Chapter 33
“Thank you for explaining. I’ve only been making guesses—I don’t actually know the specifics of how things work.”
“A directive was issued to refrain from recruiting Manifestors capable of using magic outside their lineage. If my understanding is correct, the only Manifestor at the Academy who meets that condition is you, my lady.”
“……”
“……”
Silence fell in the modest parlor as the two sitting across from each other closed their mouths. Lady Schnitzel crossed her arms over her chest and stared at Roseline.
“What are you thinking?”
“I’m screwed.”
“Huh?”
“—is what I was thinking.”
Truthfully, she thought Valen had gone mad, but that wasn’t something to say out loud. Suddenly, her last memory of Valen resurfaced—his expression when he had asked, “Classified?” after she relayed the overheard secret conversation, or the unease she had sensed from him. If the conversation had truly been classified, the implication was that it shouldn’t have reached her ears in the first place.
This absurd directive was likely no different. Since it had reached her ears, it couldn’t possibly be confidential. Perhaps it had been left for her to hear on purpose.
“My lady, do you have any leverage?”
“No?”
“Then, are you rich?”
“No.”
“Then why are you just sighing? Aren’t you going to come up with a plan? What would you have done if I hadn’t come? Really.”
The lady leaned deeper into the sofa, still with her arms crossed. Her voice was curt, but the slightly raised chin and the deliberately tensed corners of her lips made it seem as if she was oddly enjoying this situation. As if she had something to say—as if she was waiting for Roseline to ask.
“Do you happen to have an alternative, my lady?”
So she asked, though she couldn’t help but burst into laughter. It was ridiculous to ask the lady about her own affairs, and the sheer absurdity of sharing such a conversation with her in the first place was simply comical. The lady’s eyes sharpened at the sudden laughter. Roseline quickly covered her mouth in apology, and the lady’s cheeks twitched before she spoke.
“Though I’m not particularly worried about you, my lady, I tend to overthink things, so I’ve prepared a few plans. So, unless you intend to return to your territory, make sure—absolutely sure—to attend the banquet. Understood?”
◇◇◇
That day was the beginning. Lady Schnitzel began dropping by Roseline’s room whenever she pleased. She always knocked on the door with a sullen expression, though her reasons varied each time. One day, she brought a mountain of desserts, complaining that they were leftovers and too troublesome to deal with; another day, she dragged along her own maid, grumbling that there were too many maids and it was driving her mad. Roseline accepted the desserts but refused the maid. And then she asked.
“Why are you so kind to me?”
“Delusions are an illness too. I’m not being kind—I’m repaying a debt. I’ve been uncomfortable, thinking I stole your place.”
It seemed the matter of the Magic Bureau’s recruitment still weighed on her. Rumor had it she had refused the Bureau’s offer to assist her family instead—why that decision lingered in her mind, no one could say. Meanwhile, the very person who had driven things to this point showed not a shred of remorse, tightening the screws on her future from every direction.
“If you’re referring to the Magic Bureau, don’t dwell on it. It was never my place to begin with, and that day, your boldness was truly admirable.”
“Hmph. No amount of sweet talk will make you my friend. Understood?”
“Yes.”
“Unbelievable. I’m speechless, really.”
The lady flicked open her fan and waved it incessantly. Just as Lady Schnitzel had tallied her own debts, Roseline, too, had kept a ledger of affection toward the lady.
While spending time with her, Roseline also began venturing out more frequently. With only a few days left before she had to vacate the dormitory, she rented a small house on the outskirts of the capital. It drained the last of her savings, leaving her penniless, but with at least one crisis resolved, her mind was at ease.
Then, a few days later, the graduation ceremony finally arrived.
The Academy’s enrollment and graduation ceremonies were major imperial events. With Manifestors being rare, admissions and graduations occurred only once every three years—as one class departed, the next filled the vacancies.
The celebratory banquet was held in the imperial palace, a long-standing tradition where the Emperor himself would attend and bless the Manifestors’ futures.
This year’s banquet, in particular, had drawn an unusually expectant crowd. Some were speculating whether the Grand Duke would appear, while others whispered theories about the reason for their breakup. In high society, the juiciest gossip was always about romance—and even juicier was its demise. No small number of eyes flickered toward Roseline.
“Is that pink-haired lady the one who was involved with His Highness the Grand Duke?”
“Yes. A peerless beauty, isn’t she?”
“No wonder His Highness fell for her. I’d be smitten too.”
“Well, what’s the use? It’s over between them.”
“I wonder why they parted ways?”
“They say beauty lasts three years, but a virtuous heart lasts a lifetime. Sadly, old sayings are never wrong.”
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