claws!"
"They are retracted," he said blandly. "If they were out, you would no longer possess a spine."
Lillian groaned into the pillow again.
Nero yawned, ears flicking. "I reviewed your dancing today."
She stiffened. "H-how bad was it…?"
"In the interest of kindness," he said, "let us say Glenn is lucky toes regenerate."
"NERO!"
He stared down at her coolly. "You asked."
She flopped onto her side, forcing him to nimbly hop off the bed and land with a soft tap on the wooden floor. He paced, tail swaying in elegant arcs.
"The boy survived," Nero added. "Although his future ability to walk without flinching remains uncertain."
"That's not helping…"
"I'm not here to help," he stated. "I'm here to observe your questionable decisions and provide superior insight."
Lillian rubbed her legs, wincing at the soreness. "Tomorrow's practice will be better… I hope."
Nero hopped back onto the bed, circling once before curling beside her hip.
"Hm. Based on today?" he said. "No."
She pouted. "Aren't you supposed to encourage me?"
"I am encouraging." He blinked languidly. "Encouraging realistic expectations."
Then his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Can't you sold the whole problem real easy with a little magecraft? You can use it without chanting, remember? Just use a spell that makes that loud boy a good dancer and don't tll anyone."
A spell that made one a good dancer...How convenient it would be if such a thing existed! Unfortunately, magecraft isn't a solution to everything.
"Listen, Nero," she began. "You could theoretically manipulate your body and force it to take certain actions, but...that type of magecraft is forbidden in this country."
"You me like that...that thing from before. Mental interference or whatever?"
"Mental interference magecraft is permitted under certain conditions, but bodily manipulation magecraft is completely forbidden. It has an even stricter penalty."
Any magecraft that moved a person's body or temporarily strengthened their muscles...basically anything that affected a human body, was outright forbidden in Castina Empire. The reason was that human bodies had no resistance to mana, so using such spells ran the risk of side effects like mana poisoning. Healing magecraft was forbidden for the same reason.
At Lillian's explanation, Nero's whiskers twitched. "Hm, wait. In this country? Can you use this stuff in other countries?"
"So far, there's only one exception..." Lillian paused, before tightening her fists in her lap. "...The Kingdom of Ingrassia to the east."
Ingrassia, which lay across Castina's eastern border, is the second largest nation on the continent. They are currently in the midst of a civil war, debaiting which prince should inherit the throne. One of those candidates, the second prince, loath old traditions and was implementing one new policy after another. One of his measures had been to lift the ban on curative magecraft. He had, on a limited basis, permitted rearch into bodily manipulation magecraft.
Above all, though, it was the lifting of the ban on healing magecraft that most influenced mages from other nations. Recently, more and more of them had been leaving their stricter home countries to
move to Ingrassia. The outflow of talented mages to other nations was a difficult issue for every country, and it had been a topic of discussion at the Seven Sages' conferences several times already.
"Man, humans sure have a lot of stuff going on," said Nero profoundly, closing the book.
..............
The next day, two more people came to watch the after-school dance practice.
Namely, Felix and Cyril.
When they appeared, Lana's cheeks flushed and she gave a sharp, "Eek!"
Lillian's cheeks went white, but she maintained her posture, silently screaming on the inside. Neil looked concerned, and Glenn—naturally—just grinned and said:
"Oh, it's the prez!"
Nothing intimidated him, apparently.
Felix offered a smile. "We came to see how things are progressing."
Lillian inhaled slowly through her nose and answered, "You're here in person. That's… unexpected."
Felix raised a brow. "I told you I had expectations of you. I wouldn't simply walk away after that."
"That's right!" Cyril added, chest puffed. "You should be grateful for the prince's generosity!"
Shouldn't they be doing student council work? Lillian wondered.
Felix's attention flicked to Cyril. "Although I don't recall asking you to come."
"I am your aide, sir! Naturally, I attend with you!"
Felix's eyes narrowed with amusement. "You finished your paperwork unusually early for someone who just happened to tag along. Were you planning to watch Lady Lillian from the start?"
Cyril's ears turned pink. "Th-that is— I simply anticipated your intentions! A competent aide must foresee things!"
