Rumors always travel fast.
By that evening, before the sun had even fully set, every corner of the Royal Knight and Magic Academy had already been conquered by the exact same piece of news.
The cafeteria, the dormitories, the training grounds—led by the first-year freshmen, everyone was discussing the same topic.
(A segment of gossip description)
In the cafeteria, the students sitting at the long tables didn't even notice that the stew on their plates had gone cold. They huddled together, whispering and exchanging their own “exclusive versions” of the story.
Version A, from Witness A, an onlooker:
“!”
Version B, from Witness B, an onlooker who arrived thirty seconds later than Witness A:
“!”
Version C, from Witness C, an onlooker standing further down the corridor with a bird's-eye view of the entire scene:
“.”
Everyone was talking at once.
“Speaking of which, Waldenburg? The genius of the Swordsmanship Department?”
“Yeah, he was just watching from the side! His hand was on his hilt the entire time, but he didn't dare draw it—well, makes sense. The opponent was the lady of the Aldheim family, after all. Who would dare draw a sword against her?”
“So Waldenburg and that commoner are...?”
“Oooooh, things aren't simple between them either!”
“It looked like they were talking. Maybe they're on good terms. Now I see what happened. Lady Loris obviously rushed over on purpose because she couldn't stand seeing other people happy.”
“How terrifying...”
(A very emotional gossip description)
At a table in the corner of the cafeteria, a few second-year upperclassmen held their coffee cups.
They conversed in a tone that said, “We've seen it all.”
“The first-years are having so much drama already. Tsk, tsk.”
“Why does it feel like the rumors are getting wilder and wilder? This year's freshmen are truly terrifying.”
(Another description of a version)
“Wow~ pretty wild.”
On the other side, several boys from the Swordsmanship Department leaned against the window, discussing it from a slightly different angle.
And the version on this side was even more mind-blowing.
“You guys are saying Waldenburg was right there at the time?”
“I reckon it's that commoner... but what you said is also possible!”
“She really has no respect for the Crown Prince.”
“By the way, weren't there rumors before that Miss Aldheim couldn't stand a commoner being on the same level as her, so she was constantly pushing her around in secret? Waldenburg probably has feelings for that commoner, so she jumped in to stop them. I mean, it couldn't actually be that kind of relationship, right?”
“...True.”
In short, within just a few hours, the original story had already been gossiped beyond recognition.
(A comprehensive description of various versions)
Opinions varied wildly.
...
Of course, at this moment, I was still completely oblivious to all of this.
Because I had locked myself in my dorm room, face buried in my pillow like an ostrich sticking its head in the sand.
“I'm dead,” my voice came out muffled and slurred from the pillow. “I'm already dead. Right now, I'm a ghost. Ghosts don't have to face tomorrow.”
Misha sat on her bed, clutching a cup of herbal tea that had already gone completely cold, her expression a complex mix of confusion and bewilderment.
She hadn't heard my muttering since my voice was so low; she was just lost in her own thoughts.
“Lady Loris...”
Misha opened her mouth as if to say something, but swallowed it back down.
The scene from this afternoon replayed in her mind over and over again.
She was supposed to be happy for Lady Loris, but why...
Just then, there was a knock on the dormitory door.
Knock, knock, knock.
Misha snapped out of her daze and slowly walked over to open the door. Standing outside was an upperclassman in a student council uniform, holding a dark brown envelope.
“Miss Loris von Aldheim?” The upperclassman poked her head in.
Hearing the noise, I lifted my face from the pillow. I wanted to sink into the ground out of sheer embarrassment, but for the sake of my persona, I still put on a completely unfazed expression.
“I am.”
“The president asked me to deliver this.” The upperclassman handed over the envelope. “Tomorrow at five in the afternoon, at the student council office. Please be on time.”
I took the envelope. It was stamped with the student council crest—a shield and crossed swords, topped by a small crown. The seal was made of wax, stamped with the calligraphic letters “S.C.”
The upperclassman bowed and turned to leave.
Once the door closed, I tossed it onto the nightstand, simply in no mood to care about such matters.
Tomorrow's problems are for tomorrow, I buried my face back into the pillow, sighing miserably in my heart. Today's Loris is already dead. Tomorrow's Loris is tomorrow's Loris.
Let me think about what to do tomorrow.
...
The scene shifted.
The student council office at dusk.
The setting sun streamed diagonally through the high windows, cutting a golden-red beam of light across the long table.
