The same day…
The moment Cecilia vanished from their sight, the dungeon fell into an unnatural silence.
No monsters roared. No mana flared.
Only the soft drip of water from the distance and the sound of dozens of hearts pounding too fast.
Whispers started first. Small. Sharp. Poisonous.
"Did you see her eyes…?"
"She didn't even hesitate."
"Was that really Cecilia?"
"She slapped her… Vivian slapped her."
Vivian stood frozen where she was, her hand still raised in the air as if it had forgotten how to come back down.
Her palm burned.
Not from pain.
From the realization crashing into her all at once.
What did I do?
Her breath came shallow. The anger that had driven her moments ago, hot, righteous, desperate, evaporated, leaving behind something far worse.
Shock.
Cecilia hadn't shouted.
She hadn't retaliated.
She hadn't even looked hurt.
She'd looked empty.
Vivian's fingers trembled as she slowly lowered her hand. The murmurs around her grew louder, less restrained now.
"I heard she disappeared for hours."
"They were searching all night."
"But still—slapping her in front of everyone?"
"Did you feel that pressure when Cecilia spoke…?"
"I thought she was going to kill us."
Vivian swallowed hard.
Her chest felt tight, like something was lodged there, refusing to let her breathe properly. She turned in place, half-expecting Cecilia to still be there hovering, glaring, cold and furious.
But there was nothing.
Just the empty space where she had been.
Her mind replayed the moment on a cruel loop:
Cecilia's calm voice.
The absolute lack of warmth.
The words "Just because we spent a year together doesn't mean you can slap me whenever you please."
Vivian's knees felt weak.
I didn't mean to—
I was scared—
I thought she—
Thoughts tangled and collapsed in on themselves.
The instructor stepped forward then, his expression darker than any of them had seen before.
"That's enough," he said sharply.
The whispers died instantly.
He swept his gaze across the class, lingering on Vivian for just a second longer than the rest. Not accusatory. Not comforting.
Assessing.
"We are ending this expedition immediately."
A wave of stunned gasps followed.
"But instructor—"
"We still have—"
"I said immediately." His voice cracked through the air like a blade. The dungeon no longer felt safe. Not because of monsters, but because tensions have escalated beyond control."
He raised his staff, mana gathering quickly, precisely, and practised.
"Form up. Now."
Students scrambled into place, unease thick between them. Vivian moved mechanically, her body obeying while her mind lagged behind. She barely noticed the teleportation circle forming beneath their feet, the intricate runes glowing brighter by the second.
She stared at the empty space where Cecilia should have been.
The realization hurt more than the slap ever could have.
The instructor completed the spell.
Light swallowed them whole.
For a split second, Vivian felt weightless suspended between places, between moments she could never undo.
Then the world snapped back into focus.
Stone beneath her boots.
The familiar air of the academy.
The towering gates are looming ahead.
They were back.
The class stood scattered across the courtyard, stunned, disoriented, quiet. No one spoke.
Vivian remained rooted in place.
Her hand curled slowly into a fist at her side.
I messed up.
She had crossed a line she hadn't even known existed and Cecilia had walked away without giving her the chance to apologize.
As the instructor began issuing orders, Vivian barely heard him.
All she could think was the same terrible question, over and over again:
What if… she never comes back?
"Vivian! Asier!"
Cassian came running across the courtyard, relief written all over his face. He slowed when he reached them, eyes darting past their shoulders.
"You're back," he said, frowning. "But… where's Cecilia? I don't see her."
Vivian's face was drained of colour.
Asier didn't even pause. He merely shrugged, his expression unreadable. "No idea," he said coolly. "Why don't you ask your friend?"
Then he turned on his heel and walked away.
The silence he left behind was thick and uncomfortable.
Cassian looked back at Vivian, confusion tightening his features. "So," he asked carefully, "where's Cecilia?"
Vivian's fingers curled into the fabric of her sleeves. Her voice trembled when she spoke.
"I… I did something."
Cassian's brows knit together. "Did what?"
"I don't know what came over me," she said, the words rushing out now, fragile and uneven. "I was scared and angry and—and I slapped her. In front of everyone."
Cassian froze.
"You did what?" His voice rose despite himself, shock written plainly across his face. "Vivian, why would you do that?" He searched her face, concern mixing with disbelief. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she whispered, though the words sounded hollow even to her. "But Cecilia left. I don't know where she went." Her throat tightened. "And I'm scared she might not come back."
