One week had passed since the day of the tea party—and Lillian found her patience thinning, though not enough to show it. When lessons broke for lunch, she gathered her books with quiet efficiency and stepped out of the classroom. The corridor was still empty. Good. She preferred it that way.
But leaving first didn't mean she could relax.
Her gaze swept left, then right—habit, not fear, a physician's instinct to take stock of surroundings before proceeding. Only then did she step into the courtyard.
This should be a calm moment, she told herself.
Yet as soon as she rounded the corner, she noticed a familiar figure: a black-haired girl seated by the flower bed, posture perfect, still as a cold sculpture.
Claudia.
Lillian paused—not startled, but resigned. Claudia turned her head with the precise, fluid motion of a doll being guided, and her lapis-blue eyes fixed on Lillian.
Claudia had been doing this for a week now—appearing wherever Lillian went, watching her with unwavering scrutiny. Never speaking. Never intervening. Just silently observing.
It wasn't frightening. But it was…odd. Intrusive. Like being examined for an illness she didn't know she had.
Does she suspect something? Or is she simply curious? Lillian couldn't say. And Claudia offered no clues.
Lillian gave a polite, acknowledging nod—nothing more—and walked a longer path around the courtyard. She refused to run from someone simply staring at her. But she also saw no reason to invite conversation, either.
By the time she returned to the classroom building, the bell signalling the end of lunch break was already about to ring. She hadn't eaten, but she supposed she'd endured worse while assisting the academy's medical staff.
Skipping lunch isn't the end of the world. Her stomach disagreed faintly, but she ignored it with practiced ease.
In the quiet corner of the courtyard, cute-shaped and colorful snacks were placed on the white tablecloth. The freshly brewed black tea had a fragrant fruity scent.
"...It's my first time seeing this kind of snack," a young lady with strawberry-blond hair said. Her eyes sparkling with curiosity and excitement about finally having a tea party with the person she admired.
Lillianna Alcott, daughter of Marquess Lannister, picked up the baked snack with her fingers. There was candied fruit in the center of the flower-shaped baked snack, which was known as a rose snack.
"Honestly...it is so detailed. It makes me think that I'm eating a real rose."
"I'm glad you like it. I asked Aunt Sera's opinion on the design, and she said she liked roses. So I prepared the snacks and tea set with a rose motif."
Before Lillian commercialized products, she sent trial products to Lillianna's mother, Sera, who seemed to really like them and began advertising them in high society. Thus, the product establishes itself as a popular item not just amongst the aristocrats but even commoners in spite of its high price. That's why Lillian had secretly given the position of Advertising Director to her.
Lillianna's mood sulked, and she pouted. "I don't like it. Mother blatantly shows off right after receiving a letter from Sis. Her moniker as the Ice Rose will suffer."
Even with Lillianna's sarcasm, Lillian chuckled and said, "Oh my, if you find it regrettable, you can just establish a company of your own, Anna."
"No way. That's more work than it's worth." Even as Lillianna complained, Lillian only found it soothing. As she tried to add sugar to her, Lillianna didn't miss the intense stare they were receiving. "Is she still following you around?"
Lillian followed her eyes and found Claudia sitting not too far away from them. When their eyes met, Lillian smiled and gave a bow as a greeting, which only seemed to have annoyed Claudia for some reason.
"It's best to leave her be. She isn't someone who minces her words. If she had a problem, she'd eventually come and talk to me about it."
"If you say so..."
The tea party continued even as Lillian continued to receive Claudia's mildly hostile stare until their maids came to pick them up.
..............
After the tea party, Lillian headed to the student council room to finish her paperwork. When she knocked and entered, only Neil and Cyril were present. Both were surrounded by folders, looking more anxious than usual.
"Good afternoon," she greeted. "Is something the matter?"
"Lady Lillian, good afternoon." Neil tried to smile. "We're trying to locate the Classics Club's old journals. The current members can't find them anywhere."
"The Classics Club?" Lillian repeated.
Cyril nodded. "Victor Thorn, the former club advisor, was supposed to pass down the previous volumes. They're not in the library, not in the reference archives, and apparently not in the clubroom either."
Lillian thought for a moment. "Did they check the lockers in their previous room?"
Both boys blinked.
"The Classics Club moved from the second floor to the fourth floor about six months ago," she reminded them. "Their old locker might still have their materials."
"Oh—right," Cyril muttered, embarrassed. "Their numbers fell after the seniors graduated, so they were relocated."
"Then we should check the old room," Neil said, already stacking the papers. "It's worth a try."
As they stepped into the hallway, Cyril leaned closer to Lillian. "How did you know about the room change?"