Leonhart sat in the president's seat, a club activity approval form for next week spread out before him. His quill rested beside the inkwell, the ink on its tip already dry.
He had been staring at the form in the exact same posture for several minutes, his gaze resting on the paper, looking slightly puzzled.
Because when his secretary had come in earlier to serve tea, they had casually mentioned a very interesting rumor.
“President, have you heard? The incident that happened this afternoon at the entrance of the Magic Department's academic building.” The secretary set down the tea set and lowered their voice. “The matter regarding the lady of the Aldheim family.”
Leonhart paused in the middle of lifting his teacup.
“What about it?”
As if afraid he wouldn't believe it, the secretary added, “(A fairly detailed account of the sequence of events). That's how it went. Many people saw it. Waldenburg from the Swordsmanship Department was also present at the time, standing just two paces away. Supposedly, he was one of the key parties involved.”
Leonhart didn't speak immediately. He raised his teacup and took a sip, suddenly noticing that the black tea had gone cold, carrying a hint of bitterness.
“I see,” he said.
Seeing that he had no intention of asking further, the secretary tactfully withdrew, the door softly closing behind them.
In truth, the secretary hadn't intentionally mentioned those absurd versions of the rumor; otherwise, Leonhart's feelings would have been a complicated mess, perhaps even making him subconsciously touch his head to check for any imaginary green.
Fortunately, the secretary's report was very professional, presenting it strictly as a matter-of-fact incident.
Only he remained in the student council office.
Leonhart placed his teacup back onto the saucer, the porcelain making a soft clinking sound.
He leaned back against his chair, his golden hair reflecting a soft glow in the evening sun. His deep eyes gazed out the window, looking through the glass at the distant bell tower.
Loris von Aldheim.
He silently repeated the name in his mind, as if taking stock of the chess pieces he held on the board known as the kingdom.
Ever since their first meeting when their engagement was settled, she had already understood her own destiny and done her best to show her goodwill.
During their dance that day, her steps had been flawless, her posture exceedingly elegant.
At the time, Leonhart had held her hand, showing as much attentiveness as possible. In reality, once that dance ended, he had to dance a second one with the daughter of Count Norman, and then greet several ministers introduced by his father.
He had no feelings for her.
Not since the very first day.
But that wasn't the point. The point was that the eldest daughter of the Aldheim family—the heir to the most powerful ducal house in the kingdom, the woman bound to him by the same engagement since she was nine years old—he knew what kind of person she was better than most.
Leonhart pulled a parchment document from his drawer. It was the report card from last week's weekly Magic Department test.
Loris's name was at the very top, tied with Liliana's. Pressed next to the report card was last year's conduct assessment report for noble children, which was regularly compiled by the academy's academic affairs office for the student council's reference.
He opened the report, his gaze falling on the entry for “Loris von Aldheim.”
It was densely packed with incidents related to her over the past two years.
—After enrollment, dormitory supervisor's record:
On the first day of school, Miss Vera Klein, who resided in room 207 on the same floor as Miss Aldheim, applied for a room transfer. The reason was not made public, but that evening, witnesses claimed to have seen Miss Klein with a red and swollen cheek.
Afterward, Miss Klein refused to discuss the matter, stating only that there was no conflict between her and Miss Loris.
—The following day, after the mana test, Miss Aldheim made derogatory remarks in public about her classmate Liliana, using phrasing such as “A commoner actually managed to get the same grade as me.”
The incident was witnessed by multiple students and has been recorded.
—On the same day, in the corridor of the dormitory building, Miss Aldheim clashed with Margaret, the second daughter of Count Horn. The former slapped the latter, citing the reason that the latter had “bullied her person.” The incident ended with Margaret apologizing.
Though the negative evaluations rushed in like a tide after only a single week of school, Leonhart remained expressionless because he knew she was precisely that kind of person.
“Sigh... Still like this at twelve years old?”
He sighed.
In fact, even earlier, long before their engagement was settled, Leonhart had already known about her.
The maids who worked at her estate would often complain, and after they resigned, word would spread slightly.
For instance, one winter, a newly hired maid served the wrong juice for breakfast—bringing apple juice instead of orange juice. She was publicly berated by the young lady and forced to kneel outside the kitchen door for an hour.
Afterward, the maid submitted her resignation, but the butler retained her using the breach of contract fee as an excuse, ultimately transferring her to the stables. In truth, it was simply because they hadn't finished tormenting her.