Lillian, listening, felt a headache forming. Lana grabbed her hands. "Look! Isn't this amazing? Both the president and vice president are here!"
But Lana wasn't admiring their faces. "The brooch—peridot? Tourmaline? And Lord Ashley's shoes… I want to sketch them so badly…"
She was practically vibrating with gemstone-induced adrenaline. Felix clapped his hands lightly. "Well then, let's see what you've been working on."
"Got it!" Glenn declared. "Lillian, let's show them the results!"
He had no idea how bad the results were. Lillian took her position. Lana hurried to the piano.
"One, two, three!"
They began. For the first few beats, it was fine. Then Glenn's feet forgot the meaning of rhythm, and everything fell apart.
"Stop," Cyril commanded.
Lillian braced—but the glare was aimed at Glenn.
"Glenn Dudley! That is not leading! Reflect on your behavior toward your partner!"
Lillian blinked in mild surprise. She'd expected the criticism to be hers.
Glenn frowned. "I was being polite!"
"You can't even invite a girl properly! Watch and learn!"
Cyril shoved Glenn aside and turned to Lillian. He placed one hand behind his back and bowed with impeccable grace.
"May I have this dance, Lady Lillian?"
"…Of course."
Her voice was steady. Her heart was a runaway carriage. Cyril gently took her hand. Lana resumed playing. His lead was smooth and effortless. Lillian followed without hesitation; his cues were subtle but clear.
Her posture shifted—Cyril corrected it.
Her footwork tightened—Cyril guided it.
No words exchanged, yet everything flowed.
When the music ended, Cyril bowed. Then turned sharply to Glenn.
"Observe! That is how you escort a lady!"
Back to normal Cyril. Lillian exhaled. "It's good to see you acting like yourself, Lord Ashley."
He snapped his gaze to her. "And what exactly is that supposed to mean, Accountant Norton?"
Cyril cleared his throat and lectured: "In ballroom dancing, the man determines the outcome. If he leads properly and keeps to the beat, everything aligns."
"Whoa," Glenn said, impressed. "That was amazing!"
"If you're going to compliment me," Cyril huffed, "try words that aren't barbaric."
Glenn's face lit with effort. "Right! You were like— shwoo! And then— whup! Psssh! Super cool!"
Cyril stared. "…Manners can wait. First, you need to learn human language."
When it came time for the retest, Glenn Dudley stood at the center of the ballroom floor, unusually tense. Lillian waited quietly as his supposite partner—calm, composed, and already having passed her exam days prior. Still, she watched Glenn with the steady gaze of someone who intended to support him to the very end.
Once the music began, Glenn took his first step with a smoothness that would have shocked anyone familiar with his earlier performance. His lead was still a touch forceful, but now it held intention rather than recklessness. His footwork, once chaotic, settled into a rhythm that aligned—mostly—with the music.
He guided the assistant teacher through the basic sequence, shoulders stiff but determined. And while Glenn occasionally drifted off-count, he corrected himself quickly, proving he had worked not only hard—but intelligently.
When the music ended, Lindsey's expression softened into a relieved, heartfelt smile. The kind a teacher gave when a student had genuinely earned their progress.
"…Congratulations," she said. "You've passed."
Glenn blinked. Then grinned. Then whooped loudly enough to echo off the polished floor.
From the hallway, Neil, Lana, and Cyril—who had all been secretly watching—burst into celebratory noise.
Lana clapped excitedly. Neil let out a small breath he'd been holding. Cyril immediately crossed his arms and muttered, "Well, it was about time," but the faint color at the tips of his ears betrayed him.
Lindsey clasped her hands together, her voice warm.
"You put in an excellent effort, Glenn. It truly shows."
Glenn shot a thumbs-up toward the hallway.
"See? Told ya I'd nail it!"
Lillian allowed herself a small, satisfied smile—subtle, but unmistakably proud.
....................
Serendia Academy boasted several tearooms, but one stood apart—a private chamber reserved for a select few. Inside, a tea party was in progress. Its hostess, Bridget Greyham, student council secretary and noble daughter of MarquisShaleberry, had invited only one guest: Felix Arc Castina, student council president and second prince of the Castina Empire.
"Glenn Dudley passed his ballroom dancing retest," Felix remarked casually, sipping the black tea set before him.