For a moment, Cassian said nothing. Then his expression softened.
"She will," he said gently, as if saying it out loud might make it true. He reached out and took her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Cecilia's stubborn for sure, but I can assure you she will not disappear for good."
Vivian nodded, though her eyes shimmered, tears threatening to spill.
"Come on," Cassian added quietly. "Let's eat something for now. If she doesn't return by tomorrow, we'll go to the headmaster together."
She nodded again, tighter this time, clinging to his hand as they walked hoping, desperately, that it wasn't already too late.
After Asier left them, he returned to his room, He sat down heavily on the edge of his bed, his thoughts immediately drifting back to the previous night, the clash of power, the raw strength he had witnessed, the way the air itself had seemed to bend around her.
"She's strong," he muttered to himself, staring up at the ceiling as he lay back, one arm draped over his eyes. "But she can't possibly be on the same level as me."
Then a single, unwelcome thought slipped into his mind unbidden and far too vivid. Heat crept up his neck, and he shot upright, scowling as if the thought itself had insulted him.
"Have I gone insane?" he snapped under his breath. "How could I even think about that… that witch?"
Restless energy flooded his limbs. He rose and began pacing the room, boots thudding softly against the floor as his mind refused to settle. Each step only stirred his thoughts further, until his wandering gaze finally caught on the small stack of letters resting neatly on the table.
He stopped.
For a moment, he simply stared at them, then exhaled slowly, tension easing from his shoulders.
"I almost forgot," he murmured. "I promised everyone I'd visit."
Straightening, he reached for his cloak, Lingering in his room with his thoughts clearly wasn't helping.
"Guess I'd better get going," he said, more to himself than anyone else, as he turned toward the door.
The town he went to was the same as Cecilia's, though he would have never imagined that she could be here.
The festival had swallowed the streets whole. Lanterns hung overhead, laughter echoed from every direction, and the air was thick with the smell of sweets and firewood. None of it mattered to me. I turned away from the noise and followed the familiar path at the edge of town, my steps slowing as the old building came into view.
The orphanage.
For a moment, I simply stood there, looking at it. The walls were the same dull stone, the windows just as narrow as he remembered. It felt smaller now, but no less heavy with memories. This was where he had grown up, long before the bishop had taken him under his wing and pulled him into a different life altogether.
Before I could knock, the door opened.
"Asier?"
That was all it took. Voices erupted, footsteps rushed toward me, and suddenly I was surrounded. Hands tugged at my cloak, laughter burst out, and faces I hadn't seen in years lit up as if I had never left. I stayed longer than I planned to, listening to their stories, answering questions, offering what little I could. Being there… it grounded me in a way nothing else ever did.
By the time evening fell, they dragged me into the festival.
I walked through the crowded streets with them, letting their excitement pull me along. They laughed, argued over food, and challenged each other at games. For a while, I almost forgot everything beyond the sound of their voices and the warmth of the crowd.
Then I felt it.
I didn't need to look to know that witch was here but I did anyway.
She stood among the festival lights, close enough that I could see her clearly. It didn't seem like she noticed me at all. Every time she drifted into my line of sight, her gaze was lowered, fixed on the ground as if the world around her didn't exist.
I ignored her completely, deliberately, and coldly. She was a stranger to me. Nothing more. She meant nothing. I laughed when the boys cracked their stupid jokes, accepted a drink pressed into my hand, and kept moving, as if she were just another face swallowed by the crowd.
"Asier," Tia called.
I turned toward her. She was the oldest among us, and the closest to my age, sharp-eyed in a way the others weren't.
"What is it?" I asked.
She studied my face for a moment. "I noticed you've been glancing at someone," she said slowly. "But I can't see who. Is there… perhaps a friend of yours here?"
"Friend?" I burst out laughing, the sound sharp and unrestrained. How could she be my friend when I loathed her? When her very existence grated on my nerves? Just thinking about her was irritating enough to make my fingers itch with the urge to crush her with my own hands.
"No," I said, reaching out to ruffle Tia's hair lightly. "I thought I saw someone from the temple, but it must've been someone else."
Before she could press further, I redirected the conversation. "But tell me—how is the orphanage doing so well?" I asked casually. "The last time I was here, the director was worried about finances."
Tia's expression softened as she fixed her hair. "Some kind people have been sponsoring us," she said. "Every month, without fail. They send money regularly and don't demand anything in return."
