The following morning—
the second day of the tenth month, officially declared a public holiday for the Emperor's birthday celebrations, which were expected to last nearly a week—the academy gates were crowded with lined carriages.
Horses pawed the ground restlessly, while servants moved between nobles busy preparing their children's return to their respective provinces, seeking leisure and renewal.
Even so, some students chose to remain in the capital, continuing to use the academy dormitories as usual.
The annual festival coincided with the celebration, alongside a banquet to which select aristocratic families had been invited in honor of the imperial household.
Amid the bustling crowd, a group of students stood out—those returning from a long journey, wearing heavy, dark cloaks marked by dust and tears.
Beside them stood a tall man in his mid-thirties, dressed in the academy's formal instructor uniform:
dark trousers and a long coat, meticulously embroidered in red along the cuffs, collar, and pockets.
A silver chain fastened to his left chest, secured by a star-shaped pin.
Despite the simplicity of the design, his presence was unmistakable.
The instructor was engaged in a quiet exchange with one of the students.
His sharp features were set in stern seriousness, giving him an intimidating air.
The other party's face remained hidden beneath a dark hood—until she lifted it herself, fiery red strands spilling down over her shoulders.
A striking young woman… with calm, observant eyes.
With a polite bow, she concluded the conversation and headed into the academy grounds with her companions.
"Finally, that hellish journey is over. We should enjoy this bliss while we can, don't you think, Alice?"
A short-haired black-haired girl spoke energetically as she walked beside the red-haired student.
Alice regarded her friend quietly before replying in a low voice
"Would you like to visit the festival tonight? We could invite the others too. It might be more fun that way."
Her companion's eyes lit up, a bright smile spreading across her face.
"I'm really glad you're coming with us! I thought you'd spend the day resting like usual after a trip, but this time feels different… Is it because of the festival?"
A faint smile touched Alice's lips.
"I need an outlet from studying and work sometimes too. That's not strange, is it?"
"You're right… it's not."
Yet as the words faded, Tina noticed a change in her friend's gaze.
A deep uncertainty surfaced in Alice's green eyes—only to fade moments later into a calm, distant coldness that unsettled her.
They were merely two students passing by within Alice's line of sight…
and yet, it felt as though she were looking far beyond them.
Alice broke the silence abruptly.
"Tina, go on ahead. We'll meet later at our usual place. I need to speak with someone I know for a bit."
She was smiling… but it wasn't her usual smile.
An uncomfortable weight settled in Tina's chest. She offered a brief nod.
"Alright… see you later."
On the opposite side of the square, near the reception building—where departing students streamed through and rose bushes lined both sides of the path—Athena stood quietly beside Gilbert, waiting for Alice to arrive.
Her expression was clearly unsettled.
Gilbert, though calm as ever, felt uneasy.
He knew that a simple gesture—a light pat on her head, just as he had done since their childhood—would bring her back to herself.
But she spoke first, her smile tinged with self-mockery.
"It seems that weak part of me hasn't changed after all… I'm sorry about that. And… thank you, Brother Gil."
His heartbeat faltered for a moment, but he replied steadily
"Facing what hurts you is bravery in itself. You're not as weak as you think."
Her eyes widened slightly, warmth seeping quietly into her chest.
That's why I care about him…
She couldn't say it aloud.
Instead, she offered a sincere smile and steeled herself.
She wouldn't trouble him further.
Closing her eyes, she exhaled slowly, then reshaped her expression into composure.
When she looked up, Alice was standing not far away. After her companion departed, the sisters exchanged a brief glance.
At Athena's subtle signal, Alice understood.
She followed them to the rear garden behind the library.
Alice leaned against a tree, arms crossed, while Athena stood directly before her.
All traces of Athena's earlier tension had vanished.
Perhaps because Gilbert was nearby as well—leaning quietly against another tree.
Alice finally spoke, her tone sharp and cold.
"I wasn't informed that you were coming. Care to explain that?"
"You should ask our mother… not me."
Alice fell silent, studying her sister's features.
So that woman is interfering again…
She scoffed softly.
"Then why are you here? Don't tell me your mother suddenly worried about my safety—that wouldn't suit her."
Athena nearly lost her composure—but then she froze.
She saw something unfamiliar.
Hesitation… in her sister's eyes.
And in that instant, she realized something that had never crossed her mind before.
Have I ever truly looked at my sister's face during all these years?
When did we become like this?
No… were we ever a normal family to begin with?
Alice had always stood beside their mother.
The rightful heir—naturally so.
And Athena… had always been the extra.
She had only wanted her sister to look at her once—just once—instead of at their mother.
But she eventually understood that Alice carried burdens of her own.
She had tried, clumsily, to understand her… to involve herself.
And all she gained was rejection and belittlement.
So what did she do after that?
She clung to the one person who treated her with genuine kindness.
She relied on him for everything.
And how did that end?
She became nothing of consequence.
No matter how she tried to change herself, had she ever truly been of use to anyone?
Even when she pretended to be strong, all that remained inside were distorted fractures—impossible to mend.
Hidden deep… yet still seeping through her ribs from time to time.
This sickening feeling… I hate it.
Those thoughts should have crushed her chest—
yet, strangely, they were losing their weight.
When her trembling fingers pressed against her chest, she understood.
When something is endured for too long, it inevitably becomes part of the subconscious.
And once you drown in it deeply enough, the meaning of the feeling itself fades.
The same was true for her.
There was never a bond to begin with—nothing to lose.
So why did her mind insist on tormenting her with these hollow thoughts?
Her fingers clenched against her palm—a small, telling motion that betrayed what she tried to bury.
A cold breeze passed through the trees, rustling the branches above, as though the garden itself were watching their silence.
Behind them, Gilbert remained quiet.
Waiting for what would be said…
—or what would never be said at all.