The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the arched academy windows, turning the dust motes into drifting gold. Lyrienne Valeor sat behind her polished oak desk, her posture straight, almost regal, as she graded a final stack of essays.
Her appearance was the same quiet elegance the Academy adored:
Her hair, long and pale-golden, was tied loosely with a blue silk ribbon that matched the hue of her teaching robes.
Her eyes, soft amber in color, carried a constant gentleness—even now, when shadows of concern lingered behind them.
Her voice, when she sighed lightly at a poorly written conclusion, was warm enough to soothe even the most nervous student.
And her hands, graceful and steady, moved across the parchment with a scholar's practiced care.
Anyone passing her door would think she was calm.
But beneath that still surface, Lyrienne Valeor lived with caution woven into her bones.
So when the gentle knock sounded, she felt a small ripple of unease.
A courier bowed.
"Lady Valeor… a letter from House Drakan."
Her heart tightened—not with fear, but with that familiar dread of what Veinhelm might do next.
Still, she thanked the courier softly and waited for the door to close.
She studied the envelope carefully.
Strange.
The seal was too perfect—handled by someone meticulous.
She slid a finger under the flap and opened it with deliberate calm.
Inside, the handwriting greeted her like a stranger:
Not overflowing with dramatic flourishes and overwritten sentiment.
It wasn't Veinhelm's handwriting. It was much more professional.
Her breath stilled as she began reading.
Lady Lyrienne Valeor,
I have read your message...
…..You owe House Drakan nothing, and I require nothing from you. You will receive no interference from me now or in the future. Our paths no longer intersect. That is all.
,Veinhelm Drakan.
A soft, stunned breath escaped her.
"…No way," she whispered. "This… this can't be from him."
She read the letter again.
And again.
Each repetition only sharpened the uncanny dissonance between the words and the man she knew.
Veinhelm Drakan did not write to her like this.
Veinhelm Drakan did not act towards her like this. In fact, he clung to her too tightly. He chased her intensely like an obsessed maniac.
This letter felt more like a official decree.
Not the emotional recklessness she expected—but something far more unsettling.
She leaned back slightly, her golden hair slipping over her shoulder.
"…Did he even read my letter?" she murmured.
Her suspicion grew.
The letter weighed heavily in Lyrienne's hands, its cold finality echoing inside her chest with each breath she took.
Her pale-gold hair slipped over her shoulder as she stood, smoothing her robes. She looked calm — but her amber eyes betrayed the storm beneath the surface.
She needed answers.
And only one person in the Academy was both wise enough and capable enough to give them.
*
*
*
Lyrienne crossed the Academy courtyard, students bowing politely as she passed, unaware of the turmoil burning in her heart.
Past floating lanterns that hummed with living mana. At last, she reached the door of the Headmistress. A sign hung crookedly on the wood, written in cheerful handwriting:
Knock loudly! I pretend not to hear otherwise
Lyrienne exhaled — half anxious, half amused despite herself — and knocked twice.
Immediately, a lively voice chimed from within
"Come in, dear! Unless you're a professor, then go away!"
Lyrienne pushed the door open.
The office was a swirl of bright colors and floating magical quills. A tea kettle poured itself into a tiny glass cup. Books rearranged themselves on shelves with a soft hum.
Headmistress Aelira , an elf who looked both centuries old and permanently youthful. Long hair like sunlit silver, braided with tiny crystals. Eyes bright gold, warm as morning light. A smile that seemed almost too cheerful for someone rumored to have defeated a dragon. Robes of soft yellow and white, glowing faintly with enchantments. Both boots propped on her desk as she scribbled into a floating notebook.
She looked up, eyes sparkling.
"Lyrienne! You look troubled. Did a student write a horrible essay again? "
Lyrienne forced a small smile.
"No, Headmistress. It's… not that."
Aelira gasped and sat up straighter.
"Oh heavens, is it worse? Did someone break the alchemy lab again?"
"…No."
"Well then come over here, dear! Bring the doom and gloom!"
Lyrienne stepped forward and offered her the letter.
Aelira's cheerful expression didn't fade — but her eyes sharpened as she saw the seal.
"Oh? A letter from House Drakan?"
She wiggled her fingers and the envelope floated into her hand.
"Let's take a peek!"
...
Her smile faded — not completely, but halfway, like a candle flickering in sudden wind.
"Oho," she whispered.
Lyrienne's heart tightened.
"Oho dear."
Aelira held the letter up to the light.
A glowing spell-circle appeared above it of its own accord.
Lyrienne stiffened. "Is something wrong?"
"Nothing wrong!" Aelira said brightly.
"But…. something interesting!"
She hopped off her desk — literally hopped — and moved closer, waving the letter like it was a child's drawing.
"This isn't Veinhelm's usual writing at all! He normally writes like someone wrestling a pack of angry wolves! "
Lyrienne lowered her gaze.
"Yes, I did notice that "
"But this?" Aelira tapped the letter.
"This is tidy and cold almost emotionless. Like someone who cleaned out their heart with a broom!"
Lyrienne hesitated.
"…Do you think it was actually him who wrote it?"
Aelira grinned.
"Oh yes. Absolutely! The seal's genuine, the mana signature matches his family bloodline, and the ink strokes show the slight drag of his right wrist!"
Lyrienne's breath hitched. So he did write it…
But Aelira's cheerful tone suddenly softened, becoming something older… and deeper.
"But what matters, my dear Lyrienne," she said gently, "is not whether he wrote it or not. "
She reached out and placed a warm hand on Lyrienne's shoulder.
"It is whether the Veinhelm you knew was the one who wrote it."
Lyrienne's amber eyes widened.
"…?"
Aelira shook her head slowly.
Her golden eyes shimmered with ageless clarity.