That made me pause.
Suspicious.
No one gives without expecting something back, especially not to a small-town orphanage filled with commoners. Kindness without conditions always invites danger.
I kept my expression neutral, but my thoughts were already sharpening.
I'd look into this matter myself.
The music swelled nearby, drowning out the moment, and Tia was already being pulled away by the others, their laughter tugging her back into the heart of the festival. I followed, but my mind had shifted elsewhere.
Sponsors who demanded nothing.
That was a lie people told to make themselves feel better.
The next day, I returned to the academy.
I had to.
There was nowhere else to go.
I'd spent the night at the guild, buried in documents and ledgers approving requests, adjusting budgets, correcting inefficiencies. I had acquired more than enough wealth to buy a grand mansion without it making even the slightest dent in my fortune.
But money had never been the problem.
Instead of going to my usual haunts, I headed straight to Cael's class.
By then, it seemed the entire academy had already heard about Vivian's outburst. Whispers followed me down the halls like shadows. Cassian clearly wanted to ask what had happened, but a single look from me was enough to shut him up completely.
"Miss Cecilia," Cael said dryly, "would you kindly stop threatening my students with your glare?"
A few of them flinched.
"And," he added, "come see me in my office after class."
"I understand, Instructor," I replied evenly.
Since we'd become second-years, Cael had significantly intensified his training regimen.
One hundred and fifty laps around the entire training ground.
Two thousand push-ups.
Five thousand slashes horizontal and vertical.
Brutal. Relentless.
And yet, I was still made to sit off to the side, watching.
Cael refused to let me train with the rest of them. Worse still, he deliberately made that vermin out of class, beside me, as if this were some kind of punishment.
I didn't look at him.
But every second I sat there, idle and restrained, grated against my nerves as a blade dragged slowly across bone.
If I wanted to sit idle, I could have done it anywhere.
I wanted to move. To burn my thoughts away with motion. Sitting still only dragged my mind back to last night, every sensation replaying far too vividly, uninvited and relentless.
I sighed.
Resting my cheek against my palm like some lovesick idiot.
And apparently, that alone was enough to invite disaster.
"Why the hell are you sighing like an idiot?" he said and before I could react, splashed cold water straight across my face.
Silence fell.
I slowly wiped the water from my eyes.
"…What the hell did you just do?" My voice was calm. "Do you want to be buried alive?"
"As if you could bury me with those delicate hands," he scoffed.
My lips curved into a dangerous smile. "You really don't value your life, do you?" I tilted my head, eyes glinting. "A twink like you didn't need to come to the academy. You could've lived comfortably, sipping tea and praying all day."
The bottle slipped from his fingers and hit the ground.
"What did you just call me?"
"A twink," I repeated, standing up slowly. "What? Can't take it when it's your turn?"
"That's it," he growled, fists clenched. "I'll make you regret saying that."
He swung first.
I welcomed it.
The impact echoed fist to jaw, knuckles to ribs. We crashed into each other like wild beasts, no mana, no restraint, just pure, unfiltered violence. I slammed my elbow into his side; he grabbed my shoulder and drove me backwards. Gravel bit into my palms as we rolled, striking, grappling, snarling.
"Get off me—!"
"Make me—!"
We slammed into the ground hard, dust exploding around us.
In the next breath, everything flipped.
Suddenly, I was beneath him—his knee between my legs, his weight pinning me down. My hands were fisted in his collar; his were gripping mine just as tightly. We were too close. Too aware.
Breathing hard. Eyes locked.
And then—
The dungeon.
The lake.
The water.
The skin.
That moment.
It hit us both at the same time.
We froze.
Our grips loosened instantly, as if burned.
He jerked back first, face flushing crimson. I turned my head away just as fast, heat crawling up my neck.
"…Tch," he muttered, scrambling to his feet.
I sat up, clearing my throat, refusing to look at him. "Don't flatter yourself," I snapped. "That was nothing."
"Y-Yeah," he shot back far too quickly. "As if I'd remember something like that."
We stood there in stiff, awkward silence both very carefully pretending our faces weren't burning.
"Are you both done rolling around?" Cael's voice cut through the tense air. "Why are you two always fighting?"
"He/She started!" we both shouted, pointing at each other with simultaneous glare.
"Still," he said, raising an eyebrow, "that's the first time you've stopped by yourselves. I heard you went missing in the dungeon. Did… something happen there?"
