That bento box sat on Bell’s desk, feeling heavy and oppressive.
The exquisite cloth wrap and the cute knot all served to showcase the “care” of its creator.
His classmates nearby cast envious glances from time to time.
“Master Bell, your sister is so good to you.”
“Yeah, she makes you a bento every day and even delivers it to the door.”
“I wish I had a sister like that.”
Bell did not respond.
He simply opened the bento box.
Heart shaped tamagoyaki, apples carved into the shapes of little rabbits, and rice balls with smiley faces drawn in ketchup.
It was so perfect it made him want to vomit.
He picked up his chopsticks, took a piece of tamagoyaki, and placed it in his mouth without expression.
It was sweet.
Sickeningly sweet.
He chewed and swallowed mechanically.
“Brother, you have to eat it all.”
That whisper echoed in his mind again, carrying a sticky, humid heat.
His stomach churned.
He forced the feeling down and continued to eat.
One bite after another.
He was not eating breakfast; he was swallowing shackles and chewing on shame.
Every frame of the previous night replayed repeatedly in his head.
Lilian’s screams, Cecilia’s pathological ecstasy, and that broken fang, still warm and stained with blood, that had been forced into his hand.
He had not slept.
Not for a single second.
Whenever he closed his eyes, that bloody scent—a mixture of iron rust and strawberry sweetness—would rise from the back of his tongue and choke him.
Finally, he finished the last bite of rice.
He replaced the lid on the empty bento box and set it aside.
He had completed his “mission.”
The morning class was Basic Magic Theory.
The instructor on the podium was explaining the fundamental construction of mana circuits, but Bell did not hear a single word.
His head was buzzing, and all his energy was being used to maintain a facade of calm.
In the afternoon, they had Practical Mana Control.
Today’s lesson was “shaping and maintaining the water element.”
The students were paired up on the broad training grounds.
The instructor’s requirement was simple: condense a water sphere the size of a fist and maintain it for three minutes without it collapsing.
This was the most basic entry level magic.
Bell’s partner was Kyle.
The red haired boy he had coldly pushed away was, for some reason, still assigned to be by his side by the instructor.
Kyle did not initiate conversation; he just stood to the side, looking somewhat awkward.
“Begin!”
At the instructor’s command, everyone began chanting incantations and mobilizing their mana.
Bell reached out his hand and closed his eyes.
He tried to concentrate and feel the free floating water elements in the air.
But his mental strength had already been exhausted by the previous night’s torment.
His mind was a chaotic mess as the faces of Cecilia, Lilian, and Leovite flashed intermittently.
“Brother...”
An auditory hallucination.
He snapped his eyes open, and the mana in his hand instantly went out of control.
An unstable mass of water exploded in his palm. Instead of forming a sphere, it splashed everywhere, soaking both him and Kyle.
The entire field went silent.
Everyone looked over.
The instructor looked at him in shock, as if unable to believe that the eldest son of the House of Lucas would fail at even the most basic water sphere spell.
“Bell Lucas! What are you doing?”
Bell stood there in a sorry state, water dripping from the tips of his hair and the hem of his clothes. His entire being radiated an aura of dejection.
He was finished.
In everyone’s eyes, he had become a joke.
Just then, a soft female voice spoke up.
“Instructor, Junior Bell... he is just not feeling well. He came to the clinic yesterday, and I examined him.”
Tia Astane stepped out from the crowd. Holding a clean towel, she walked quickly to Bell.
No one doubted Tia’s words.
“Are you okay? You look terrible.”
As she spoke, she hurriedly helped Bell wipe the water from his face.
Bell froze.
The warmth of the girl’s fingers reached him through the towel, bringing a trace of comfort.
Her movements were clumsy and even a bit frantic, yet they carried a long lost, pure kindness that held no ulterior motives.
“I...”
He wanted to say he was fine, but no sound came from his throat.
Seeing him like this, Tia became even more certain of her judgment. She turned to the instructor and bowed deeply.
