Eris's red eyes suddenly narrowed, the excitement on her face freezing mid-expression.
In the blink of an eye—
From beneath his right rib, Allen's hand darted out in a backhand motion, without even turning his head. His fingers flicked lightly yet precisely against her wooden sword.
Bang!
The instant his fingertip struck the blade, the wooden sword exploded into fragments behind them, one splinter shooting straight toward Eris's eye.
But before it could hit, a gust of wind caught it, spinning it like a leaf before embedding it neatly into the crack between the stone floor tiles.
A burst of wind exploded between them—
Their clothes whipped and rustled under the force.
Feeling the air currents in front of her, Eris raised her head in a daze to look at Allen.
He had already turned his head toward her.
Sensing the fighting spirit dispersed in the air, Allen narrowed his eyes.
"Battle aura. This time, I felt it—you did it."
"Not much, but in that final strike, you wrapped your sword in battle aura."
As Eris's eyes widened, he declared:
"Congratulations, Eris. You've become an advanced swordsman."
Eris's mouth curved into a wide grin, and she shouted immediately, "Really?!"
"Really."
She jumped in place, hooked both arms around Allen's neck, swinging herself like a child on a swing to express her joy.
Letting go, she landed steadily on the ground and strode toward Ghislane with a smile.
"Ghislane, I finally became an advanced swordsman!"
She dove into Ghislane's arms.
The latter smiled and patted her head.
"Allen's a good teacher. Congratulations, Eris."
"Of course! Allen's the best!"
Even in her joy, the corners of Eris's mouth still drooped on both sides—though her chin was tilted so high it might touch the sky.
Rudy watched her doting-brother act and couldn't help twitching his lips.
Then he turned to look at Allen in the training ground.
Allen, however, had tilted his head to look toward the second floor of the mansion nearby.
Rudy followed his gaze toward a window upstairs.
Gone was the figure in a red dress with red hair who had stood there every day during sword lessons for the past few months.
Sylphy was absent too.
For the past three months, the two of them had stood there together every afternoon watching the sword training.
Originally, Sylphy had joined the lessons in the courtyard.
But after a couple of times seeing that scene, she began spending the time upstairs with Lady Hilda instead.
Pressing close to the floor-to-ceiling windows, their expressions could be clearly seen.
Over the three months, Rudy had noticed that Lady Hilda's smile grew more frequent and radiant.
But for some reason, Sylphy's smile disappeared—she often only turned her head to watch Lady Hilda's face in silence.
Then—
Half a month ago, that scene vanished entirely.
Because Lady Hilda fell ill.
The cause—unknown.
Doctors claimed there was nothing physically wrong with her.
But she was indeed sick, and had been bedridden for over half a month.
Since the first heavy snow of winter.
Rudy remembered clearly—
Because the day it snowed was Allen's birthday.
"How is Lady Hilda?"
At the question, Eris's smile froze and Ghislane's expression stiffened.
Both fell silent.
In the first week of Hilda's illness, they had all been worried. But when the doctor declared her body was fine, they fell into days of stunned confusion.
Classes were nearly all suspended that week.
Then, under Sylphy's stern urging, they resumed lessons and agreed not to bring emotional baggage into the training—after all, the doctor had said Hilda was fine.
But—
When the distraction of sword drills or other lessons was gone, even someone as thick-skinned as Eris would grow tense instantly.
They still worried.
The three turned to look at Allen.
He stared silently at the empty window, then turned to them.
"That's it for today's lesson. Let's go visit her together."
——
"Shh—keep your voices down, Lady Hilda just fell asleep."
They arrived at Hilda's bedroom door.
Arifa bent at the waist, whispering solemnly. The usual blush she wore when seeing Allen had been absent these past two weeks.
She carefully gripped the door handle and eased it open.
The setting sun spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows, bathing the room in golden light.
Sylphy stood before the window, turning her head to look back. The light caught her white hair, tinting her face pink.
Her eyes blinked instinctively at the sight of Allen.
In her pupils, Allen led the others forward—each step soundless.
The change was most striking in Eris. The lively stride of an advanced swordsman was gone, replaced by cautious, measured steps, as though afraid to make a sound.
They reached the sofa by the window.
Hilda lay on her side upon it. The usual immaculate, elegant hairstyle was gone; her red hair hung loose and disheveled. For convenience, she rested here during the day so they could visit after class.
Her eyes were closed, her body curled tightly—whether from cold or another reason—and her cheeks were noticeably thinner than a few months ago.
Even in sleep, her face looked weary.
But her hand was tightly held.
Not by Sylphy.
Allen followed the line of her arm.
Her hand was gently cradled in a pair of bony, masculine hands, as though afraid to disturb her—or perhaps she slept only because of this person's presence.
Philip—the man who had invited her to dance thirteen years ago in the banquet hall.
The usually busy mayor of Roa sat before the sofa, still exuding noble grace, yet his gaze rested silently on his wife's hand, lost in thought.
"Father…" Eris approached, calling softly.
Philip lifted his eyes.
His normally smiling gaze was tired, bloodshot.
Stubble shadowed his jaw.
He glanced at Allen and gave a slight nod, saying nothing.
They locked eyes for a moment.
Then Philip gently set Hilda's hand down and straightened, tilting his chin toward the sofa—signaling them not to disturb her and to speak outside.
Allen nodded, starting to turn away—
But then he felt his wrist grasped.
He looked down.
Slender fingers wrapped around his wrist.
Following the touch upward—
A pale wrist, narrow shoulders, delicate neck—
And beneath white hair, a face.
Reddish-brown eyes met his.
Allen blinked, sensing something.
He lowered his gaze, tilting his head slightly.
On the sofa—
At some point, Hilda's eyes had opened.
She was looking at him.
The sunset outside reflected in her dark-gray pupils, glimmering with ripples of light.
Now—
At this moment—
It was the end of class time.
She couldn't sleep peacefully.
(End of Chapter)
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