[The Next Day.]
My morning began the same as always—a run through the quiet, dew-kissed paths of the noble dorms. My feet hit the ground in a steady rhythm, a familiar drumming that brought a sense of discipline and control to a world that often felt utterly chaotic.
I pushed myself, past the point of comfort, until every muscle screamed and sweat clung to me like a second skin. It was a kind of pain I understood, a reward for effort.
By the time I finally stopped, I felt wrung out, emptied of the day's potential anxieties, yet strangely alive. My lungs burned, my heart hammered against my ribs, and my mind was clear, focused on the simple, visceral feeling of exhaustion.
A long shower came after. I let the hot water beat down on me, a cascade of steam and warmth. It was a cleansing ritual, not just for my body, but for the fatigue, for the weight of yesterday's mind games and the hollow ache of my own past. I let it all swirl down the drain, as though it never existed.
When I stepped out, a towel slung around my shoulders, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. My body was lean, shaped by years of disciplined effort and training, and my face… well, even I had to admit it.
Handsome. Striking, even. My jawline was sharp, my eyes a cool, appraising gray, and my dark hair, still damp from the shower, framed a face that belonged on a portrait. I lingered there, a ghost of a smirk on my lips, almost amused. Why not admire it? Anyone else would, if they were in my place. And I just happen to save them the trouble.
I turned my head, studying my profile, then leaned in closer to examine a faint scar above my left eyebrow. A souvenir from an old training bout, a reminder that even the perfect facade could be nicked.
The knowledge was strangely satisfying. I didn't have to be perfect; I just had to look it. And only after I'd admired myself enough—striking a few poses here and there, just to confirm how unfairly good-looking I was—did I finally decide I was satisfied.
With that, I threw on my clothes and strolled out of my room, steps light, casual, as though the world itself had nothing better to do than wait for me.
In the hall, the scent of fresh bread and sizzling meat was a promise of nourishment.
Roselyn was already there, adjusting the plates on the table with her usual precision, her movements as quiet and graceful as a dance.
She heard my approach before I said a word. "Good timing, Young Master. The breakfast is ready. Would you like to have it now?"
I stretched my neck lazily, feigning thought, before answering, "Mm, yes… why not? Let's not keep perfection waiting."
"Fufu, you with your always playful words, Young Master." Her tone was light, but there was a flicker of genuine fondness in her eyes, a kind of warmth that I was still getting used to.
"Did you say something?" I asked, sliding into my seat, a small, knowing smirk on my face.
"Nothing, Young Master. I'll just serve you the food." She lowered her gaze, filling my plate with practiced care. Her fingers brushed the side of the plate, and for a moment, I saw the ghost of a blush on her cheeks. She was so transparent, so beautifully and innocently honest, and the contrast to the rest of my life was almost jarring.
Breakfast was a well-balanced spread: perfectly cooked eggs, thick slices of bacon, and toast, with a side of steamed vegetables. A meal fit for a young lord, exactly what this body demanded after a grueling workout. I didn't wait long before digging in. The food was delicious, a testament to Roselyn's skill, which she'd honed over years of caring for the Ravenshade family.
"It's quite good, Roselyn. You really are good at everything you do."
"Well, I need to be. After all, I am your personal maid, Young Master." Her voice was soft, but there was a quiet pride in it.
I smirked, tilting my head. "Either way… aren't you going to join me for breakfast?"
She stiffened slightly, then shook her head. "No, Young Master. How could I? As a maid, it's my duty to serve my master first. Only after that can I think of myself." Her words were a carefully recited rule of conduct, a mantra she had lived by her whole life.
"Hmm, that's how you're putting it now, huh?" I leaned back with a sly grin. "But I remember quite well—when you first came here, just a little girl, the Baron's daughter—you would sit behind me, stealing glances at my plate, waiting for me to finish so you could eat the leftovers."
"Y-Young Master!" she cut me off quickly, her cheeks flaming a deep pink. The memory was clearly a source of deep embarrassment for her. "Would you… like some tea?"
I chuckled under my breath. "So that's how it is, dodging with tea. Hah, why not. Though…" I tapped the table with my fork, "…coffee would've been a much better option."
Her hands, clasped tightly before her, betrayed the smallest squeeze—barely noticeable unless one was watching. The gesture spoke volumes about her conflicting emotions: her deep respect for me, her embarrassment, and her quiet, unshakeable devotion. She was a simple, uncomplicated soul in a world of complex lies.
