At the central wing of the library, Cecilia was reading alone at a table near the window.
The quiet rustle of pages and the soft whispers of students passing by filled the space around her.
"Look, it is Cecilia," one student whispered to another.
"Yes, you are right. She is so elegant. I heard she comes here every day to study. She never misses a single afternoon."
Cecilia noticed the small group of students staring at her from across the aisle. They were likely first years who had heard stories about her from the upperclassmen.
She smiled warmly at them and gave a small wave.
The students blushed and hurried away, giggling among themselves.
"Did you see that? She smiled at me. I feel like everything is going to be okay now."
"Right? She is so pretty and kind. I want to be just like her when I grow up."
Cecilia turned back to her book. She flipped a page, then another, then another. Her eyes moved across the words, but none of them registered. She could not concentrate at all. She stretched her arms above her head and stared out the window at the students walking across the courtyard below.
What was her purpose in this academy? Who was the real Cecilia Finnegan? Who was the person hiding behind the face that everyone loved?
She had been the perfect lady for her entire life.
As the youngest daughter of Count Finnegan, she had learned from a young age that humility was the greatest virtue a woman could possess. Being feminine, being graceful, being intelligent, those were the traits that people praised. Those were the traits that made her valuable.
So she wore a mask. She showed them the kind version of herself, the gentle version, the version that smiled at first years in the library and made them feel safe. Everyone praised her.
Everyone felt reassured by her presence. She was the Pure Flower of Finnegan, her father called her. Her mother compared her to her older siblings and always found her superior. The maids whispered about how she was the best of the count's children, the one who would make the family proud.
She felt good being praised. She felt good being compared to others and found better.
It meant she stood above everyone else, that she was special, that she was loved for being exactly what they wanted her to be.
But there was a secret that no one knew about her. A deep secret that she had never told anyone, not even her family.
She enjoyed fighting. Not the elegant sparring that ladies were allowed to watch from the sidelines. Not the controlled matches where both opponents bowed and shook hands afterward.
She enjoyed brutal fighting. The kind where blood sprayed across the ground.
The kind where bones cracked and opponents screamed. She got excited when she stepped onto the training ground, and sometimes that excitement scared her.
She had a bad personality underneath the mask. A sharp tongue. A cruel streak. A hunger for watching her opponents fall. That was why she had vowed never to reveal her true self, not even to Penelope, her closest friend in the world.
The mask stayed on, and the real Cecilia stayed hidden where no one could see her.
Until one boy at the academy had seen through her completely.
It had happened during a sparring match that had turned serious. She had pushed too hard, gone too far, let her excitement take control. Her opponent had been someone strong, someone who could match her, and she had lost herself in the thrill of the fight.
When the match ended, Edwin Perrin had looked at her with knowing eyes. He did not say much. He did not judge her or turn away from her.
He simply looked at her and said, "You fight like someone who has been waiting for permission to be yourself."
He saw through the mask.
He knew who she was underneath, and he did not flinch.
For the first time in her life, Cecilia felt something she had never allowed herself to feel before. Happiness.
Real happiness, not the practiced smile she gave to first years in the library, not the gentle nod she offered to her mother when she was praised. Something deep and warm that spread through her chest and made her want to laugh out loud.
She closed her book and set it on the table.
The memory of that day still made her heart beat faster.
Cecilia quickly sighed and hid the cover of the book beneath her hands. She did not want anyone to know that she was interested in military history and warfare.
The moment she tried to flip it over and cover the title, a voice spoke from behind her.
"That book you are reading. It is quite an intriguing choice."
She turned to see who was standing behind her, and her heart sank. It was Edsel, staring directly at the cover of her book. His arm reached out and pushed her hand aside so that he could read the title clearly.
"You also enjoy the War of Philian the Third?" he asked while tilting his head.
What was Edsel doing here? she thought to herself. He was the last person that she wanted to see right now. He was the sole reason why Edwin had been angry with her, why Edwin had said those terrible words that still echoed in her head.
"It is not that I particularly enjoy it," she said while trying to compose herself. "I simply happened to see this book on the shelf, and I thought I would—"
"Oh, you simply happened to see it?"
Edsel interrupted while glancing at the stack of books beside her.
"You simply happened to see this one, and you also happened to have three other books about warfare stacked right next to it? What a remarkable coincidence."
Cecilia's face flushed red. She reached out and shielded the stack with her arm. "Just forget about those. Is it truly so terrible for a woman to have an interest in war?"
Edsel released the cover of her book and rubbed his jaw thoughtfully.
"It is not terrible at all. Women go to war all the time in this world. But of course, most men would consider those women to be brutes. Unladylike. Unfeminine."
She flinched at his words. Was he calling her a brute? Was he mocking her?
Edsel raised his hands as if to calm her.
"Of course, I am in no position to judge anyone. Especially not people who hide their true selves from the world."
Her hands began to tremble. Did Edsel know? Had he seen through her mask just like Edwin had? No, that was impossible. Edsel was the type of person who never paid attention to anyone. He had never looked at her twice before, so why would he start now?
"I mean me," Edsel said while pointing at his own chest. He smiled, and the expression was so casual that Cecilia found herself smiling awkwardly in return.
"Ah, I see. You meant yourself," she said while letting out a breath she did not know she had been holding.
She sat back down and looked at the books scattered across the table. "If you will excuse me, I would love to continue my reading."
Edsel did not move. "How sad. I was actually quite interested in that book. What is it about exactly?"