“What do you want to order?”
“Huh?”
Adrian, lost in thought, lifted his head at Mikhail’s voice. In front of him was a menu set out on the table. …He was going to order for him? Adrian glanced sideways at Mikhail. Mikhail, for some reason, looked rather proud as he said, “It’s on me,” and gave a little chin nod toward the menu again.
“…Uh, the B course.”
Mikhail waited patiently as Adrian scanned the menu and made his choice, then ordered for the both of them. After handing over a Tilon to the restaurant staff, he pointed toward a sunlit table by the window.
Wait a minute. He even saved a seat already? Adrian walked over to the table Mikhail had reserved, his expression less than thrilled.
Suddenly, the conversation they’d had at dawn while holding Fellen Deeps’ sword flashed through his mind.
Mikhail had taken the sword from the display case and spent a long time just examining it in silence. He ran his hand over the wing-shaped embellishments carved into the hilt, even inspected the blade after unsheathing it to check its sharpness. With his eyes gleaming like a child who had just gotten the birthday gift he’d waited ages for, he finally leaned against the wall and looked over at Adrian.
“The Tilon you gave me—I used it well. I won’t ask for your reasons, like I promised… but I’ll repay you in my own way.”
“Repay me? Don’t bother. You don’t have to give anything back.”
“It’s my choice. If you didn’t want that, you should’ve made it a condition.”
“…What?”
Adrian’s refusal didn’t faze Mikhail in the slightest. He just gave a cryptic smile and slid the white longsword back into its sheath.
Didn’t expect him to insist on paying me back, Adrian muttered inwardly.
And after that—Mikhail started acting… a bit odd.
As he followed Mikhail to the table in the school cafeteria, Adrian wrestled with his thoughts. He knew how to reserve a table this whole time? Then why did he always wait around for me to get one first?
Mikhail’s behavior had clearly shifted, though Adrian couldn’t pinpoint exactly what had changed.
When they neared the table, Mikhail picked up his pace slightly and—with a graceful motion straight out of a royal etiquette manual—pulled out Adrian’s chair for him. Students already seated in the cafeteria widened their eyes at the sight, glancing at each other with looks that screamed, Did you see that? Of course I did!
But the center of all that attention, Adrian, didn’t notice any of it.
Just as he casually started to circle the table to sit opposite Mikhail,
“…Hey, are you doing this on purpose?”
“Huh?”
Adrian froze mid-motion, about to sit. Across the table, Mikhail had one hand resting on the back of his own chair, staring at Adrian with a look of thinly veiled irritation.
“Are you pretending not to notice on purpose?”
“……”
A brief silence settled between them. At the next table over, a student eating alone glanced up, startled by Mikhail’s sharp tone. He leaned toward his friend and whispered, “…I think those two are fighting.” Mikhail probably didn’t hear it, but Adrian did.
With a sigh that carried clear frustration, Mikhail furrowed his brow. That’s not how I meant for that to come out… He hadn’t intended to snap, but Adrian’s complete disregard for the gesture had gotten under his skin. Yet, when he saw Adrian’s genuinely puzzled expression, any lingering annoyance quickly faded.
“…Forget it. Just sit.”
Adrian, still half-sitting, crumpled his face.
“What the hell? You can’t just stop mid-sentence like that. You freaked me out.”
“It’s nothing. Just a misunderstanding on my part.”
Mikhail repeated to himself that Adrian wasn’t doing it to be dismissive. Right—Adrian had never been the type to notice things going on around him. Getting irritated would only backfire.
Adrian looked at Mikhail curiously, wondering why he’d flared up and then just as quickly calmed down.
“Misunderstanding? What do you—”
Just as Adrian started to speak, screeech—a cafeteria staff member rolled over with their food. Mikhail gave the server a quick nod, and Adrian quietly shut his mouth and sat upright.
…If he keeps acting this weird, it’s gonna be a problem, Adrian thought as he stared down at the B course meal and the steaming cup of tea set in front of him.
***
On the second day of the Serichane Festival, students were buzzing with excitement, chattering about the latest rumor that had swept through Basamiel just the day before.
The talk of the academy? That none other than Mikhail Luce Inehart had taken possession—early that very morning—of the Fellen Deeps’ Sword, a blade no one in the school’s history had ever been able to claim.
