The medical mages of the Wayne family were highly experienced, after all. The horrific wound on Alicia's thigh when she was carried off the field had already stopped bleeding after emergency treatment, and even the ice shards that had frozen inside had been meticulously cleared away. In a world with healing magic, an injury of this level was not even a major issue; a few days of bed rest would have her back on her feet.
However, the internal injuries Alicia had sustained from forcibly overdrawing her mana required quite a bit more effort from the medical mages.
The Wayne family's grand estate occupied a sizeable portion of Radiant City. The room Alicia stayed in was a private ward—spacious, bright, with a soft bed and windows facing the garden.
At this moment, Alicia sat leaning against the headboard in loose patient robes, staring blankly at the ceiling. Her long purple hair lay scattered across her pillow, and her thigh was wrapped in thick bandages.
Margaret sat on a chair by the bedside, holding an apple. Her knife turned in circles around the skin, carving out a perfect, unbroken red spiral.
Halfway through peeling the apple, Alicia suddenly spoke.
“I... lost, Margaret.”
Margaret's hands paused, the apple peel snapping halfway. Composing herself, she kept her tone as gentle as possible. “It's alright, young mistress. You were already amazing. Didn't the master say so just now? You only lack a bit of experience. Against any other opponent, you would have won easily.”
Alicia didn't reply. She gently touched her injured thigh through the blanket and murmured, “He is so strong... terrifyingly strong. And... it hurts so much, Margaret.”
As she spoke, tears welled up and spilled from the corners of her eyes, tracing down her cheeks.
Margaret quickly set the apple down and sat on the edge of the bed, gently pulling Alicia into her arms. “It's alright, it's alright. Don't cry, don't cry.”
Alicia buried her head in the maid's chest, her voice muffled. “I'm not willing to accept this... I'm just not willing...”
She finally broke down, her shoulders trembling with sobs. Margaret stopped speaking and simply patted her back, feeling the warmth and tears of the young girl in her arms. This was exactly what she had been worried about. The young mistress had grown up under the glorious halo of the Wayne family. Highly talented, proud, and confident, she had almost never tasted defeat. Having lost so thoroughly this time, would she be able to pick herself back up?
But Alicia's weeping did not last long.
She raised her head, her nose red, her eyes still pooling with unshed tears, but the despair in her eyes had already burned itself out.
“Next time,” she sniffled hard, her voice still trembling with a sob, “next time, I will definitely win.”
Margaret stared intently at her mistress's face. Tears still stained her cheeks, but her eyes were incredibly bright, like burning gems. Margaret suddenly felt a warmth in her own eyes, nearly moving her to tears as well.
“Mhm!” Margaret nodded firmly. “I believe in you.”
The maid suddenly felt that Erich was right—she only needed to believe in her young mistress.
...
The third floor of the academy cafeteria.
“To victory, cheers!”
Eight cups clinked together with a crisp ring.
The third floor of the cafeteria was considered a high-end dining area within the academy. The private room was elegantly decorated, the table laden with dishes and wine, and the guests toasted merrily back and forth.
Erich's roommate, Balin, was the one who organized this celebration, claiming that Erich's victory in the ranking tournament's opening match deserved a proper feast.
Originally, Balin had planned to take his few broke buddies to the first floor to grab a couple of simple stir-fried dishes and call it a day. However, just as they reached the cafeteria entrance, they ran into Lorraine's group, and the atmosphere instantly became rather delicate.
Lorraine read everyone's minds almost instantly. With a bright smile, she suggested that the more, the merrier, so why not join forces? She then turned to look at the young princess, who stared expressionlessly at Erich before nodding decisively, declaring that this meal was on her.
Thus, the eight of them ended up sharing a private room.
The initial hint of awkwardness in the room quickly melted away, and after a few rounds of drinks, the atmosphere became thoroughly lively.
Balin and Yser drank the fastest and the most. Balin was a dwarf, so his tolerance was naturally a bottomless pit. Yser, on the other hand, usually only ate meat and claimed never to touch alcohol. However, at some point, Balin had somehow introduced him to drinking, and the two had been kindred spirits ever since. Neither would back down when it came to drinking. As one jug after another was emptied, both of their faces grew flushed all the way down to their necks.
Although Ragg was usually quiet, he let his guard down quite a bit in this atmosphere. Having been coaxed into drinking a fair amount, he was now leaning back in his chair with a goofy grin, lost in his own thoughts.
Erich, however, hadn't drunk much. Even though almost everyone at the table had come to toast him—except for the Holy Maiden, who quietly held her cup from beginning to end, taking only the occasional sip—Erich's drink-dodging skills had reached the pinnacle of mastery. He always managed to sneakily pour his alcohol into a bowl or swap his drink for plain water during gaps in the conversation. After a few rounds, the ones trying to get him drunk had all passed out, while he remained completely unaffected.
Once Lorraine had too much to drink, she stood on her chair and began to sing, her lyrics slurred and unintelligible. The Holy Maiden tried to pull her down several times, but she insisted on standing up, eventually stepping right onto the table. It wasn't until the Holy Maiden expressionlessly grabbed her by the back of her collar and dragged her down that she finally quieted down.
By the time Balin and Yser had both collapsed onto the table, completely unconscious, and Ragg had started snoring, while Lorraine was held down in her chair by the Holy Maiden, mumbling incoherently, Erich picked up his cup and walked out onto the private room's balcony.
The night wind blew past, carrying the cool chill of early autumn. From here, he could overlook the night scenery of the academy, and further in the distance, the lights of Radiant City stretched out like a sea of scattered stars.
Erich leaned against the railing and let out a breath.
Light footsteps sounded behind him, stopping half a step away. The two of them stood side by side on the balcony, gazing silently into the distant night.
A faint scent of fruit wine drifted on the night wind. Erich turned his head to see the young princess standing beside him. Her usually cold and reserved face wore an unnatural flush, and her eyes were glazed with a watery sheen. She had clearly had quite a lot to drink.
Neither of them spoke.
After a moment, the young princess suddenly asked, “Was dinner good?”
Erich nodded. “Yes.”
The young princess said nothing more. She gazed silently into the distance, the night wind lifting and settling her short, pale-golden hair.
Then, she suddenly said, “I still think... roasted spider legs taste better.”
With that, her body went limp like a doll with its strings cut, and she tipped straight over toward Erich.
Erich reached out and caught her.
She was incredibly light, like a feather. Just like that, the young princess of the empire leaned against the shoulder of a disgraced, exiled noble, falling into a peaceful sleep.
Erich didn't speak, nor did he move. He simply stood silently in the night wind, watching the flickering lights of Radiant City. His eyes held a complex expression, lost in thoughts of his own.
Rate on N.U.
