—Royal Capital. Royal Grammar Academy, First-Year Department—
Although the plan was decided yesterday, the Summer Ball is still several weeks away. Before that, I have to face an even harsher summer.
The royal capital's summer finally revealed its fierce true colors.
The April sun had already begun to show its intensity, pouring down from the cloudless sky and baking the entire Royal Knight and Magic Academy into a sizzling slab of stone.
Maple leaves hung limply, and even the sparrows were too lazy to chirp, collectively hiding in the shade for an afternoon nap. The stone pavement of the main road was scorching hot, and the heat wave rising from the ground could be felt even through shoe soles.
In the Magic Department Class A classroom, the windows were wide open, but what flowed in was not cool air, but even hotter currents.
I sat at my desk, bored, propping my chin with one hand, staring at the opening and closing mouth of Professor Elena on the podium, with only one thought in my mind—
It’s so hot.
But—
A villainous daughter must maintain a refined appearance, graceful posture, and just the right amount of arrogance at the corner of her lips, even in forty-degree heat.
As if this suffocating heat was nothing more than a gentle spring breeze to her.
“...Therefore, next week's Mana Control test will count towards your final grade, making up thirty percent.”
Professor Elena’s voice cut through the heat, pulling my thoughts out of the loop of “So hot, so hot, so hot,” “No, I must remain dignified,” “So hot, so hot, so hot.”
“The test will require you to compress your mana to its limit and maintain a stable, small mana sphere for thirty minutes. The grading criteria are stability and duration.”
“During this period, mana fluctuation will be monitored. Any fluctuation exceeding the allowed range will result in deductions.”
A rustling of notebooks echoed through the classroom, mixed with a few hushed sighs.
“Thirty minutes? My hand will cramp up...”
“It’s not just hand cramps, it's that our magic circuits will overload, right?”
“Last time I managed five minutes and felt dizzy...”
With midterm approaching, naturally there would be exams.
“Quiet,” Professor Elena said, her voice not loud, but enough to silence everyone. “This is precisely the purpose of the test—to assess your control under extreme conditions.”
“Mages are not people who only cast spells in their comfort zones.”
As if receiving instruction, I lowered my head and wrote down “Mana Control Test” in my notebook as a reminder for my upcoming schedule, then idly drew a sunbathing turtle next to it.
If Mana Control was a midterm exam, this difficulty was as natural as breathing to me.
After all, if I hadn’t learned precise control over the sea-like mana pool within me, I would have blown myself up seventeen or eighteen times by now.
The ancient magic described in those old texts was very volatile. Two years of training, draining and restoring my mana daily, had long since honed my magic circuits to be as sensitive as precision instruments.
“Liliana, help me tutor this afternoon...”
In the chattering classroom, a faint conversation came from the two students in front.
In the corner of my eye, Liliana sat side-by-side with her friend Fiona.
After all, as the semester progressed, the Academy carried out routine seat adjustments based on evaluations and instructors’ considerations—this was an unavoidable fixture of academy life.
Watching the two of them converse harmoniously in low tones from afar, my own mood was surprisingly calm and undisturbed.
However, Liliana keenly sensed something amiss.
Since that duel had settled, even though we worked together in the student council, we both tacitly avoided mentioning past events.
Yet, the boundary between us had long become blurred, sliding into an odd and indefinable quagmire.
If one had to find a caption for the current situation, it would probably be that clichéd phrase—written as rivals, read as close friends?
Then the class bell rang.
Professor Elena packed up her teaching materials and left the classroom. The classroom instantly erupted into a buzzing commotion—like the dull hum of collective relief in the sweltering summer.
With nothing else to do, I scanned the classroom.
As expected, the weather was stifling. Even a pragmatist like Clara had upgraded from “sleeping facedown” to “slumped in her chair like a puddle.”
Cotton slid from her head onto the desk, becoming a fluffy ball, whether dead or alive, was anyone's guess.
A few others enthusiastically discussed going to the beach for the holidays.
Fiona, Sarah, and Liliana had gone out of the classroom to the corridor to catch some breeze.
A few people came up to me, asking about the afternoon's schedule.
However, as my gaze swept over the third row, my peripheral vision caught a figure slumped over a desk.
Klaus Heller.
It’s been a while since he was mentioned, but in reality, we often saw each other as classmates.
The parvenu young master, eldest son of a mining Baron, whose blue Goddess’s Tear gemstone still glittered brightly on his chest in the muggy classroom. I wondered how he endured wearing that large stone against his chest.
His state wasn't quite right.
To be precise, his state hasn't been right all week.
Although he still played his usual important role in class, walking in with his head held high and loudly announcing, “Who wants to go out with me this weekend? I'll cover all expenses!” playing the part of the parvenu.
And attracting a crowd of hangers-on.
But this guy recently kept occasionally lifting his head, his gaze drifting towards me.
Then quickly darting back.
And then after a while, drifting again.
Repeating this.
I thought he was just a bit nervous and decided to ignore it, but early teens are when they're prone to adolescent delusions.