Some dismissed it as idle gossip. Another student countered that claim, insisting he had seen with his own eyes that the sword had vanished from its display in the central hallway of the main building.
But by lunchtime, the matter was no longer in question. Mikhail appeared, walking proudly with Fellen Deeps’ Sword strapped to his waist.
To say the rumor had been put to rest would be an understatement—it had ignited into a wildfire.
“Your Highness, did you enjoy your lunch?”
A voice called out, halting Mikhail mid-stride in the hallway. He lifted a brow and tilted his head slightly, curious what business this student had to block his path. Judging by the color of the student’s necktie, he appeared to be a fourth-year. Adrian, who had been walking beside Mikhail, also came to a stop.
“If it’s not too forward… may I ask if that sword is truly Fellen Deeps’?”
The student’s eyes sparkled as he stared, transfixed, at the weapon hanging at Mikhail’s side. Though his tone was polite, his burning curiosity was impossible to hide.
“…It is.”
Upon hearing Mikhail’s curt reply, the student beamed. “I thought so! Congratulations.” Then, a bit sheepishly, he added the real reason he had approached.
“In that case… I know it’s a lot to ask, but… could you unsheathe it for just a moment? I’ve only ever seen the scabbard on display all these years, and I’ve always been so, so curious about the blade itself.”
He emphasized the “so, so” with dramatic flair.
Adrian glanced sideways at Mikhail, who remained silent, staring at the student. Clearly, this kid had no idea what kind of temperament the prince had. Either that, or he simply wanted to see the sword badly enough to risk getting snapped at.
But what Mikhail did next caught Adrian completely off guard.
Still wearing a slightly surly expression, Mikhail gave the student a small, almost imperceptible nod. Then, resting a hand casually on the hilt, he replied:
“Of course.”
With one smooth motion, he drew the long sword from its scabbard.
From the white sheath emerged an equally pale, gleaming blade that seemed to radiate light. Students passing through the hallway stopped in their tracks, voices breaking into awed murmurs.
“Whoaaa…”
The student who had asked to see it stood frozen, mouth wide open, as if in the presence of divinity itself. Mikhail, looking perfectly satisfied with the reaction, held the sword up fully, as though it were the natural thing to do.
“Wow… this is really…”
The student couldn’t even finish his sentence. Still holding the blade effortlessly in one hand, Mikhail gave a knowing nod and said,
“Looks exactly like the illustration from The Hero and the Sword of the Century, doesn’t it?”
“…!”
The student’s face lit up with shock. Mikhail’s comment echoed precisely what he had just been thinking.
“That’s exactly what I was going to say! It’s just like the illustration!”
“Right? Though the drawing in The Hero and the Sword of the Century looks legit, I noticed a few differences when actually using it.”
“Really? I’ve never held a legendary sword before, so I wouldn’t know. What’s different?”
“In the book, the blade is described as having the same width from hilt to tip—but in reality, it narrows ever so slightly toward the end.”
Lifting the sword, Mikhail pointed along the blade with his index finger to show the tapering. His expression was dead serious.
“Ooh…”
The student across from him nodded eagerly in agreement.
Adrian, watching the whole exchange, suddenly became aware of a gathering presence. Lifting his gaze, he noticed more and more students crowding around Mikhail. Judging by the swords on their hips, they seemed to be from Club Hounds.
Adrian quietly stepped back, distancing himself from the growing crowd around Mikhail.
Immediately, Mikhail’s eyes followed, sharp and quick to track Adrian’s movement. Just as he opened his mouth to call out—
“And then?”
Another student from Club Hounds jumped in with a question.
Mikhail hesitated. By the time he turned his attention back to where Adrian had been, another student had already slipped into the space beside him.
He scanned the faces in the crowd, but Adrian was nowhere to be seen. In front of him, however, all the students watched him with expectant eyes, eager for more.
“…And if you look at the engraving on the hilt—”
Mikhail moved on, explaining the next subtle difference he’d noticed. The crowd hung on every word, nodding, marveling, asking more questions. It was starting to resemble a field trip seminar.
Meanwhile, Adrian let out a soft chuckle and stepped completely away from the scene, walking down the now-chaotic hallway at a leisurely pace.
Behind him, the spirited chatter about Fellen Deeps’ Sword carried on, Mikhail and the others fully immersed in their passionate discussion.
