The second afternoon of the Serichane Festival seemed almost suspiciously perfect, as if someone had chosen the date with the forecast in mind. Brilliant sunlight streamed through the marble corridor in neat, window-shaped patches, and birds chirped cheerfully outside. In stark contrast to the serene weather, Mikhail’s mind was full of turmoil. The beautiful white longsword hanging from his waist swayed in time with his steps.
‘…Why on earth did Adrian give me 5,000 Tilon?’
No matter how much he thought about it, he couldn’t find a reason.
And those words Adrian said as he handed it over—“You’re worthy of wielding Fellen Deeps’ sword.” What was that supposed to mean?
Mikhail’s elegantly arched eyebrows furrowed slightly.
He was on his way back from meeting a client in the central garden. The request had been to accompany them to the art department’s exhibition on the second day of the Serichane Festival. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have given such a request a second glance. Unfortunately, today it had been the highest-paying job in the school newspaper’s “Request of the Day” column.
And an exhibition just meant walking around and glancing at some paintings hung on the wall, didn’t it? Mikhail had thought. Thirty Tilon for a casual stroll—what a ridiculous deal.
‘Whatever the case, I’ll just pay him back. Thanks to him, I got my hands on this sword, after all.’
Of course… at this rate, who knew when he’d actually be able to repay the 5,000 Tilon? Still, that sword had seemed completely out of reach to begin with.
If Adrian had just been an ordinary acquaintance, he would’ve made a vague promise to repay him after graduation with help from the royal family and called it even. But Mikhail was certain Adrian wasn’t the type to care about such things.
‘Even if I tried explaining, he’d probably just say, “Do whatever you want.”’
That’s why Mikhail had revised his strategy. He was going to steadily earn and repay every Tilon.
‘Just imagine how surprised he’ll be when I pay him back. Maybe then he’ll see me differently.’
Adrian undoubtedly believed there was no way Mikhail could return the money. As he walked down the corridor, Mikhail clenched both fists tightly. Before he knew it, he had arrived in front of his dorm room. Letting out a deep sigh, he stepped inside.
As soon as his foot crossed the threshold, Adrian’s voice greeted him.
“You must be enjoying the festival, huh?”
Adrian was speaking to him while staring at an unfurled parchment on the desk. It might’ve just been his imagination, but his voice sounded oddly sullen. Still, it seemed he at least remembered Mikhail’s training schedule like a proper roommate. Mikhail let out a faint chuckle and replied casually.
“…What festival? I’ve just been training more than usual.”
Naturally, that last part was a lie.
Sure, he had been training—but he’d also just come back from fulfilling the highest-paying request in the paper. Not that his pride would ever allow him to admit he’d been doing odd jobs for Tilon.
Mikhail took off his uniform jacket and hung it on the rack. Adrian was busily scribbling with his quill. Walking over to the desk, Mikhail glanced at the parchment spread out in front of him and grimaced.
“You seriously stayed in here all day? Kyle’s the one graduating this year, but you’re acting like it’s your finals.”
The parchment before Adrian was covered in dense, painful-looking formulas. Clicking his tongue, Mikhail began flipping through the stack of parchments piled on the right side of the desk and grumbled with irritation.
“You spend every day looking at this crap—Ordinas, fate, whatever. Don’t you ever get sick of it?”
Isn’t he just overworking you like some glorified assistant? Mikhail muttered under his breath. Adrian merely shrugged. To be honest, he’d never worked as another student’s assistant before. The closest experience he had was helping a professor during last year’s recreational event—and compared to that, this was nothing.
“Boring or not, that’s how research usually goes.”
Besides… if I said I’d do it, then I’ll see it through to the end.
Adrian shrugged again, inwardly reaffirming his resolve. Considering what lay quietly beneath the bed frame next to him—Mikhail and his own “All-Seeing Eye”—this was the obvious choice.
Early that morning, the moment Mikhail had acquired Fellen Deeps’ sword, the weight of two stones had become startlingly light. When Adrian confirmed this, he let out a soft snort.
Heh. He’d spent an entire year analyzing those stupid stones, trying everything to reduce their weight.
And yet all that effort had meant nothing before the force known as “Ordinas.” It had already been predetermined. He’d simply wasted his strength struggling against it. Adrian let out a cold smile at the thought.
He had no desire grand enough to twist the fate already set. The Inehart family seemed to be inextricably entangled with Ordinas. It probably all started when he first offered up his blood to Carlo.
