A hearty morning

The alarming fever that gripped me last night had receded as swiftly as it arrived.

When I next opened my eyes, bright daylight already streamed through the window.

I stretched languidly, my joints responding with a soft symphony of pops.

There was no lingering weakness, contrary to my expectations. Instead…

I felt remarkably well, better than I had in a long time.

The chaotic sea of magic swirling within me now felt extraordinarily full and serene.

The vast light elements contained within the Holy Appraisal Stone had been thoroughly assimilated, transforming into potent nourishment that revitalized my core.

In fact, I felt as though I could devour two more such stones without batting an eye.

Well, that was merely a jest.

The taste truly resembled chewing chalk dust, an experience I had no desire to repeat.

“Good morning, Young Lady.”

Anna’s voice rang out precisely on schedule.

She entered, carrying my toiletries, and faint shadows beneath her eyes betrayed a sleepless night.

Yet, her demeanor was strangely agitated.

As she assisted me with washing my face, her soft hands would invariably linger a fraction longer as they brushed my cheeks and neck.

Her gaze wasn’t that of a servant attending her mistress; rather, it was akin to someone meticulously inspecting a newly restored, cherished treasure, ensuring its flawless condition.

“Last night… you went through a lot.”

I said casually.

Anna’s hand gave a perceptible tremor, nearly dropping the towel into the basin.

“No… it was my honor.”

She lowered her head, her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and her voice held a suppressed, husky quality.

“Your body… every inch, I remember with perfect clarity. There is… no residual heat remaining.”

I gave her a somewhat bewildered look.

The fever had broken, and that was that. Why phrase it in such a…

…sensual manner?

Perhaps I was overthinking things.

Having finished my breakfast, I once more settled into the carriage bound for the academy.

Following yesterday’s dramatic execution, I had fully anticipated facing an onslaught of intensified whispers, accusatory glances, and perhaps even complete isolation.

Yet, reality swiftly proved my utter ignorance regarding the true influence of power in this world.

The instant my carriage drew to a halt before the academy gates, and the butler opened the door for me…

The previously boisterous school entrance plunged into an immediate, profound silence.

Students engaged in lively conversation froze as if suddenly throttled, their movements ceasing in unison.

Then, as if choreographed, they collectively retreated, bowing their heads and bending at the waist.

No one uttered a sound.

There was only one unified, sweeping motion, a collective lowering of heads like a field of wheat bending before a breeze.

It was a display born of both reverence for power and an underlying dread of the unknown.

I walked along the main path leading to the teaching building.

The crisp click of my heels against the pavement resonated with startling clarity in the pervasive silence.

This feeling…

How should I describe it?

While a touch awkward, for someone with social anxiety who prefers not to be disturbed, this self-imposed ‘silence barrier’ effect was nothing short of magnificent.

I no longer needed to dread unexpected confrontations or the tedious, insincere social overtures of bored noble daughters.

In a rather pleasant mood, I adjusted my spectacles and stepped into the S-class classroom.

The atmosphere within the classroom proved even more solemn than the hushed hallway outside.

Flanking my seat, my loyal ‘guardians’ were already in their appointed places.

Ella Smith was diligently polishing my desk with a handkerchief, her body draped gracefully over the surface.

The surface, already gleaming with a mirror-like sheen, hardly required further attention.

Upon my entrance, she instantly straightened, her emerald eyes shimmering with a profound, almost watery adoration.

“Lady Lilliana! Are you feeling well? Did you experience any discomfort after returning last night?”

“I’m perfectly fine.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful…”

Ella exhaled a visible sigh of relief, then, as if presenting a priceless artifact, produced a delicate thermos from her satchel.

“This is Holy Light Herb Tea I specially brewed by rising early this morning,” she explained, “I added honey; it’s excellent for mana recovery!”

On the other side, Beatrix Eisen sat like a statue.

She remained silent, yet the instant I moved to sit, she deftly placed a cushion behind my back.

It appeared to be handmade, the stitches a touch uneven but undeniably sturdy and thick.

“The chair is too hard; it’s not good for your back.”

