The next day.
The classroom buzzed with its usual morning energy as students filed in, chatting among themselves. Yet today, the air felt a little different—filled with whispers about yesterday's incident.
A girl with sleek black hair leaned toward her friends, her eyes shining with excitement. "Did you hear? Balka and Raltia got suspended from the academy!"
"Really?" her friends gasped in delight, barely containing their joy.
"Thank goodness. Raltia's finally gone," one girl said with a sigh of relief. "The whole class was fed up with her ridiculous schemes anyway."
"Yeah," another added seriously. "I always felt uncomfortable around her… like if I accidentally crossed her, I'd regret it for life."
One more friend spoke up with a grim tone. "Exactly. In Raltia's eyes, anyone who stood in her way was as good as ruined."
At that moment, the classroom door slid open. Aslan entered with his friends, his hair messy as if he had just rolled out of bed. He strolled in lazily, running a hand through his messy hair, looking every bit like someone who couldn't care less about the gossip swirling around him.
Aslan's gaze swept over the classroom.
The classroom was noisier than usual.
"Hey, Alice," Aslan leaned slightly toward him, speaking in a low voice. "Isn't the class a bit too noisy today?"
Alice nodded. "Oh, this? They're all talking about yesterday's incident."
Without paying much attention, Aslan and his friends took their usual seats at the front. But Aslan's gaze lingered on the chatter around the room.
From the doorway, the boy from yesterday entered with his group of friends. They sat a row behind Aslan, to his left, their voices immediately joining the buzz of the room.
Aslan turned, watching them quietly for a moment, before shifting his head back toward his own group. "Why is the professor late today?" he asked.
Cael gave a casual reply. "He has to sort out yesterday's incident first."
The others picked up conversation again, but Aslan's attention remained fixed on the classroom behind him.
The boy's friends, worry evident in their voices, asked him, "What's going to happen to you after what you did yesterday?"
Aslan tilted his head slightly, listening in.
The boy leaned back in his chair, arrogance dripping from his words. "What's going to happen? What can Nyelle even do?"
Aslan's hand clenched tightly on the desk. A flicker of anger crossed his face at those words.
"Still…" one of the boy's friends said awkwardly, "she's the Marquis's daughter."
The boy laughed scornfully. "So what? At her previous academy, things like this happened all the time. And no one ever did anything about it."
At that, Aslan's expression shifted. Surprise flickered in his eyes, his face momentarily going blank.
The boy's tone grew harsher, laced with disdain. "She's the youngest child. Her family doesn't care about her. All that happened back then, and they still did nothing."
Aslan glared at them, biting his lower lip, lost in his own thoughts.
George placed a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back to the present.
Just then, the professor entered the room with Nyelle beside him.
Aslan's eyes immediately fell on her.
The professor walked to the board and announced in a firm tone:
"I will call out names one by one. Each of you must step out of your seat and stand in front of me."
"Lily. Kiyo. John. Sophia…"
The classroom froze. Students exchanged nervous glances, whispering among themselves in confusion.
"What's happening?"
"Why is he calling names?"
One by one, pale-faced and trembling, the chosen students stood before the professor. Even the boy who had been confident before now looked completely shocked.
Nyelle stood beside the professor with her arms crossed, tapping her fingers on her left arm. Her face was serious—Her deathly stare was fixed on each student who rose from their seat.
Aslan, confused and worried, looked at her. Suddenly, Nyelle's gaze shifted to him. Her expression softened, and a bright smile lit her face as she smiled at him.
Aslan blinked, caught off guard.
When the professor had finished reading the list, he declared:
"All of these students will be confined in the Discipline Room for two months."
The entire class erupted.
"What?! Two months?"
"Professor, please, we didn't do anything!"
Some began sobbing, some begged desperately, and others shook their heads in denial.
But the professor's voice cut through their protests:
"You accused Nyelle of theft without evidence. Not only that—you attempted to harm her."
Gasps spread through the classroom. The accused shouted louder, but the professor silenced them with a gesture and ordered them out.
Before leaving, the professor turned back to the stunned class.
"For the rest of you—today is a free period."
After a while—Eiren, George, Alice, and Cael were chatting casually in the corridor.
"Hey, did you hear? Nyelle's father and the principal wanted to suspend those students. But Nyelle stopped them… so they were only sent to the discipline room for two months," George explained.
Alice nodded. "Well, you can't underestimate the Marquise family. They're among the top five noble rich families, and her siblings all hold top positions. But Nyelle has never shown even a hint of arrogance."
Just then, Nyelle walked up to them. A bright smile lit her face—completely different from the serious Nyelle of that morning. No stern tone, no sadness… now she looked cheerful through and through.
"Hey guys, do you know where Aslan is?" she asked.
Eiren smiled. "Oh… he's at the sports ground behind the garden. Wasn't feeling too well earlier, so he probably went there to clear his head."
"Oh, thanks guys!" Nyelle said, stepping forward. Then she turned back with a cheerful smile, waved her hand, and called out—"Bye guys! I'll see you later!"
Aslan sat on a bench near the sports ground, lazily watching the students practice. A yawn slipped out, and he covered his mouth with one hand, his posture slouched and careless.
"Here you are!"
He turned his head to the left, flinching slightly at the sudden voice.
Nyelle stood there, bent over with her hands on her knees, catching her breath. "Hah… hah…" She straightened up after a moment, smoothing her hair as she tried to steady her breathing, before her eyes finally met his.