Adrian was determined to sever that tangled web of fate right here. A faint, satisfied smile tugged at his lips as he twirled the quill lightly between his fingers.
Then suddenly, as if remembering something, he looked up and said, “Ah, right,” pointing toward Mikhail’s desk.
“A little while ago, I noticed an exhibition invitation came for you. I found it and left it on your desk.”
What? Mikhail had planned to keep the exhibition visit a secret.
His face stiffened in dismay as he quickly walked over to his desk. There, on top, lay an invitation to the art department’s social club exhibition, beautifully adorned with lace.
As Mikhail unfolded the invitation and checked the dress code inside—
“Going to an exhibition, huh! Acting like you’re not into the festival, but you’re really enjoying Serichane properly. If it’s the art department’s exhibition, you’re going to hear Hans perform, aren’t you?”
“No.”
As if I’d do that. Mikhail shook his head with a sour expression. Adrian should know he wasn’t that close with Hans. At Mikhail’s answer, Adrian nodded slightly and said, “Yeah, that makes sense,” before speaking again.
“…Then there must be a painting you really like.”
“Not a chance.”
Mikhail shook his head once more. Only then did Adrian lean back with a slight squeak of the chair and turn toward him. The repeated denials had piqued his curiosity.
“Oh, right. It must be for the final round of the concours. You’re going to watch that.”
“…No.”
Still wrong? On the third failed guess, Adrian let out a breath and rubbed the back of his neck roughly with his palm. Then, waving a hand lazily, he wrapped up the conversation.
“Alright then. Have fun, anyway.”
The invitation had a section for the companion’s name, and from Adrian’s perspective, Mikhail having more friends was a welcome development. Mikhail, on the other hand, only shot him a disgruntled look before sharply turning his head away.
***
“Whoa, look over there—Mikhail?”
Huh? Lost in thought, Mikhail looked up. The person speaking to him was his exhibition companion, dressed in a light, flowing dress. Smiling, she held a glass of lemonade and pointed toward the band adding atmosphere to the exhibit.
“I was going to tell you—they’re using magic to play the harp.”
It seemed he’d completely forgotten he was here as someone’s companion. Mikhail leaned against the wall with an indifferent expression. Watching him, the client tilted her head.
“I mean, I only put in the request because I didn’t want to come alone… but aren’t you being a little too half-hearted?”
She took a sip of her drink and broke the silence. Perhaps feeling a twinge of guilt, Mikhail replied in a brusque tone.
“…Half-hearted? What am I supposed to do at an exhibition?”
“At least pretend to chat with me a little.”
That’s what I hired you for, after all.
At the same time, she gestured toward a corner of the exhibition hall with her eyes. There stood a male student who flinched noticeably the moment their eyes met, then turned stiffly and walked in the opposite direction. Watching him, the client let out a small snort.
“Look at him skulking around with no courage to confess. He’s been standing there since earlier, you know? If I don’t do something like this, we’ll be in a deadlock until graduation.”
What is he planning—just letting it end like this? she muttered under her breath.
Mikhail, watching the boy retreat with such awkward body language, slowly opened his mouth.
“How do you know?”
She turned toward him with a curious “Hm?”
“How do you know that guy likes you? He might not.”
Pffft. The girl burst out laughing at Mikhail’s completely serious tone.
She found the aloof, cold prince beside her suddenly… kind of cute. Always seen at the training grounds swinging a sword, never saying a word of small talk in the cafeteria or classroom—the distant image of this proud young man suddenly felt softened.
That question… he sounds just like any lovestruck boy his age!
“There’s no way he doesn’t,” she declared confidently. “Every time he goes out, he brings me something saying he thought of me. Buys my meals at the cafeteria without fail. Tries to pretend he’s not interested but watches everything I do. And most of all—whenever I’m nervous about a test or a concours, he cheers me on.”
Mikhail pretended not to care, but he was listening to her story with intense focus. Her words conjured up vivid scenes in his mind.
“You’re worthy of wielding Fellen Deeps’ sword.”
Bang! A firework burst in the air.
And just like that, Adrian’s eyes—bright like sunlight shining from within—flashed through Mikhail’s mind. Come to think of it, he had said not to ask why. So… was it because he was too shy to confess?
Still wearing a serious expression, Mikhail opened his mouth slowly.
“Then… if someone were to give me 5,000 Tilon… would that mean they like me?”
What?!
The girl’s eyes sparkled at Mikhail’s words. Five thousand Tilon?! Who in the world would make such a grand confession to this prince? She was suddenly dying to know.
