Black Water Lily

For those who struggle with early mornings, the dawn sunlight is not merely blinding; it is an unreasonable, brutal assault.

When Anna precisely knocked on my door and, with a tone akin to someone preparing for a holy war, asked me to change, my soul was still clinging desperately to the pillow in bed, refusing to let go.

“…So sleepy.”

I sat on the edge of the bed, allowing Anna and the two others who had been waiting to dress me like a doll. They meticulously layered the intricate, high-end pajamas—or rather, the specialized combat attire—onto my frame.

First, the tight-fitting inner lining constricted my skin. Though smooth to the touch, the sensation of being encased brought a slight jolt of alertness.

Next came the voluminous outer robe, which possessed an exquisite drape.

Finally, I donned the enormous hood, large enough to obscure half my face.

“Perfect…”

Anna stepped back, cupping her hands to her face, her eyes glinting with a fervent glow.

“My Lady, you now look… like a goddess of the night, awakened from eternal slumber, poised to bestow divine oracles upon the world.”

“…I’m just not fully awake,” I mumbled softly.

However, muffled by the heavy hood, my words likely sounded like nothing more than a profound sigh.

The main venue for the Silver Moon Magic-Martial Festival was the colossal open-air arena situated at the heart of the academy.

By this hour, the stands, capable of accommodating tens of thousands, were packed to the brim.

The clamor of voices surged like a tsunami, crashing against eardrums in relentless waves.

Within the waiting channel, teams from various classes were engaged in their final warm-ups.

Some chanted spells, others inspected their armor. The air was thick with the scent of tension and aggressive hormones.

Yet, in S-class’s preparation zone, the atmosphere was starkly different.

It was so quiet it felt utterly isolated from the world.

Beatrix Eisen stood clad in light silver leather armor, her knight’s sword—normally cherished as life itself—now strapped to her back. In her hand, however, she held something jarringly out of place: a folding chair.

Crafted from fine black walnut wood and velvet cushions, this folding chair was undoubtedly expensive.

On the other side, Ella Smith wore a platinum-and-white mage robe. Besides her staff, she carried a delicate portable tea set and several plates of pastries.

As for me, I leaned against the wall, my entire body hunched inside the black robe, attempting to catch a few more winks in the final minutes before we entered.

“Um… Miss Eckhart?”

A timid voice reached me from nearby.

I slightly lifted my eyelids. It was a contestant from the adjacent class, seemingly a noble as well, but his gaze upon me was like staring at a nuclear bomb about to explode.

“Yes?” I asked, my voice hoarse.

“N-no! Nothing! My apologies!”

The boy, having been swept by a glance from my half-open red eyes beneath the hood, instantly turned ghastly pale. He retreated, stumbling back to his team as if he had seen a ghost.

Faintly, I heard suppressed gasps from their direction:

“Oh my god! She just looked at me! That gaze… it was like she was looking at a corpse!”

“Too terrifying… Is she accumulating magic power? The air around her has grown cold!”

‘No, that’s air conditioning magic. I’m hot,’ I thought, pulling my hood lower with a sigh of resignation.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your patience!”

Just then, the magically amplified voice of a commentator echoed through the arena. The voice was sweet and playful, yet carried a hint of mischievous delight, as if reveling in the spectacle.

It was Chloe. This girl, through some unknown means, had managed to secure a spot in the student council’s commentary booth.

“Next to enter are the most anticipated team of this Magic-Martial Festival! From S-class, led by the rumored Sovereign of the Night…”

She deliberately paused, keeping the entire audience in suspense.

“…the Silent Black Court Squad!”

‘Silent Black Court?’

‘Who came up with such an overly dramatic name? I recall writing ‘S-Class Team One’ on the registration form.’

‘And what’s with ‘Sovereign of the Night’?’

“Let us proceed, Lady Lilliana.”

Beatrix turned, her stern face etched with a profound sense of mission. “The stage… has been set for you.”

“…Mm,” I sighed helplessly, accepting my fate as I began to walk.

Stepping out of the shadowed passage, the dazzling sunlight instantly poured down. I instinctively frowned, suppressing the discomfort of the stinging light in my throat, yet my steps inevitably grew heavy and slow.