Or another time, a maid responsible for dressing her applied too much force while tightening her corset, and she threw a comb at the back of the maid's hand.
And four years ago, when he went to the Aldheim territory to attend the banquet where their engagement was finalized, he had passed a half-open door in a corridor before the banquet began. He heard shrill scolding and the sound of something shattering from inside.
Following that was the crying of a little boy, very faint and muffled, as if he were afraid of being heard.
He did not stop his steps.
Because that was none of his business.
He knew that the young lady of the Aldheim family disciplined her maids and her younger brother, but those were her family affairs. He was the Crown Prince, not a moral judge, let alone a babysitter.
But at that moment, he clearly realized one thing—Loris von Aldheim was not an easy person to get along with.
She was short-tempered, irritable, controlling, harsh toward servants, strict with her brother, and possessed a borderline obsessive possessiveness over things she deemed hers.
He knew all about these deeds.
However, his destiny was bound to the kingdom, and personal sacrifices were insignificant—or so he believed. It was merely a matter of marital happiness. Although he had imagined a gentle and elegant fiancée, he only thought about it briefly before accepting his fate.
In any case, Leonhart closed the report and put it back into the drawer.
As for today's matter...
Leonhart's fingers tapped lightly on the desk twice.
Based on his understanding of Loris, there was nothing complicated about this—it was simply her finding new ways to bully that commoner named Liliana.
Previously, it had been verbal degradation; this time, she had merely switched to a more outrageous, unexpected method.
It was highly likely just a whim born of her wicked sense of humor, intended to humiliate the girl or put on a good show for the onlookers.
It was absurd.
But coming from Loris, it was entirely unsurprising.
At this thought, Leonhart's gaze naturally drifted back to the report card on his desk. Liliana's name was right next to Loris's, also in first place.
A commoner with no family resources and no private tutors, yet able to achieve the exact same grades as the eldest daughter of a Duke.
Furthermore, she possessed Level Ten potential. That in itself spoke volumes.
He had already noticed Liliana before. Her grades were outstanding, her performance in the mana test was excellent, and the adaptability and reasoning she displayed in several classes showed she wasn't someone who just studied by rote.
More importantly, she lacked the typical shrinking timidity and sycophancy found in commoner students, nor did she deliberately try to curry favor with the noble circles—this dignified, balanced attitude was rare in the Royal Academy.
She had potential.
And it was the kind of potential that could be nurtured and won over.
The Crown Prince did not lack noble supporters; what he lacked was precisely someone who rose from the bottom with genuine ability.
A commoner with no background who stood at the forefront purely by strength would be far more loyal if brought into his service than those double-dealing noble children.
As for Loris bullying her...
Leonhart pondered for a moment.
Of course, he wouldn't interfere with how Loris tormented people. However, if Liliana were bullied too severely, to the point where it affected her studies or mental state, that would be a pity. After all, it would be a waste if such a talent were ruined merely by the whims of the Duke's daughter.
Still, he wouldn't directly step in to do anything.
Doing so would be too deliberate and draw unwanted attention.
Leonhart picked up tomorrow's schedule from the desk. He thought about it. After the morning meeting, the student council had a freshman interview session. Naturally, his meeting with Loris would be private, as their relationship required special treatment—and the invitation had been handwritten by him personally, so it should have already reached Loris's dormitory.
The eldest daughter of a Duke being invited to join the student council had no reason to refuse, nor would she.
During their chat, he could casually bring up the gossip from this afternoon.
He would lightly drop a line—“There have been quite a few rumors about you in the academy lately; mind the impact.” This way, he would fulfill his duty without making Loris feel like he was taking sides.
As for Liliana, there was no rush to make contact.
He would observe her for a while first to see how she performed in upcoming tests and activities. If she indeed proved worthy of nurturing, he would find a natural opportunity later—such as an academy competition—to bring her deeper into his circle of interests.
Having reached this decision, Leonhart set down the schedule, picked up his quill again, dipped it in ink, and signed his name at the bottom of the sailing club's activity approval form.
The setting sun outside sank a bit further, and the long toll of the bell echoed through the twilight, startling a flock of gray pigeons roosting beneath the eaves.
As he finished writing the last letter, he let out a soft, weary sigh and set the pen back beside the inkwell.
The rest could wait until tomorrow.
Rate on N.U.