"Uncle Theo sends me on errands using… outdated maps," she replied dryly. "So I asked a senior teacher about the current layout."
Cyril accepted the explanation, though his expression carried the hint of an unspoken question.
The old Classics Club room was tucked away at the far end of the Special Block, a quiet corridor with little foot traffic. The three walked in silence until Neil suddenly sneezed—once, then twice more.
"Lord Maywood, are you feeling unwell?" Lillian asked.
"N-no, just a sensitive nose," he insisted…and sneezed again.
Before she could comment, a voice cut through the hallway.
"…What are you doing?"
A girl with sleek black hair stood nearby, holding a book to her chest. Claudia Ashley—Cyril's younger stepsister.
"Good evening, Lady Claudia," Lillian greeted.
Claudia's gaze flicked briefly to Lillian's hand near Neil's forehead. "…Good evening. Student council work?"
"Yes," Cyril answered, stepping forward. "We're looking for the Classics Club journals."
Claudia joined them, and together they reached the old clubroom. The door was shut.
Cyril tried the knob. "Locked."
Just as he spoke, the lock clicked from inside. The door opened, revealing a tall male student in a thin white shirt, sleeves rolled up as though he had been working.
He blinked at the group. "Ah—sorry. I locked it so I could work quietly. Are you here for the Wall Newspaper Club?"
"Good afternoon," Cyril said. "Cyril Ashley, student council vice president. You're Keith Wesly, correct?"
Keith's polite smile faltered for the briefest moment. "Yes… we met briefly before."
Lillian noticed the faint scent of disinfectant clinging to him—not tobacco, but strong enough to irritate someone with sensitive sinuses. Neil sneezed again and looked miserable.
Cyril continued, "We're searching for the Classics Club journals. This used to be their room last year. Have you seen anything like that?"
Keith hesitated. "…No. I don't believe so."
The pause was too long. Lillian and Neil exchanged a subtle glance; Keith was hiding something.
"Would you mind if we had a quick look?" Neil asked politely.
Keith stiffened. "I'd rather not have outsiders disturb the clubroom."
Claudia folded her arms. "This is still an academy classroom. You don't have exclusive rights to it."
Keith visibly wavered and finally sighed. "…Fine. Just don't move things unnecessarily."
Inside, the room was sparsely furnished. A few desks, a notice board, and an extra door labeled prep room.
"We usually have four members," Keith explained. "But today I'm alone, preparing ideas for next month's issue."
Lillian wandered toward the prep room. Keith reluctantly nodded permission.
Inside the small space, she found scattered drawing tools, stacked boxes, a large sheet of paper held down by a metal pen case—and a small magical fan blasting air at the window. A boy's uniform jacket hung on the frame, fluttering in the wind.
Odd. Sloppy work habits for someone from a prestigious academic family.
Cyril, Claudia, and Neil joined her.
"Lady Lillian, anything unusual?" Cyril asked.
"Plenty," she murmured.
She turned to Keith. "Sir, when your club moved into this room, how many boxes did you bring?"
Keith blinked. "…I don't remember."
Lillian had her answer.
The Classics Club journals weren't missing—they were deliberately hidden.
Likely in the locked storage safe built into these old rooms, behind the prep room shelves.
But forcing the issue here would only make Keith defensive.
So she took another route.
"Since there are many places to check, it might be easier to have household staff assist us," she suggested casually. "They can help move the heavier items."
Keith's eyes widened—not with anger, but panic. "No. Absolutely not."
"We'll replace everything exactly where it was," Lillian said kindly.
"I said no!" His voice cracked. "I'm busy, and the journals aren't here. Please leave."
His outburst only confirmed her theory.
Lillian smiled politely. "We won't trouble you further. But if you do find the journals, would you deliver them to the Classics Club? Their new room is directly above."
Keith hesitated, breathing unevenly, then nodded stiffly. "…Fine."
Lillian bowed slightly. "Thank you."
Once they exited the building, Neil frowned. "Lady Lillian… what just happened?"
"I'll explain after we deal with your condition," she said, leading him to the infirmary.
Inside, she checked his breathing and nose. "You're reacting to strong disinfectant. It's not tobacco. You seem mildly hypersensitive—avoid chemical scents for now."
Neil nodded meekly.
Cyril asked, "Then what about the journals?"
Lillian poured them each a warm drink. "If I'm correct, Keith should find them any minute now."
As if on cue, a girl from the Classics Club appeared at the door, holding a box tied neatly with string.
"Vice President Ashley! Officer Maywood!" she exclaimed. "Thank you for helping us! Someone anonymously returned the missing journals—I brought these sweets as thanks."
Cyril and Neil stared. Claudia looked at Lillian.
Lillian only smiled and sipped her drink.