Bridget replaced her cup on its saucer and unfolded her fan with a practiced elegance. "That's wonderful to hear."
"Weren't you hoping he'd fail?"
"Why would I take pleasure in a fellow student struggling?" she replied smoothly. One of the three most beautiful girls at the academy, Bridget allowed a faint smile to trace her features as her gaze settled on Felix. "Speaking of dancing… it reminds me. Do you remember how we used to practice together when we were younger?"
"Of course," Felix answered. "I have fond memories."
"You were terrible at it… stepped on my feet constantly, apologizing every few seconds. Remember?" She kept her mouth hidden behind her fan, her eyes studying him as if testing his reaction.
Felix offered a sheepish smile, embarrassed by the memory. "Suddenly reminiscing… what brought this on?"
"Oh, I enjoy the past as much as anyone," she said lightly.
A tea party with a prince and a noblewoman—it seemed almost lifted from a court novel. Yet beneath their polite conversation, a quiet duel of wits was unfolding.
Bridget Greyham was intelligent, sharp, and not one to be swayed by status or charm.
"You've always been clever," Felix observed.
"My father disapproves. He says he prefers women to be slightly duller, more amusing… Do you agree?"
"I like smart women," he replied.
"Oh? I'm honored." Bridget's high-pitched laugh was playful, her smile dazzling, yet her amber eyes remained cool, unyielding to flattery.
Felix raised his teacup as Bridget's expression shifted thoughtfully. "By the way, would you consider Lady Lillian among the intelligent?"
"What do you think? I'd like your opinion," he replied.
Bridget lowered her lashes, weighing her words. "She is calm, composed, and exceptionally capable. A student who works as an assistant medical officer while studying—she has the mind and discipline of a natural scholar. Yet she is quietly selfless. Helping others, like Glenn Dudley, is where her talent shines. If judged only by her academic record, some might overlook her abilities."
Felix's lips curved in a subtle smile, his blue eyes narrowing. "So, do you ever watch her and think, 'Why isn't everyone like her?'"
Bridget said nothing, silently gauging his intent.
"It's like looking at my younger self, isn't it?" he added warmly. Even his charm failed to crack her composed, iron-clad smile. He replaced his cup and rose. "Thank you for the tea, and for your company, Lady Bridget."
"And to you… this was most worthwhile, Your Royal Highness," she replied, every inch the perfect noblewoman.
As Felix departed, he exhaled softly. I can't ever let my guard down around her… Perhaps I misjudged this time.
Glancing out the window, his eyes widened. At the rear of the school, Glenn was laboring with large stones. What was he planning?
Felix had maintained his vigilance around the transfer student. Rumors had circulated of a young mage defeating an earth dragon in Craeme—Glenn's features matched the description. His presence now suggested a purpose: either to observe or to eliminate.
Felix had also monitored any connection between Glenn and Lillian, especially since they had arrived at the academy simultaneously. Offering dance lessons had been a pretext to observe them together. Yet no link had emerged.
I should remain cautious around Dudley, he decided.
Through the window, he watched as Lillian, Neil, and Lana joined Glenn. Together, they placed an iron grating over the stones, built a fire beneath it, and arranged strips of meat across the top.
…Oh, wow.
Originally planning to return to his dorm, Felix quickly changed course, heading to the rear garden to investigate further.
....................
After safely passing the dance retest, Glenn suggested they have a little celebration. "I'll get us everything we need—the venue and the food!" he exclaimed, pounding his chest. Everyone else had expected a tea party, but Glenn secured a spot behind the school and prepared a large quantity of meat.
"Can't have a celebration without meat!" Glenn said, expertly beginning to grill it.
Lana watched with curiosity. As the daughter of a wealthy merchant, she was used to observing but not necessarily participating.
This was technically against school rules, but since Lana didn't intervene, Lillian and Neil—two council members who were most likely to go along with the group—simply observed and kept an eye on things.
"It seems pretty easy to make this," Lana remarked, glancing at Glenn. "Where did you get all this meat?"
Glenn grinned. "Heh-heh-heh. I come from a butcher's family. I had a carriage send me there and back!" Though his master had forbidden unsupervised magecraft, Glenn had managed to use his flight magic to get the meat without issue.
