“Who the hell responds to a confession like that?”
“…Mikhail. Why are you the one making a fuss?”
Adrian let out a faint, incredulous chuckle as he neatly tapped his textbook and the letter together. Cage was still frozen in place, too stunned to say a word. Mikhail glanced at her expression, then pointed a finger at her as he continued.
“Look at her face. You could’ve at least turned her down gently, with a bit of tact.”
“…Mikhail, …thank you.”
Tears had welled up in Cage’s blue eyes before anyone noticed. She was barely managing to hold back her sobs with quiet hiccups and sniffles. You weren’t supposed to be like this, Mikhail… Warmth rose in her chest. You always seemed cold, but you stood up for me. She rubbed her sleeve against her eyes, wiping away the tears as the thought crossed her mind.
Though there’s no need to feel grateful.
Just moments ago, Mikhail had followed them with full expectations of witnessing a sweet, budding romance between Adrian and Cage Ritana. In his imagination, they made a perfect couple. The granddaughter of a renowned academic family and the heir to the Hedera trading firm? Of course their families would be thrilled.
Naturally, he hadn’t come to defend Cage out of sympathy. He simply found himself irritated by Adrian’s cold indifference—rejecting someone like that, right in front of her face.
Adrian glanced at the quietly sniffling Cage with a slightly awkward expression. Then, extending a hesitant hand, he lightly patted her trembling back. Tap, tap. Cage began sobbing harder at the gesture, as if the clumsy touch had only deepened her sorrow.
“Sorry, I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.”
The apology slipped out without much thought—he figured since she was crying, he might as well try to comfort her. But he had no intention of taking back his rejection. Mikhail caught that fact instantly in Adrian’s impassive gaze, then looked back at the sobbing Cage with a grimace. She seems like a good person… too bad she fell for someone like him.
After a few awkward pats, Adrian’s cool hand retreated, and Cage slowly twisted away, seemingly regaining a bit of composure. He froze mid-motion at her shift.
“I’m fine now… I’ll go ahead…”
Her voice was still tinged with tears, but that was all. She’d gotten her answer—he didn’t feel anything for her. There was no point in clinging to something that wasn’t there.
“Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow. Take care.”
“…”
Adrian rubbed the back of his neck as he watched Cage’s retreating figure disappear in haste. Mikhail clicked his tongue, shaking his head in disapproval as he glared at Adrian, now left alone in front of the statue.
“Making a girl cry on the first day of the term? You’re the worst.”
Adrian sharply turned his head at the remark. The worst? Hearing that from Mikhail—who probably made at least a couple dozen girls cry in his own time—was a hit to the pride.
“And why did you butt in all of a sudden?”
“I already told you. I was just passing by.”
“You were just passing by? The training grounds are in the opposite direction.”
“…That’s none of your business.”
Mikhail mumbled defensively. Then, realizing how that sounded, he awkwardly added, “There’s a training hall in this building too, alright?” A lame excuse, even to his own ears. Hm? Adrian gave him a look, but decided it wasn’t worth pressing further and simply shook his head.
***
The grand banquet hall of Basamiel, used during the entrance ceremony, was once again packed with students. Unlike back then, they now had friends and had grown more familiar with the academy, and so the atmosphere was lively—freshmen and upperclassmen alike wore cheerful expressions. Of course, the biggest reason for the joy was that this wasn’t one of their usual boring classes.
“Everyone, please gather with your groups!”
A young man, likely a teaching assistant, raised his voice to quiet the crowd.
Following his instructions, the students began moving toward their designated group areas. Adrian and Mikhail stood side by side at the very back of Garnet Group. The assistant looked over the gathered students with a nod, then waved his hand toward the front of the hall with a few flicks of his fingers.
Blue particles of mana sparkled into the air, forming a flawless podium in the open space—then dissipated just as quickly with a soft shimmer. The assistant clapped twice. At the same moment, the open curtains drew closed with a fluid shraaack, cutting off the sunlight that had been pouring into the hall.
