Mikhail placed both hands on the door as instructed by Adrian and began drawing up his mana.
Ssshhh— A breeze stirred inside the closed dorm room.
His silver hair began to sway gently. Then—whoosh—warm air brushed against his skin, wrapping around his body like a soft current. A shimmering haze surged around him, rippling like a mirage.
“You remember what I told you earlier, right? Be really careful, very precise. Just float it a little, just above the ground…”
The dragon was pacing nervously right beside the focused Mikhail. With his eyes closed in concentration, Mikhail’s brow furrowed with every word Adrian muttered. Still, it was noticeably easier than the last time he attempted this. He could now manipulate just the right amount of mana in the exact direction he intended.
Unable to bear the distraction, Mikhail finally opened his mouth toward the overly animated Adrian.
“…You’re too noisy. Shut up.”
Still with his eyes closed and focusing beyond the door, Mikhail began to chant the incantation for the levitation spell. He first visualized the floor outside the room—the plush texture of the deep purple luxury carpet lining the hallway. Then, he imagined mana slowly gathering from that carpet and lifting upward.
For some reason, more mana surged from within his body than usual. Perhaps, just as Adrian said, he was now able to access mana he normally couldn’t use. Whatever the reason, it was definitely effective.
Mikhail slowly, with utmost delicacy, shifted the seedling he’d levitated slightly to the side, then gently drew the mana back into his body. The glowing particles of mana streamed back into his palms, which were still resting against the door.
Swish—His hair, which had briefly floated upward in defiance of gravity, gradually returned to its place.
Before Mikhail even opened his eyes, Adrian immediately blurted out a question, eyes fixed on the seedling just beyond the door.
“How is it? You moved it right, didn’t you?”
“……”
But Mikhail tilted his head slightly, remaining silent—perhaps because he wasn’t confident in the result himself.
Adrian glanced at him, then reached for the doorknob without hesitation. Slowly, he opened the door.
The hallway was a sea of green.
Lining the corridor in neat rows were countless Kevish seedlings.
“…They’re… kinda big for seedlings, aren’t they?”
Could these really still be called seedlings? They hadn’t started bearing fruit yet, but each was easily twice the size of the ones the dragon had dealt with earlier. No wonder the door wouldn’t open.
Adrian stepped out quickly and began examining each seedling with care.
Thankfully, Mikhail’s mana control had improved significantly since the Tadpolie job. Except for a few that leaned ever so slightly, most were in perfect condition.
As he nodded in satisfaction, quietly inspecting the seedlings, a curt voice rang out beside his ear.
“So, are you just gonna stare at those trees all day? You’re forgetting something, aren’t you?”
It was Mikhail. At some point, he had buttoned his shirt back up and now leaned casually against the doorframe, his appearance neat and composed.
Huh? Adrian squinted at the prince’s oddly phrased remark.
“…Forget what?”
Mikhail shot him a look filled with clear irritation.
Adrian met his raised gaze in silence for a moment. Then it hit him, and he let out a faint laugh.
“Oh, right. Forgot to say thanks. Happy now?”
Mikhail gave a sullen nod. Of course, he’d gotten something useful out of it—an unexpected boost to his mana control training. But all he’d really done was grant the guy’s stupid wish to move those damn trees safely, so there was no real reason to say thank you in return.
Instead, he had a question.
“How often do those things bloom again?”
“About once a month. I’ll give you the roommate discount—three Tilon each.”
“…Do whatever you want.”
Mikhail turned sharply, unable to bring himself to say he wouldn’t buy one.
Adrian, meanwhile, crouched and picked up two seedlings, one in each hand. That made two per trip.
“So I’ll have to go back and forth fifteen times…”
It was a ridiculous method, but for Adrian Heather—a human who couldn’t use magic—there was no other option.
He let out a small sigh and lifted his head, only to lock eyes with Mikhail’s sharp glare. Adrian froze.
He left first—when did he start watching me again?
“…What? Did I forget something?”
Adrian asked reflexively, like a thief caught in the act. He’d been planning to secretly use magic while no one was around.
Mikhail stood in the hallway, still glaring at him with visible disapproval, two seedlings in his hands.
“Three Tilon.”
“…What?”
“If you ask for help, I’ll do it for three Tilon.”
“……”
So annoying. Adrian’s brow twitched at the prince’s sudden change of heart. He didn’t know why Mikhail was suddenly playing the good guy, but honestly, it would’ve been way easier if he’d just kept walking.
“Three Tilon—so you’re saying we trade for that mana neutralizer from earlier, right? Then… sure. Help me.”
…I don’t need your damn help. But there was no real reason to turn down the offer.
Mikhail, as if he’d expected that answer, gave a slight smirk and casually returned to the room with only a few steps. Holding two seedlings in his hands, he gave Adrian a brief nod—an unspoken order to lead the way to the greenhouse.
Clomp, clomp. The quiet dorm hallway echoed with the sound of their footsteps.
***
“Yushi! How’d you do? Good enough to write home to your parents?”
“…Just barely scraping by.”
The Garnet freshmen had gathered at the main building’s bulletin board. Yushi held her results in hand, wearing a puppy-like expression—disappointed, hopeful, and resigned all at once. Looked like her dream of buying a party dress was going down the drain.
“What grade were you aiming for?”
“A-rank.”
“And what’d you actually get?”
“B-minus.”
“…Let’s just go eat! My treat!”
A friend beside her gave her a hearty smack on the back and shouted with cheerful determination.
It had been a week since the final exams for all departments had ended. Basamiel quickly returned to its usual peaceful rhythm, helped by the fact that vacation was just around the corner. It was one of those floating weeks where everyone wanted to wrap up the remaining classes and head home. The professors seemed to know exactly how their students felt, because lessons had grown noticeably lax.
Adrian waved at a few passing students and made his way back to the dorm. He had just come from checking the main greenhouse.
The Kevish seedlings they’d planted a couple of days ago had adapted well to the high-quality soil prepared by the Ordinas faculty. If they kept growing like this, they’d definitely bear top-grade fruit.
Humming a silent tune in his head, Adrian opened the door to his room.
And then paused.
His gaze narrowed when he noticed someone in the center of the room—not the prince.
It was another man, well-trained by the look of him, with faint traces of mana clinging to his form. Standing before him, Mikhail held his usual arrogant posture, and from the way they carried themselves, it was clear who outranked whom.
“…Alright. Go tell them I understand.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Click. Adrian quickly closed the door behind him without interrupting, moving silently across the room toward his bed.
He had no idea what message had just been delivered, but judging by the tense atmosphere, he had no interest in drawing attention to himself.
The man spoke in formal tones and offered to relay words on Mikhail’s behalf. He must have been a messenger from the Rustavaran royal family. Having just finished his official duties, he bowed with the precision of court etiquette before turning to leave.
Then his eyes—cool, detached, yet piercing—briefly landed on Adrian, who had just entered the room.
The messenger studied the prince’s roommate for a moment, then slowly opened his mouth again.
“There is one more thing I was instructed to deliver…”
“What is it?”
Mikhail asked, sensing the shift in topic.
Still expressionless, the man reached into his cloak and pulled something out. With one hand held behind his back in a formal stance, he presented it politely to Adrian.
“A letter from the Rustavaran royal family, addressed to your friend.”
It was written on pearlescent stationery.
To me?
Caught in the middle of the conversation, Adrian glanced at Mikhail—who looked equally confused.
“A letter?” the prince muttered, frowning.
“Please accept it.”
The messenger held out the letter, patiently waiting.
“…Okay, I got it,” Adrian mumbled, reaching out to take the envelope.
