Seraphel walked beside Louis in silence for several steps, his expression unreadable. It was clear he was weighing something—whether to speak at all, or leave the matter untouched. In the end, he exhaled softly, as though resigning himself to the decision.
"You should understand the context," he said.
Louis turned fully toward him.
"Natasha comes from an Earl's family," Seraphel continued. "One known for producing sentinel knights—shield wardens, defensive commanders, front-line anchors. Families like hers value endurance and formation above everything else."
He paused briefly.
"She was the firstborn. The intended heir."
Louis frowned slightly but said nothing.
"When her class awakened as a druid," Seraphel went on, "it complicated matters. Not disgraceful—just… misaligned. Preparations were made to marry her off to a viscount. Quietly. Efficiently."
His gaze remained forward as they walked.
"But before those arrangements were finalized, a younger brother was born. A promising heir. Better suited to the family's expectations."
Seraphel glanced at Louis.
"With that, the pressure eased. The matter was left alone."
Louis absorbed that in silence.
"She took advantage of the opening," Seraphel said. "Proposed attending the academy instead. Argued that her academic potential would bring greater long-term value to the family than a rushed political marriage."
He gave a faint shrug.
"Whether she ever intended to return to the marriage market is unknown. What is known is that she devoted herself entirely to research. Theory. Practice. She graduated on merit alone."
They slowed to a stop.
"She came to me afterward," Seraphel added. "Requested to follow me—as my assistant."
Louis looked at him in surprise.
"For context," Seraphel said calmly, "I am of marquis blood. I do not take disciples lightly. Nor assistants."
That alone explained more than needed to be said.
"She earned her position," he finished.
Seraphel resumed walking, then slowed again.
"When she sees you training with a sword," he continued, "she does not see adaptability. She sees rejection."
Louis stiffened.
"She would normally correct you. Guide you. Even if she disliked your choices," Seraphel said. "Total silence means she believes you've already decided to abandon your path."
He stopped and turned to Louis, his expression serious.
"That matters to her."
With that, Seraphel Fell turned away and continued down the corridor, leaving Louis standing alone.
The footsteps faded.
Louis remained there, unmoving, the echo of the words settling uncomfortably in his chest. Firstborn. Replacement. Choice. Rejection.
By the time he realized Seraphel was already gone, the corridor felt far too wide.
He let out a slow breath and muttered under his breath,
"Damn it… I didn't sign up for this."