Chapter 22
Peep! The moment its wound healed, the bird shot from her palm into the sky without a backward glance.
Watching it soar, Roseline remembered Valen—or rather, the day they’d met. She’d been healing an injured creature in the grass then, too.
It was her first year at the Academy.
Desperate for scholarships, she attended every event—even the palace banquet where lowly trainees like her were mere props, paraded in uniform to flaunt the institution’s prestige.
That night, she’d tasted wine for the first time. The sweet vintage went to her head quickly, and she’d slipped into the gardens to cool off when she spotted a wounded frog.
It seemed gravely injured, motionless even as she approached. Of course—because what her drunken eyes mistook for a frog was just a flat, unremarkable stone.
Of course, Roseline didn’t realize this.
“I’ll heal you, no matter what!” she declared, pouring her magic into the “injured” stone. But her drunken state twisted her mana output, summoning an entirely different affinity—the transformation magic she’d been secretly practicing to evade prying eyes. The stone morphed into a chicken, then a fish, enduring humiliation before finally reverting to its original form.
‘Huh? Why’s it doing that?’
Her reckless use of off-affinity magic drained her reserves. As she tried to stand, the world tilted—
“Careful.”
A large hand steadied her waist. The man had hair dark as midnight and features sharp enough to cut through her drunken haze.
“A healer, I see.”
Noticing her brooch, he smiled silently. Had she been sober, his hair alone would’ve revealed his noble status—but alas, Roseline was far past such deductions.
“Isn’t this against school rules? You’re having quite the fun time.”
“…Rules?”
“Yes, rules. Trespassing included.”
“…Trespassing? Will I get arrested? No good…”
“Why’s that?”
“Ugh, my head hurts. Can you be quiet? I’ve got a headache.”
The man’s perfectly shaped eyebrows shot up. Watching her groan, his smile deepened. His attendant stepped forward.
“Shall I take over?”
“Shh. She’s got a headache, remember?”
Amusement laced his low voice. The attendant retreated, while Roseline pried the arm from her waist with clumsy determination. She then tried to heal her throbbing skull—only to pass out from mana depletion.
The next day, she learned two things.
One. The “meadow” she’d stumbled into was the royal family’s private garden.
Two. The man who’d carried her unconscious body was the Grand Duke.
That was also the day she discovered true mortification—the kind that makes you wish for death.
“Did you see Lady Celodienne’s face?”
“Can you blame her? I truly thought she’d get into the Bureau. I even wanted her to.”
Familiar voices drifted from beyond the bushes. Roseline, still sitting in the grass, turned her head slightly.
“You wanted me to?”
“Well, she’d have been better than Schnitzel. At least House Celodienne doesn’t flaunt their influence like some highborn families.”
It was Lady Malsen’s old clique—the same ones who’d recently pretended to befriend Roseline, offering hollow condolences earlier. The memory of their saccharine “congratulations” to Schnitzel made her snort.
Should I jump out and scare them? Or wait until they leave to avoid the hassle?
“Actually, I already knew the outcome.”
“How?”
“I have… insider information. My uncle works at the Bureau, you see.”
Roseline held her breath, ears straining to catch every word from beyond the bushes.
Thud, thud. The thrill of eavesdropping made her pulse roar, fingertips turning icy. Just spit it out already. But the girl hesitated, and another pressed her: “Go on, tell us!”
“You must swear to keep this to yourselves. They say… the decision was prearranged.”
“Prearranged? So House Schnitzel pulled strings?”
“No. It was His Grace.”
“What? You mean the Grand Duke supported Lady Schnitzel?”
“Oh, don’t be absurd. Not that. Apparently… he pressured them to reject Lady Celodienne.”
Thump. Thump. THUMP
Her heart, already pounding wildly, plummeted into an abyss.
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