"I wanted to thank you," she said softly, her tone unusually gentle.
Aslan blinked, clearly puzzled. "For what?"
"For yesterday."
Aslan just stared at her for a moment, his expression unreadable.
Nyelle hesitated, then quietly sat down on the other side of the bench, leaving a gap between them.
Aslan frowned and said in a blunt tone,
"Are you dumb?"
"Pardon?!" Nyelle's eyes widened, her cheeks puffed, her voice rising in mock anger. "You're dumb!"
She crossed her arms, her face scrunched up like a sulking child.
"I mean… they're just using you. And yet you still keep them as your friends?" Aslan's voice was sharp, almost irritated.
Nyelle didn't reply immediately. She just stared at him quietly. Then, turning her gaze forward, she whispered,
"Yes. I knew from the very start that they were only using me."
Aslan blinked, startled. "You knew? Then why—?"
"Because…" She bit her lip, her voice trembling as if holding back tears. "Because I wanted friends. Even if they were fake, even if it was all a lie… I just wanted someone to call me their friend."
Her voice cracked at the last word.
"People hate it when someone lies about being their friend," she continued softly. "But me? I… I would rather be lied to. I'd rather someone call me a friend, even if it's not real."
Her tone was fragile, heavy with pain—like each word was breaking something inside her.
"Just once… I want someone to say it." Her voice trembled. "To tell me, I'm your friend. I'll always be with you."
Aslan's expression softened and spoke gently.
"Nyelle… I'll always be with you."
Slowly, she turned her head toward him, her eyes glistening as she stared in silence.
Aslan let a mischievous smirk creep onto his face.
Nyelle's cheeks puffed in anger, and with a small huff she slapped his shoulder.
"Stop teasing me!"
"Ouch, that hurt," Aslan chuckled, rubbing the spot with exaggerated drama.
"So you realized I was just teasing you?"
"Hehe."
Nyelle smiled warmly.
A boy who built walls to protect himself,
and a girl who sought doors to keep from being alone.
No one could name the bond they shared.
Their paths crossed not by promise, not by love, not even by friendship,
but by the quiet ache of two souls searching.
Not too far away, at the edge of the ground, two boys had cornered a gray-haired beast boy. They shoved him against the wall, their mocking voices sharp and cruel.
"Hey, what did we say? Hand over all your money," one bully barked.
"I… I don't have any with me," the beast boy muttered, clutching his bag.
The boy snatched it from his hands, shaking it so that everything spilled onto the dirt. Books, pencils, and a small wrapped snack scattered across the ground.
The beast boy dropped to his knees, scrambling to gather them—until a heavy boot pressed down on his hand, pinning him in place.
"This thing?" the bully sneered. "Even insects are better than this mutt. At least they're useful."
The other laughed. "Exactly. He's just an animal. You can't call something like this human."
The beast boy kept his head low, his shoulders trembling. He knew—if he moved his hand, if he dared to lift his face—they would only beat him harder.
"Disgusting. Pathetic. Why would the academy even admit trash like you?"
The words cut through the air, cruel and unrelenting.
Aslan and Nyelle were still speaking when the harsh laughter reached them. Aslan's gaze shifted over almost lazily—until one line froze him in place.
The bullies sneered, their voices dripping with disdain.
"Bet your mother killed herself out of shame after giving birth to a disgusting insect like you."
They kicked the gray-haired boy again, laughter echoing cruelly across the ground.
As soon as those words reached Aslan's ears, his expression went blank. A sudden chill crawled up his spine as sweat poured down his face. His legs trembled, as though the earth beneath him had vanished.
Every time he heard a line like that—his body betrayed him. His chest tightened. His heartbeat roared in his ears.
Ba-dump. Ba-dump.
His face turned pale. His lips quivered uncontrollably.
"Aslan?" Nyelle's worried voice reached him, but it felt distant, muffled, like he was underwater.
He couldn't answer.
A memory struck him like lightning.
A black-haired woman—falling, collapsing to the ground.
Flashes.
Ten-year-old boys standing around a desk, their white shirts crisp, their laughter sharp and cruel.
"Your mother died because of you!" they jeered, their laughter tearing into his heart like blades.
"Lan! Aslan!"
Nyelle placed her hand on his shoulder, her voice urgent and full of concern. Her voice finally broke through the haze.
"Aslan!"
His eyes snapped back to the present, his whole body trembling in fear.
He wheezed, breathing hard, his chest heaving. Slowly—too slowly—he turned his head toward her, dazed and trembling, his face pale and drenched in sweat.
"You're… burning up," she whispered, worry and fear etching deep into her face. "Aslan… you have a high fever."
Aslan couldn't breathe. It felt as though an invisible hand was pressing down on his throat, cutting off every bit of air.
Nyelle, with her hand, was trying to help him sit up. But the moment Aslan was lifted halfway, his body jolted violently.
But the moment Aslan was lifted halfway, his body jolted violently.
A sudden jolt struck his heart.
Badump.
His chest clenched, a sharp sting tearing through him. His face froze, drained of all color, as though life had been ripped away in an instant. The world blurred before his eyes, everything dissolving into a dizzy haze.
Then his body gave out and he stumbled back onto the bench.
He wasn't unconscious—just trembling, breath shallow.
"Aslan!!" Nyelle's scream cracked with fear, her hands trembling as she tried to catch him.