Her words were few, yet her eyes remained intently fixed on my back, as if to ascertain my comfort.

Enveloped by such meticulous, unwavering attention from both my left and right…

I almost succumbed to the strange delusion that I was a helpless invalid, utterly incapable of self-care.

Just as I prepared to retrieve my textbook and settle into a day of leisurely study, the classroom door swung open.

Alexis von Lumiere stepped inside.

The classroom, which had previously held a faint hum of activity, instantly fell into an absolute, frozen silence.

Every eye in the room darted between the Prince and me, anticipating the next act in yesterday’s dramatic spectacle.

Would the Prince, enraged and humiliated, continue his assault?

Or would the villainess capitalize on her victory, pressing her advantage?

However, the sight of Alexis as he entered stunned everyone present.

He was not clad in the ceremonial robes, heavy with medals and emblematic of his power, but instead wore the academy’s simplest uniform.

His usually immaculately coiffed golden hair now fell somewhat disheveled across his forehead, partially obscuring his eyes and brows.

His face was pallid, his eye sockets sunken, and he appeared to have lost a considerable amount of weight; the aggressive arrogance that typically defined him was utterly absent.

In its place, a profound sense of brokenness clung to him, as if his entire worldview had been shattered, leaving him to wander aimlessly amidst the ruins of his former self.

He walked, step by laborious step, towards his seat.

That was the center of the first row, the most conspicuous position.

But as he passed my seat.

His footsteps halted.

A collective gasp swept through the classroom.

Ella immediately positioned herself in front of me like a bristling kitten.

Beatrix’s hand instinctively reached for a sword hilt that wasn’t there.

I lifted my gaze, calmly observing him through my spectacles.

Alexis slowly turned his head.

His azure eyes, once filled with scrutiny and disdain, were now bloodshot.

He looked at me as a traveler, long lost in the desert, might gaze upon their sole source of water.

That look held none of the Prince’s dignity, none of a man’s superiority.

Only a persistent longing for answers.

“…Good morning, Miss Eckhart.”

He spoke, his voice hoarse and tinged with a tremor.

He did not call me ‘Lilliana’, nor ‘that woman’.

Instead, he used the most distant, yet most respectful, form of address: my family name.

“Good morning, Your Highness.”

I responded blandly.

Alexis did not move on.

He stood there, seemingly embroiled in a fierce internal struggle.

After a long moment, he suddenly lowered his head, drew something from his pocket, and gently placed it on the corner of my desk.

It was a…

…somewhat crumpled slip of paper.

On it was a single line of hurried handwriting: a borrowing slip from the Royal Library.

“‘Ancient Magic Origins: The Paradox of Light and Shadow,'” he murmured, reading the book’s title aloud.

“It’s the only extant copy in the Royal Forbidden Archives. I thought… you might find it interesting.”

I was momentarily stunned.

A book?

This Prince, who only yesterday had seemed eager to condemn me to the stake, was now… offering me a book?

“Why?”

I asked.

Alexis managed a bitter smile, one laced with profound self-derision.

“Because I want to know…”

He lifted his eyes, gazing deeply into mine.

“…what kind of look you will have in your eyes when you finish this book… when you look at this world, so full of prejudice.”

“And… when you look at someone as foolish as myself.”

With that, he did not wait for my refusal, nor did he utter another word.

He turned and walked towards his seat with a somewhat heavy stride.

His back, no longer as straight as a pine, somehow felt… far more real.

The illusory crown, symbolizing absolute correctness, had shattered into fragments yesterday.

Now, he was no longer the lofty judge.

Instead, he was a seeker of knowledge, one who had just learned to bow his head, yearning to peer into the abyss, yet terrified of being consumed by it.

I picked up the borrowing slip, looking at the unfamiliar title.

…Was this, then, an apology?

I shook my head, a hint of resignation in the gesture.

While I couldn’t fathom the Prince’s thought process, if it was the only copy…

It would be foolish to refuse a gift.

I tucked the slip into my satchel, then casually took a sip of the honey tea Ella had prepared.

It was quite sweet.

Today’s S-class was, as always, utterly perplexing.