...
—Magic Department Class A. Break time—
Klaus Heller had been very troubled lately.
Extremely troubled.
So troubled that he didn't even feel like eating lunch—of course, he ended up eating, and two servings at that—but that wasn't the important part. What was important was that he felt he was in a very tricky emotional predicament.
It all started a month ago.
That day at the Mephisto Magic Materials Shop, Loris had split half the glowstone powder with him, and said the words that had kept him tossing and turning ever since—“When it comes to friends, it’s not about quantity, but quality.”
His first reaction at the time was: Is she implying something?
He then spent three whole days chewing over this sentence, arriving at a conclusion that made his heart pound—
She must be implying something.
Later, the gossip at the entrance of the Magic Department teaching building occurred, and Klaus, standing in the second-floor corridor, witnessed the scene with his own eyes.
Loris von Aldheim, the Aldheim family’s eldest daughter, Crown Prince Leonhart's fiancée—
Without hesitation, without a moment’s doubt, her movements were fluid and natural, as if she was born to do such a thing.
Klaus pinched his philtrum then, nearly fainting on the spot.
His first reaction was: I’m heartbroken.
His second reaction was: When did I fall in love?
His third reaction was: No, nothing ever happened between Loris and me, why am I using the word 'heartbroken'?
Finally, he had an epiphany: So I've secretly fallen for her? Dammit! No, my dignity makes this impossible to accept! A woman with such a despicable personality could never catch the eye of a Heller young master!
In short, Klaus’s mind was like a pot of boiling porridge, bubbling with unanswerable questions that left him both furious and embarrassed.
In the following days, he had no choice but to start observing Loris.
He didn't want to admit he was deliberate—alright, maybe a little deliberate—but he told himself it was to figure out what kind of person she truly was, and for no other reason.
Then he discovered some things.
Perhaps no one had ever dared to observe this villainous daughter like a gossip reporter collecting celebrity scandals before.
Klaus found out.
Loris would occasionally zone out during class, her expression gentle, then suddenly snap back and maintain her dignified composure.
When Loris ate stewed beef in the cafeteria, she would inexplicably frown, pick out the carrots and place them on the edge of her plate, and then, as if remembering something, reluctantly eat them.
When Loris encountered Liliana in the corridor, she would pass by without a glance, as if disdainful of interaction;
but after passing, she would subtly glance at Liliana's retreating figure from the corner of her eye.
When Loris was surrounded by girls fawning over her, although she was often elegant and arrogant, her expression would occasionally reveal a subtle helplessness, as if saying, “I really want to leave but can’t.”
All these signs seemed... very strange.
It gave Klaus an awkward feeling, because as the renowned eldest daughter of the Aldheim family at the Academy, aside from her problematic personality, she had always been an exemplary noble.
In simpler terms—her unpleasant personality was usually reserved for those beneath her; in formal social settings and public places, she was flawless.
Well, perhaps, except for that one piece of gossip.
In short, what Klaus wanted to say was, could Loris actually... be like her?
That... tough on the outside, weak on the inside?
Of course, this was just a slight guess, and Klaus thought the probability was very low.
He was mainly bothered by his previous vexation; the dignity of the Heller young master made him unwilling to admit that he would be so blind as to fancy such a wicked woman... his previous pangs were just because she had implicitly flirted with him.
Soon, it would be the Summer Ball, which Klaus would naturally attend, but attending meant seeing Loris, which was truly depressing.
A string of problems gave him a splitting headache.
Originally, he might have discussed such problems with his good buddy, Alden, who had been his friend since childhood.
Unfortunately, he hadn't been able to find him recently, for some reason.
Just then, he saw Alden (the first villainous male supporting character who planned to confess to Liliana) return from the classroom.
...
Time swiftly passed, bringing us to after school.
The evening glow spilled onto the fountain pool in the Royal Capital's central plaza, dyeing the water a shade of orange-red.
In a narrow alley on the east side of the plaza, there was an inconspicuous dessert shop, tucked between a used bookstore and a magic crystal shop. Its facade was painted pale green, and a few nearly withered mint plants sat on the windowsill.
Three people sat in a window booth on the second floor.
“So,” Margaret Horn said, setting her silver spoon on the teacup saucer with a crisp clink, “what’s your answer?”
She leaned back in her chair, her long, wavy dark brown hair cascading over her shoulders, a faint smile playing on her lips.
Her deep brown eyes gazed through the glass in front of her at the person opposite, as if admiring an interesting exhibit.
Across from her sat Klaus’s good friend, Alden Cross.
Alden Cross sat up straight.
In front of him sat a cup of iced black tea, a thin sheen of luster on its surface. He hadn't taken a single worried sip since sitting down.
His gaze shifted back and forth between Margaret and Vera Klein, who sat beside her, as if he were facing a difficult multiple-choice question.
“I told you,” Alden said, his voice a few notes lower than usual, “I didn’t agree... nor did I refuse.”
“So you’re still hesitating, then.”