"Nothing happened," we said in unison, voices flat and devoid of inflexion.
"This is… interesting," Cael murmured, "Now, please, stop glaring at each other. And Miss Cecilia, follow me to my office."
Cassian's eyes followed me as I got up. I could feel his gaze burning, probably trying to reconcile us. Let him try. I ignored him, letting the door close behind me.
The moment it clicked shut, the air changed thicker, heavier, as if the room itself bent to his presence.
"Why have you called me, Commander?" I asked, keeping my tone clipped, distant. I never used "Instructor" with him, it didn't suit the weight of what I was here for.
"It's nothing important," he said, gesturing to a seat. "I wanted to know if you'd be willing to go on a dungeon expedition with the seniors."
"And where is this place?"
"North."
I paused, weighing the word. Another dungeon, I presumed it wouldn't be that pervert's cursed place. I don't like him or his place.
"I'll go," I said, my voice sharp, calculated. "It's been a while since I swung my scythe. I'm itching to kill a few monsters."
"Don't go overboard while killing," he warned, sighing.
"I won't," I replied coolly. "All kills will remain within the boundaries of reason."
He hesitated, then added, "Also… Her Majesty asked about you. I haven't written back yet. Do you want me to?"
"Tell them I'm fine. Tell them I'm having fun," I said, rising from my seat. "Then I'll take my leave."
Their Majesties had been the first to recognize me on the frontlines, the only ones who treated me with kindness without expectation. They even made me stay at the imperial palace for six months and showed me their genuine care, yet I couldn't accept it and returned to the frontline.
I strode down the hallway, my thoughts focused, when suddenly a hand gripped mine from behind.
"Lia—"
I whipped my head around, my eyes cold and unyielding. "Let go," I said, voice icy enough to snap steel. "Before I make you regret it." I didn't look at her, didn't flinch.
She shook her head, voice trembling. "No… I won't. I'm sorry for raising my hand at you. I… I don't know what came over me."
I tightened my grip on my scythe in my mind, pulling my hand free with an almost clinical precision. "I don't want to hear your excuses. I don't care why you did that." My tone was ruthless, devoid of warmth or mercy. "If you'll excuse me."
I started walking again, deliberately leaving her behind. "And one more thing, don't call me Lia. It's either Miss Florence or Lady Florence."
She froze, her hand hovering in the air, as the weight of my words sank in. There was no softness in my voice, no leniency. Not anymore.
Vivian's hand lingered in the air, trembling slightly, as I walked ahead without a glance. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and for a moment, I thought she might step forward again.
But I didn't turn.
"Cecilia…" she whispered, voice barely audible, full of shock and hurt. Her usual fiery spirit faltered under the cold wall I had built around myself. "Was… was I… wrong? Did I—"
Her words caught in her throat. She knew instinctively that no apology, no plea, could breach the armour I had drawn around my heart.
"You were mistaken," I said bluntly, my voice slicing through the hallway like a blade. "I don't need explanations. I don't need apologies. I won't—ever—rely on you to dictate my actions."
Her lips trembled. "But… I didn't mean to hurt you."
I stopped for a fraction of a second, letting the words hit her. Not a flicker of warmth softened my gaze. "Intentions mean nothing when the result is irrelevant. Don't follow me. Don't interfere. Stay out of my way."
Her shoulders slumped as if she had physically felt the weight of my rejection. Her hands fell to her sides, powerless. For the first time, I saw true hesitation in her, the realization that the person she had once trusted completely now stood as a wall of steel and ice.
"I…" she faltered, swallowing hard, her voice cracking. "I just… I didn't want to lose you."
"You already did," I said, stepping past her with deliberate calm, my eyes fixed on the path ahead. "If you value me, stay back. This… is the boundary. Cross it again, and you'll regret it."
Her chest heaved with unsteady breaths. I could hear her heartbeat, rapid and chaotic, betraying the storm within her. But I didn't turn. I didn't comfort her. The ruthless barrier between us was absolute.
She finally lowered her gaze, the fight draining from her. The echo of my footsteps faded in the hall as she whispered, almost to herself, "Miss Florence…"
I didn't respond. I never would.
And in that silence, I felt the cold satisfaction of absolute control yet, somewhere deep in the edges of my consciousness, a tiny, unacknowledged pang of guilt flickered. But it was fleeting, buried beneath the avalanche of resolve I had forged.
To be continued...