That was the signal. Everything was ready.
“Teor, thank you as always.”
A crisp, clear voice rang out through the banquet hall. The students, who had been chatting in small groups, instantly fell silent and turned their heads toward the front. With the rhythmic sound of poised footsteps, someone radiating overwhelming presence stepped into view. Naturally, it was Declaire Foster.
Each time she moved, her long, wavy hair shimmered and danced with elegance.
“It’s been a while. I can feel the young energy rushing back into Basamiel after the quiet of the break.”
Declaire offered a soft smile to the students gazing up at her with bright, eager eyes. From that expression alone, it was clear that what she’d once said by the lake—that she couldn’t stand noisy kids—hadn’t exactly been sincere.
“As you all know, there’s something held every autumn at Basamiel. It’s the biggest source of annual revenue for our social clubs… but also the biggest source of their spending. Though the festival lasts only three days, nearly an entire semester is spent preparing for it. Ah, should I be upset that students get distracted from their studies because of it?”
The students burst into laughter—young, carefree giggles befitting their age. Some even made ridiculous claims like, We didn’t come to the academy to study, anyway! It was cute, but if their parents considered the gold spent on tuition, it was no laughing matter.
“Still, this festival isn’t held just for fun. During the semester, each department selects a representative—an individual of the year, so to speak. They become the stars of the opening party, officially kicking off the event. The Arts Department hosts an interdisciplinary competition where every artistic field competes under a single theme. The Knight and Magic Departments hold martial arts tournaments. As for the Spirit, Alchemy, and Administration Departments, selections are made based on student patents or academic papers. Not just book knowledge, but practical skill! That is the true spirit of Basamiel.”
Declaire sounded more excited than the students as she spoke.
“Personally, my favorite part is the martial arts tournament, where blood is spilled and dangerous magic flies. The final round tickets are pretty pricey, so I recommend grabbing them as soon as they’re released. Now then, shall we ring in the new semester and open the festival?”
With a playful grin, Declaire stretched out her arm toward the hall of students, palm turned upward, as if inviting them to take the stage.
“And its name is—!”
Thud! Several students stomped their feet in unison, creating a loud boom that echoed through the hall. At that signal, the crowd erupted into cheers and began waving their arms in the air.
“The Serichane Festival, the flower of Basamiel!”
Pop! With a soft burst, delicate petals began drifting down from somewhere high above the banquet hall. Students beamed as they tried to catch the fluttering blossoms falling over their heads.
“I’m looking forward to it, too. That’s why you were all called here today. Now, back to your classes.”
Having said her piece, the headmistress descended from the stage with the same grace and precision she’d shown upon arriving. The teaching assistant who had first conjured the podium stepped forward again and used magic to tidy up the banquet hall.
As Adrian began walking out with the rest of the students, blending into the crowd—
“Adrian, did you have a good break?”
The voice came from the front of the hall—it was Olivia Riney, the professor who taught the Spirit Arts class. Adrian stopped mid-step and turned to give her a polite nod.
“Professor, hello. It’s been a while.”
“Yes, yes. You remember what we talked about before, don’t you?”
Ah, right. The job Olivia had offered him before the break—a teaching assistant position worth 1,000 Tilon. The moment he recalled it, Adrian’s face lit up as he reached out to shake her hand.
“Of course. Shall we start today?”
“That would be great, if you’re available. I’ve had it up to here with Kyle complaining that the project’s delayed due to a lack of help. Here’s the 500 Tilon we discussed.”
“Ah, thank you.”
Olivia lightly brushed the back of her hand with her fingers, then extended her hand toward Adrian. He touched her fingers to complete the contract, and the system displayed confirmation.
[732 Tilon]
He glanced down at his faintly glowing hand.
Kyle? At the mention of the name from Olivia’s lips, one particular student immediately came to Adrian’s mind.