After our little breakfast, I simply left for the academy. The distance from my dorm to the main grounds wasn't much—just a short walk. The path was more crowded today, though. Students moved in clusters, chattering, dragging luggage, or just rushing along.
Looked like most had returned after the short break. The air was thick with the energy of reunions and renewed rivalries, a feeling of new beginnings and old habits.
I walked at my own pace toward Phoenix Nest, my classroom. Along the way, plenty of students offered respectful greetings. I gave them a polite nod in return, nothing more. Mixed in with those were a few casual greetings from people who knew me a bit better.
"Hey, Evan! Where are you going without me, huh?"
Ryan's voice cut through the crowd, a familiar, welcome sound. I spotted him weaving his way toward me, waving as if I'd actually been looking for him.
I smirked. "Oh? Ryan, aren't you going to greet me properly like everyone else here?"
He rolled his eyes dramatically. "Yes, yes, why not? I greet the very self-esteem of a bastard young lord—Evan Ravenshade."
I laughed under my breath. "Well, well… and I greet the bitch known as Ryan Sterling."
That earned a few side-glances from passing students—some muffled laughs, others whispering. But Ryan just grinned, falling into step beside me.
"So, man, I see quite a crowd of students here, huh?" Ryan glanced around as we walked.
"Yeah. Probably because a lot of them didn't return yesterday. Most are coming back today… maybe a few stragglers tomorrow."
"Hmm, guess so." He smirked, side-eyeing me. "So, Mister Evan, is your dear fiancée going to grace us with her presence today or not?"
I gave a light shrug. "I suppose so. But that presence is probably reserved for me."
Ryan clicked his tongue. "Yeah, yeah, go on and forget us. Someone gets a girl and suddenly he's got no time for his brothers."
I shot him a sideways smirk. "If you're that envious, go get yourself a fiancée. Simple solution. Anyway, where are the others?"
"Maybe they'll be around here somewhere—oh, speak of the devils, huh?" Ryan said.
I followed his gaze and saw three familiar figures heading our way, those same plastered, bootlicking smiles on their faces.
"Hello, Lord Evan. And you too, Ryan. Heading to class without us?" Aron spoke first, while the other two echoed their greetings like a chorus.
I smirked. "Well, we were just waiting on you. Took your sweet time, didn't you? So, where've you three been hiding?"
Aron chuckled, raising his brows like he'd just stumbled upon a grand secret. "Hah, not hiding. Just… looking around, to be exact. You know how it is—lots of students only just returned today. And especially the elven princess—after such a long absence, how could we miss the chance to see her?"
His words earned a knowing nod from the other two, all three of them wearing the same goofy, eager smiles.
I glanced at them, lips quirking. "So that's where you've been. Skipping out on me just to drool over a princess? What loyal friends I have."
Ryan laughed, clapping Aron on the shoulder. "Can't blame us, Evan. She's practically the academy's crown jewel—half the idiots here are dying to catch her attention."
I scoffed, adjusting my pace as we continued toward the classroom. "Tch. Crown jewel or not, she's still just another student. No need to lose your dignity gawking like lovesick puppies."
They all groaned in unison, but I caught the way their grins only widened. Aron muttered, "Easy for you to say, young lord. Some of us don't have fiancées waiting on us."
"A good reason, I guess," I said, smirking as I let them sulk, my tone casual but laced with amusement.
So, the elven princess had finally arrived. Straight from the Elven Lands, with her little entourage in tow, like a glittering parade marching into the middle of human territory. Officially, she was here to "strengthen the treaty between our races." Unofficially… well, who knows? Maybe it was just politics dressed in pretty words.
Naturally, she didn't come alone. A handful of her kin had also enrolled here, though anyone with working eyes could tell what they really were—guards dressed up as fellow students. Their job wasn't to sit through lectures or memorize dusty spell theory; their job was her. Keep her safe, keep her untouchable.
And of course, as fate or whatever twisted author of this world would have it, she just had to be one of the heroines.
Because what kind of fantasy would this be without an elven chick, radiant and untouchable, walking the halls? The type that makes half the academy trip over their boots just to get a glimpse, while the other half dream about alliances and glory.
Me? I couldn't care less. Heroine or not, elf or not, she's just another piece in the game. And I've already got enough pieces on the board staring me down.
Aron leaned closer. "So, Lord Evan, what's the plan for today?"
I gave a small shrug. "Nothing more than classes. Unlike you three, I don't plan on skipping."
Aron raised his hands in protest. "We don't skip all the time, Lord Evan."