"That boy who chased you, adored you, frightened you…
he did not write this."
She tapped the letter against her palm.
Aelira smiled — soft, kind, but edged with seriousness.
"And that," she added quietly, "is the most dangerous kind of change."
Lyrienne's fingers tightened at her side.
" After all of that? like this? " she whispered. " All of sudden?"
"Mmhm!" Aelira said with a gentle nod.
"Tell me, dear… when Veinhelm Drakan cuts you out of his picture—Why would he make such a decision? Did something happen between the two of you?"
A chill traveled down Lyrienne's spine.
She had no answer.
*
*
*
Back at the Drakans Estate,
The study was quiet after the courier left.
A controlled knock sounded at the door — soft, but unmistakably firm.
"Enter," I said.
Alexander stepped inside.
His posture was perfect military discipline, his expression steeled into that familiar calm coldness.
But beneath it — faint, nearly invisible — lingered concern.
He bowed. "My lord "
I nodded for him to speak.
"I was informed that you sent personal correspondence to Lady Valeor," Alexander said, his tone steady, respectful. "I wished to confirm it directly."
"Yes," I replied. "The engagement is over, cancel everything related to it "
Alexander processed this with a single blink — his only visible reaction.
"I see."
No judgment. Just acceptance.
But then, slowly, his brows tightened by a fraction — almost imperceptible.
"My lord," he said carefully, "if I may… I have never known you to release something so easily, specially something you held so tightly."
I looked at him.
Alexander did not flinch.
His voice remained cold, even, formal. But loyalty shaped every word.
"I do not question your decision," he said.
"Nor do I presume to know your heart better than you do."
He lowered his chin — a gesture of respect, not submission.
"However, I fear that something may have weighed upon you to make such a choice so abruptly."
I narrowed my eyes slightly.
"You believe I acted under strain."
"No, my lord," Alexander said immediately. His voice gained a faint vibration — concern, tightly restrained.
"I believe you may be carrying a burden alone."
He stepped forward just slightly.
"My loyalty is to you, Lord Veinhelm Drakan. Not to the engagement. Not to political convenience."
The words were firm. Absolute.
"I will follow wherever you walk," he said, "but I cannot stand idle if my lord suffers quietly."
I let the silence stretch.
Alexander held his posture with unwavering discipline.
"As your knight," he said quietly,
"I only ask this: if something troubles you… allow me to bear even a fraction of it."
I exhaled slowly.
"Rest assured, there is no such thing " I said.
Alexander bowed his head.
And for the first time, his cold voice softened.
"Then I am relieved, my lord," he said.
"Because losing something cherished does not always wound the heart… but losing it suddenly often does."
I didn't respond.
He stepped back toward the door.
But before leaving, he paused — only for a moment.
"My lord," he said without turning,
"You have changed. If that change brings you peace, then I will accept it without question."
He bowed once more and left quietly.
And the study fell into silence again.
" Veinhelm… you lucky idiot…. "
Even in game, Alexander's loyalty was unmatched. Despite veinhelm's horrible personality he still defended him till the end.
*
*
*
Marienne, Veinhelm's only cousin pushed the study door open harder than she meant to.
Veinhelm looked up from his desk, calm as still water.
She stepped inside, closing the door behind her with a soft click, her fingers trembling for a second before she caught herself.
"So…" she said, trying to steady herself.
"You ended it."
Veinhelm rested his quill on the table.
"Yes."
Marienne let out a small breath — not a sigh, not anger — just a sound of disbelief trying to remain composed.
"You're serious," she murmured. "You really… did it."
Veinhelm nodded.
The sight of him — composed, rational, emotionless — made something in her chest tighten.
This wasn't the boy she grew up with.
This wasn't the cousin she yelled at, dragged out of trouble, scolded, defended, cursed, and loved in her own rough way.
" What happened to you? "
Marienne took a step closer, rubbing the side of her arm with her thumb — a subtle gesture of unease she rarely let anyone see.
"You've been chasing that girl since you were old enough to spell her name," she said, her voice wavering despite her effort.
"You drove everyone insane including me. I hated watching you hurt yourself over her."
She swallowed, eyes flicking away.
"But I still… understood you. At least a little."
Veinhelm didn't speak.
That silence — steady, emotionless, impenetrable — made her eyes flash with something raw.
"Veinhelm," she said, stepping right up to the desk, "you didn't even talk to her. You just cut her off."
"It was the correct decision " he said softly.
She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in through her nose like someone fighting for composure.
"Well," she whispered. "Good for you, I suppose." But the quiver in her voice betrayed her.
When she opened her eyes again, they weren't angry. They were hurt and confused.
"You know," she said, her voice cracking, "I spent half my life cursing you for embarrassing this family. For embarrassing me all the time."
She gave a shaky laugh.
"And now I see you like this and I… I don't know what to do with this."
Veinhelm remained still.
Marienne stared at him, her hands twisting
A tear gathered at the corner of her eye — one she stubbornly blinked away before it could fall.
Veinhelm lowered his gaze slightly, but said nothing.
Marienne looked at him for a long moment — and her expression softened, fragile in a way she would deny if anyone asked.
"…If you're hurting," she said, "you can tell me."
"I'm not," he answered.
Her breath shuddered at that.
He truly felt nothing.
She took one slow step back.
"Veinhelm…" Her voice trembled.
"Please don't shut out everyone at once. Becoming the lord doesn't mean you have to act like this."
Her eyes shimmered — but she blinked the tears away, jaw tightening, forcing her fierceness back into place.
She reached for the doorknob.
Paused.
And whispered, barely audible
"…Idiot."
She slipped out of the room, closing the door softly behind her.
" a caring cousin as well…. Veinhelm… you bastard "