Vera let out a soft snort of laughter from behind her fan.
She was petite, wearing a pale purple dress with a delicate lace trim around the neckline, which accentuated her tiny, exquisite face.
Her eyes curved into two crescents, making her look like a well-behaved, harmless kitten.
But Alden knew that this kitten’s paws were anything but soft.
“Hesitating about what?” Vera tilted her head, slowly turning the fan in her hand. “Are you afraid the villainous daughter will find out, or... do you actually still have a soft spot for her?”
“Don’t joke around, who has a soft spot for whom?!” Alden snapped angrily, nearly swearing aloud.
“You, for the Aldheim family’s eldest daughter,” Vera said, blinking innocently. “After all, she solved your problem of ‘not being able to pursue Liliana’—even if it was in that way.”
“...” Those words made Alden's cheek twitch.
It was like rubbing salt in the wound, enraging him!
It had indeed solved that problem, and also dissolved any potential affections between Liliana and himself!
Alden unpleasantly recalled Loris leaning against the alley wall by the cafe that day—her light golden hair, emerald green eyes, and that wicked, playful smile on her lips.
As well as her words: “You mean you used my reputation as a stepping stone, just to pursue a girl?”
Driven by his survival instinct, he had no choice but to spill everything, letting Liliana see his incredibly hypocritical side. Every time he thought of it, his molars clenched.
“She's truly infuriating,” Alden said, enunciating each word. “I truly despise her.”
“So, why don’t you join us?” Vera revealed half her face from behind her fan, her eyes curving even deeper.
“Vera,” Margaret interrupted her. “Stop teasing him.”
She picked up her coffee cup, took a sip, her movements as elegant as if she were performing at a court tea party. Then she placed the cup back on the saucer, the porcelain making a soft clink.
Alden felt it was a taunt.
He kept a straight face and remained silent.
“Alden,” her tone suddenly turned serious, and the smile on her lips faded slightly. “We aren't asking you to take a stand.”
“We just want you to know—”
She paused, looking directly at him.
“You hate Loris, and we hate Loris too.”
“That common ground is enough for us to be friends. There’s no talk of doing anything, just sitting down and chatting.”
Alden was silent for a moment.
“...Really? You genuinely don’t plan to do anything? If it’s just to rant about Loris, I’d be thrilled!”
Margaret and Vera exchanged a glance.
It was a quick glance, so brief that one wouldn't notice it without deliberately paying attention.
But in that instant, both their lips simultaneously curved into an almost imperceptible smile.
“No, we do have ideas,” Vera said.
“The Summer Ball,” Margaret said.
Alden’s recently animated eyebrows twitched.
“Have you heard of the Summer Ball tradition?” Margaret asked, setting down her coffee cup and clasping her hands on her lap. “Every year there's an ‘opening dance’ segment—where the highest-ranking and most representative students of the Academy dance first.”
“This year’s chosen pair, if all goes as expected—”
“His Highness Leonhart and Loris,” Alden finished her sentence.
“Correct,” Margaret nodded, the curve of her lips deepening slightly. “The Crown Prince and his fiancée, performing the first dance before all the teachers, students, and invited nobles.”
“What a beautiful scene,” Vera sighed from behind her fan, her tone carrying an inexplicable bitterness, like lemon juice. “Everyone will be watching them, praising them as a match made in heaven.”
“What a pity,” Margaret’s voice drawled, “if there were to be a little... incident? For example, if someone were to trip and fall, or if a dress were to become soiled?”
Alden was gradually dumbfounded.
They, they want to do something bad!
This matter was no less than forging a mortal enmity with Loris! ...Although forging a mortal enmity with Loris was quite easy too.
After all, at the start of school, Liliana merely bumped into Loris and was tormented by this villainous daughter! She truly was too wicked and evil!
She even publicly severed her ambiguity with Waldenburg because of it!
“Tell me,” Alden said, his face darkening as he thought of his own ruined relationship with Liliana.
“Aren't you and your friends both executives in the student council?” Margaret said lightly.
...
Alden remained silent for a long time about this.
He probably knew what to do, but he couldn't be the only one doing something bad, so the two of them should join in too.
With that in mind, Alden cunningly played dumb.
“So you already have a plan?” Alden looked up.
Margaret and Vera exchanged another glance.
“Part of one,” Margaret said. “There are still some details to iron out.”
“We’ll tell you when we need your help.”
“But not now.”
Vera stood up from her seat, picked up the lace parasol beside her, and opened it.
The pale purple canopy cast a shadow in the setting sun, obscuring half her face.
“That’s enough for today,” she said, her tone as light as if she were commenting on the good weather. “Alden, you can take your time considering it. The Summer Ball is still three weeks away, no rush.”
“Just—,” she turned back, revealing half her face from beneath the parasol’s rim, an almost imperceptible chill flashing in her crescent-shaped eyes, “don’t tell anyone about today, okay?”
“Otherwise...”
She didn't finish.
But Alden understood from Margaret's gesture.
Rate on N.U.