"You're from a butcher's family? Did you enroll here to become someone's attendant, then?" Lana asked.
Glenn shook his head. "No, I'm a mage's apprentice. My master suddenly told me to come to Serendia Academy—and paid for everything."
Neil, arranging skewers on the grill, gasped. "The enrollment fee here is insane. Your master must be incredible."
"Illustrious? I don't know about that… but my master is very strong. I've hardly ever seen anyone stronger."
"When you say strong… do you mean someone like the Artillery Mage, or the Silent Witch who slew the black dragon?"
Glenn flipped the meat skewers. "Neither! The meat's ready. Here you go!"
He adjusted the fire and handed skewers to everyone, taking one for himself. "All right, now that everyone has one… time to celebrate Glenn and Lillian helping each other pass the retest! Let's eat!"
Lillian followed suit, calmly taking a bite. The perfectly browned mutton had a slight odor, but the spices made it easy to eat. She wasn't especially fond of mutton, but even she had to admit—it was delicious.
"I… I'm not great with mutton, but this is very good," Lillian said softly, her composed tone carrying genuine appreciation.
Hearing her words, Glenn puffed out his chest. "Heh-heh! That's a secret spice from my family. We even sell it in stores!"
Neil chimed in seriously, "It's been easier to get seasonings lately, depending on the region."
"Partly due to Southerndole expanding its ports," Lana added. "Though the Kingdom is still unstable, and some merchants are waiting to see how things play out."
Lillian listened quietly, reflecting on the shifting political and economic landscape. She didn't care for politics personally, but the development around her was impossible to ignore.
While eating, she noticed the fat from the meat dripping slightly onto her hand. Calmly, she wiped it with a handkerchief as Lana advised, "Hold the skewer horizontally. That way, the fat won't drip."
"O-okay…" Lillian tilted her skewer, following the advice.
Lana continued eating, her curiosity piqued by the flavors and the grilling process. Glenn remained happy-go-lucky, Neil earnest and sincere, and Lillian quietly observant, helping keep everything running smoothly.
Back at Minerva's Mage Training Institution, Lillian would never have imagined herself cooking behind the school with this group. Yet now, the experience brought a quiet happiness she hadn't expected.
Finishing quickly, Glenn immediately started cooking more meat.
Neil's eyes widened. "Glenn, you're still eating?!"
"That was nowhere near enough!" Glenn replied.
"But I'm full!" Neil protested, clutching his stomach.
"You've got to eat more, or you won't grow big and strong!" Glenn teased.
Neil froze. "…You just called me a squirt, didn't you?"
Lillian smiled faintly at the playful exchange, appreciating the lighthearted moment.
Suddenly, a voice rang out. "Hey, looks like everyone's having fun."
The group turned to see Felix Arc Castina, student council president, standing nearby.
Lana's eyes widened. Neil paled. "President! This is… um…"
Felix sighed. "Two council members, breaking school rules in broad daylight?"
Glenn held his skewer boldly. "There's no rule against cooking meat here!"
Felix folded his arms, surveying the group. "You need to submit the paperwork the day before."
Glenn, ever fearless, offered a skewer to Felix. "Want one, President?"
Felix paused, then accepted it. Neil gasped.
Biting into the skewer neatly, Felix remarked, "Very good. Well-seasoned. Consider me an accomplice. Keep quiet about my little rule violation, won't you?"
Everyone nodded, laughing nervously.
Glenn cheered. "There's plenty more! You helped us with dancing, so this is thanks! Should we call the vice president?"
Neil shook his head violently. "L-let's not!"
Lillian silently agreed. She even cast a small, unchanted spell to redirect the smoke away from the school building, keeping things safe while remaining calm and composed as ever.
....................
Once the secret party behind the school was over, Lillian returned to her room in the girls' dormitory to find a black cat and a maid sitting on the floor, reading together.
"Welcome back, Silent Witch," the maid said.
The maid closed her book, then glided upward and back down in a bow. This was Rynzbelfeid, nicknamed Ryn, the spirit contracted to the Barrier Mage Louis Miller. As a high wind spirit, she was particularly adept at flight magecraft, and so she had been acting as Lillian's point of contact during her assignments.