"Mm, yeah, totally know that," I said, the smirk on my face making it clear I didn't buy it for a second. "Anyway, as you already know, my promise still holds—I won't be joining in on your little fun game. If that's what you came fishing for."
Aron's shoulders slumped. "Well… if you say so. Can't be helped, then."
"Not exactly."
They all blinked at me.
"I promised I wouldn't bully Lucas," I continued, voice casual, almost lazy. Then I let the pause stretch, savoring the anticipation. "But I never promised I wouldn't bully others. And…" My lips curled into a grin. "…I never took responsibility for what happens if someone else decides to make his life miserable."
Silence. Then a faint, nervous laugh from Aron. William just swallowed, his eyes darting away.
I leaned back a little, satisfied. "See? Promise kept. Loopholes are a beautiful things ain't they."
----
As our talk carried on, we eventually reached the classroom.
As we entered the classroom, it was already packed, every seat filled with nobles eager to settle in before lessons.
We slipped to our usual places, Ryan and I side by side, while the other three naturally broke off to theirs.
Polite greetings carried across the room—bows, curtsies, and polite smiles exchanged as Lady Catherine basked in her usual compliments.
"Lady Catherine, you look gracious as always."
"Oh, I've been fine. And you?"
The conversation was all smiles and silk, but Ryan and I only watched from our seats, detached spectators to the dance of nobility. His eyes flicked toward a commotion near the doorway.
"So," Ryan murmured, tilting his chin ever so slightly. "The Lady of Wynterbourne decided to make her appearance, huh?"
I followed his gaze, and there she was—walking in with the kind of presence that turned idle whispers into pointed stares.
"She looks great, doesn't she, Evan?" Ryan asked with a grin.
I leaned back, lips quirking. "Yeah. She draws every eye the moment she steps in. What else can I say?"
Ryan chuckled under his breath. "Shame though, isn't it? Every beautiful girl seems to be spread out across other classes. Wouldn't it be nice if they were all in ours instead?"
I smirked, shaking my head. "Balance, Ryan. One jewel per room—that's the way it goes. A crown piece for each class to admire."
My gaze lingered a moment longer on Lady Wynterbourne, her elegance stealing the spotlight without even trying. Though some jewels shine sharp enough to cut. Best to watch how close one reaches.
As Catherine basked in her little circle of greetings, I leaned back in my chair and watched the show. Every nod, every polite smile—it was all a performance, and she played it like a seasoned actress.
Ryan's words echoed. One jewel per class. True enough. The academy had divided us like fine wine in crystal glasses, too delicate to be poured all in one jug.
Dragon Roost, Griffith Aerie , Anzu's Sky, Wyner's Perch, and ours—Phoenix Nest.
I snorted under my breath. A series of names meant to sound lofty, grand, mythical. To me, though? They were… well, cringe. Like someone had gotten drunk on fairy tales and decided to brand us accordingly.
Still, I supposed the division served its purpose. Keep the cattle penned neatly and call it order.
And, by the way, Lucas was in Griffins Aerie. Naturally. So was my dear fiancée, Emilia. And the ever-graceful elven princess.
Convenient, isn't it? The so-called Hero. Heroine. Side heroine. All carefully packaged together, like actors placed on a stage. So they can have their sweet little moments, their fated encounters, their charming misunderstandings. A perfect script, prearranged by the academy itself.
Meanwhile, I'm over here in Phoenix Nest. Off the main stage. Playing A supporting role, of a side character. Supposedly.
Well, before I could sink deeper into my thoughts, the door creaked open.
"Attention, everyone. To your seats."
The voice rang clear—sweet, but with that underlying firmness that made people obey without hesitation.
Conversations died, chairs scraped, and in seconds the classroom was quiet.
She walked in, the instructor assigned to us for combat class. Miss Natasha.
Delicate in frame, graceful in step, yet carrying herself with the sort of authority that made even rowdy nobles straighten their backs. If one wasn't careful, it'd be far too easy to get lost in the softness of her bloom-like presence and forget the steel hiding underneath.
"So," she began, her eyes sweeping across us like a gentle but unyielding current, "as I now have everyone's attention, I'd like to begin today's class."
Her lips curved—not into a smile, but into something that promised she knew exactly what she was about to stir.
"Today's lesson will be about weapon training. And what more effective way to teach you all…" Her gaze sharpened, lingering just long enough to make the air grow taut. "…than with a little match between students?"
-----
Author's Note:
We're close to a milestone! Add this novel to your library if you haven't yet—once we hit 100 collections, I'll drop a mass release to celebrate. Let's smash that number together!