To the tens of thousands of spectators, this was the scene they witnessed:

Amidst the clamor and scorching heat, three figures slowly entered the center of the arena.

To the left was a saintess, staff in hand, her expression holy yet with a murderous glint in her eyes.

To the right was a knight, a sharp sword on her back, exuding a chilling murderous aura.

And in the very center, a figure clad in a pitch-black robe advanced with steps that were incredibly slow, yet incredibly steady.

Her face was obscured by the enormous hood, revealing only a pale jawline. The black robe, far from appearing out of place in the sunlight, seemed like a black hole capable of devouring light, undulating like waves with her every movement.

She walked very slowly. Each step seemed to tread upon the heartstrings of the crowd.

That slowness, rather than merely indicating sluggish movement, conveyed a profound disdain for the competition and the absolute composure of a superior being.

“…”

The entire arena fell silent. The oppressive aura was so potent that even the nobles in the stands forgot to wave their banners.

We reached the center of the field. Our opponents, a Great Axe Squad composed of three burly men, stood opposite us.

They had been roaring to bolster their courage, but the moment they saw my attire, their roars were abruptly cut off, caught in their throats.

“Th-that’s…”

The leading strongman swallowed, his gaze fixed on the folding chair in Beatrix’s hand behind me. “Is that a weapon?”

Beatrix paid them no mind. Under the watchful eyes of tens of thousands, she elegantly and swiftly unfolded the chair, placing it at the very back of our designated area—the so-called ‘Throne of Kings’ position.

Then, she produced a pristine white handkerchief and meticulously wiped down the velvet cushion.

“My Lady, please.”

She knelt on one knee, offering a respectful invitation.

I didn’t stand on ceremony. After all, standing was simply too tiring.

I walked to the chair, turned, and sat down. My black robe spread out, settling like a black water lily blooming in the center of the arena.

I crossed my legs. My specialized black boots were faintly visible through the slit in the skirt, outlining the slender curve of my calves.

Ella immediately stepped forward, placing a prepared small round table beside my hand, pouring a cup of black tea, and even thoughtfully opening a pre-prepared book, resting it on my lap.

The entire process was smooth and seamless, a testament to their perfect coordination. It was as if we weren’t there for a fight, but for a leisurely picnic.

The three burly men opposite us turned ghastly pale.

“Wh-what kind of joke is this!” the leading strongman roared, veins bulging on his forehead. “This is the sacred Magic-Martial Festival! And you… you’re drinking tea and reading here?!”

“This is an insult to us! A trampling on the spirit of chivalry!”

The spectators in the stands also began to stir.

“This is too arrogant, isn’t it?”

“Even if she’s a ducal daughter, this is real combat!”

“Is she really not going to fight?”

Facing the overwhelming wave of doubt, I merely calmly turned a page of my book.

The rustle of the page was faint, yet to Beatrix and Ella, it resonated like the beating of war drums.

“…So loud,” I complained softly from beneath my hood.

Truly. The sunlight was too blinding, the noise too cacophonous. I simply wished to finish this chapter in peace, then return to catch up on sleep.

My voice was small, audible only to the two beside me. But that was enough.

“Zhengg…!”

The crisp hum of a longsword being drawn instantly severed the oppressive heat in the air.

Beatrix stood tall, blocking me. The tip of her sword pointed directly at the three men opposite, the last vestige of camaraderie for her classmates vanishing completely from her golden eyes.

“Did you hear that?” Her voice was icy, resonating throughout the arena. “My Lady said… it’s too loud.”

Ella also raised her staff. Gentle light elements furiously converged around her, forming pulsating ripples of magic that sent shivers down the spine.

“Sinners who disturb My Lady’s reading…” A sweet yet broken smile graced the saintess’s face. “…will be purified, you see?”

In the VIP section of the stands, Prince Alexis, whose house arrest had been lifted and who had specifically rushed to watch the match, observed the scene below.

He watched the black-robed girl who sat in the chair, not even raising her head. He gripped the railing, his knuckles white, yet a trembling curve tugged at the corner of his lips.

“…Arrogance.”

“Such… despair-inducing arrogance, Lilliana.”

“But…” His gaze fell upon Lilliana’s pale fingertips, visible outside her black robe, turning a page. “Why do you look… more dazzling now than ever before?”