This seemed too early for a routine report. Did her presence indicate an emergency? Lillian concealed the tension that flitted across her composed expression.
Nero, the black cat, who had been reading next to Ryn, closed his book with a tap of his paw and looked up at her. "Looks like she brought you a present."
"…A present?" Lillian repeated, tilting her head.
"Yes," said Ryn. "I've come bearing a gift from my master addressed to you. Please accept it." She picked up a paper-wrapped object placed near the wall and…
"Dururururu…" Ryn produced a strange rolling noise with her tongue, almost like a drumroll.
Lillian blinked in surprise.
"Pa-pa-pa-paan," Ryn continued, adding a trumpet-like fanfare. A small child doing this might have been cute, but a beautiful maid producing these sounds in a monotone was surreal.
"…Miss Ryn? What… was that?"
"I read that humans play instruments in ceremonial situations. Lacking any such instruments, I reproduced the sounds orally," Ryn explained flatly.
Lillian smiled faintly. Only Ryn could make something so ridiculous feel serious.
"In any case, here is your gift." Ryn held out the paper-wrapped package tied with a red ribbon.
"Uh… thank you." Lillian unwrapped it carefully. Inside was a navy-blue dress and a white coat.
The dress wasn't extravagant—perfect for daily wear—and the coat was simple and practical. Lillian appreciated the thoughtfulness behind the gift.
"Wow… is it really okay for me to have this?"
"It is. Lord Louis said to tell you: 'Consider it a reward for assisting my foolish disciple. One must know when to praise and when to instruct. Ha-ha-ha.'"
Lillian managed a small, composed smile. She held the dress and coat up to herself; they were the perfect size.
Perhaps I'll wear this next time I accompany Lana into town, she thought, bowing slightly to Ryn. "Thank you. I'll write a letter of thanks to Mr. Louis, so please wait a moment."
After hanging up the garments, she sat at her desk and gathered her writing implements, determined to properly convey her gratitude. Ever since coming to the academy, she had quietly strived to express thanks when deserved.
As she began writing, Ryn moved beside her. "According to your previous report, it appears you encountered individuals pretending to be part of a trading company."
"Yes…" Lillian replied calmly.
"In light of this, Lord Louis requests that you submit a security plan for the school festival with your next regularly scheduled report."
"A… security plan?" Lillian's composed tone didn't waver, but her mind assessed the challenge. Security was not her area of expertise, though she understood its importance.
Ryn's light-green eyes studied her closely. "For example," she suggested, "if you were an assassin, how would you attempt to eliminate the second prince?"
Lillian folded her arms, considering the hypothetical. If I were an assassin… I'd need to account for the barrier first.
Nero jumped onto the desk, puffing up proudly. "If Lillian were an assassin, she wouldn't need to sneak at all. She could just cast a high-powered attack spell from afar and end it instantly!"
"…Nero, that's not how assassinations work," Lillian said with a faint sigh, though her composure remained. "Remember what Mr. Louis said—the academy is protected by a barrier. Attacks from the outside are impossible."
"Is that right?"
"Yes. Mr.Louis has installed barriers around all critical facilities in the empire. We needn't worry about attacks from outside."
Louis Miller, known as the Barrier Mage, specialized in defensive magics. The academy's protective barrier was no exception—strong, precise, and cleverly hidden.
"…It's likely a wide-range, large-scale barrier with detection spells. Normally inactive, but instantly reactive to threats. It's probably hidden in a secret location, making it nearly impossible to bypass."
Lillian paused, considering the weakness: while the barrier prevented external attacks, anything initiated from inside could bypass it.
Ryn observed her thoughtfully. "That will not be an issue. No one could rewrite the barrier."
"Why not?"
"In the past, Lord Louis said, and I quote," Ryn recited in her monotone voice, "'My defensive barriers are embedded with deadly traps. If someone wishes to rewrite them, they are welcome to try. Ha-ha-ha.'"
Nero narrowed his eyes. "…A killer barrier? Never heard of such a thing. Seven Sages sure are something else."
Lillian let out a quiet, composed breath, keeping her thoughts focused. Typical of Louis… always planning for the impossible.