“Instructor, Junior Bell has been in a bad state since this morning. He might have a fever. May I take him to the clinic?”
The instructor looked at Bell’s pale face and then at the worried Tia before finally nodding.
“Go on. Bell, you need to rest.”
Under the varied gazes of the crowd, Tia supported Bell as they left the training grounds.
The clinic was empty.
The afternoon sun poured through the window, making the dust in the air clearly visible.
“Sit down for a moment. I will go get you some water.”
Tia settled Bell onto a bed and then ran off to prepare things.
Bell sat on the edge of the bed, his body still stiff.
He watched Tia’s busy back. The girl in the medical assistant’s white robe had warm, flaxen curly hair.
She soon returned with a steaming cup of herbal tea.
“Here, this is tea brewed with anxiety soothing herb and mint. It can relieve fatigue and make you feel a bit better.”
She handed the cup to Bell. Her fingertips accidentally brushed the back of his hand, and she immediately pulled back like a lightning strike, a blush creeping onto her cheeks.
Bell held the warm cup and looked down at the rising steam.
A fresh, herbal scent entered his nose.
He took a small sip.
It was mild and clean, without any strange aftertaste.
A warm current slid down his throat into his stomach, dispelling some of the coldness lingering in his body.
“Thank you.”
He finally spoke, though his voice was dry.
“You... you are welcome,” Tia said, waving her hands somewhat incoherently. “You really look far too tired. You must get some good rest.”
Bell did not speak again; he just quietly drank the tea.
The clinic was very peaceful.
Only the occasional chirping of birds could be heard from outside.
Bell watched Tia organizing the medicine cabinet. The sunlight fell on her profile, outlining her with a soft, fuzzy glow.
In this moment, an absurd thought uncontrollably bubbled up.
What if...
What if there was no Cecilia?
What if he were just an ordinary noble youth?
Could he have lived an... ordinary life with a girl like the one before him?
Attending classes together, reading in the library, and walking along the academy’s tree lined paths.
He would clumsily confess his feelings to her, and she would shyly lower her head.
They would hold hands and embrace.
The sun would be bright, and the air would smell of grass and soil.
No surveillance, no threats, and no eyes that could tear everything apart at any moment.
None of... that strawberry flavored bloodiness.
The thought lasted for only three seconds.
Three seconds later, Cecilia’s face, with its distorted smile, instantly shattered all fantasies.
“Brother, you cannot escape.”
Reality was cold and cruel.
How could he be worthy of such a life?
He was merely a condemned prisoner struggling in vain beneath the guillotine.
Bell drained the tea in the cup, but the warm liquid could not warm his heart as it plunged back into an ice cellar.
He stood up.
“Senior Tia, how is Lilian... my maid?”
“Ah?” Tia blinked, taking a moment to react. “She is still resting in the inner ward. She is no longer in danger, it is just...”
There was a hint of confusion in her voice.
“Just what?”
“Her wounds have completely healed, but... that broken tooth shows no sign of regeneration. Logically, a vampire’s self healing ability should allow even parts like teeth to slowly regrow.”
Bell’s heart sank.
“I see. Thank you, Senior.”
He bowed to Tia. “Thank you for today. And regarding Lilian, please continue to keep it a secret.”
“I... I promised you I would,” Tia said hurriedly.
Bell did not stay any longer and turned toward the clinic door.
He had to find Leovite.
He had to become stronger.
He had no time to waste on fantasies and weakness.
His hand rested on the doorknob as he adjusted his breathing, pushing all the emotions that should not be there back into the deepest part of his heart.
Then, he pulled the door open.
Outside the door.
The light in the hallway was somewhat dim.
A slender figure stood there quietly.
Cecilia.
She was not wearing her academy uniform; instead, she had changed into a pure black dress, her long silver hair draped over her shoulders.
She just stood there, motionless, not even looking at him.
But Bell could feel that cold gaze, devoid of any warmth, firmly locked onto him.
Rate on N.U.
