Chapter 27. The Notorious Freshman

The central staircase leading to the attic was a spiral, illuminated by golden sunlight streaming through a wall of windows.

Spring had arrived. In the gardens outside, lilac trees bloomed in soft shades of lavender, their fragrance almost teasingly wafting up as if it might somehow reach even here.

I paused on the landing, taking a moment to steady my breath and absorb the view of the Academy’s garden. A white cabbage butterfly fluttered aimlessly through the air, colliding against the clear windowpane. As though catching a whiff of freedom, it seemed to search for an escape.

“Haa…”

Even the stale scent of an old building seemed sweet here.

This was where everything would begin anew.

❖　❖　❖

Over the past year, I had read and written until I was sick of the sight of words. But I had placed my trust in Mine. Her genius intellect and unnervingly vivid memories had secured me the top spot in the entrance exams for the Academy.

The report card had been delivered to the Ebellucia estate, and when we opened it together, the Marchioness let out a delighted squeal and embraced me tightly. Startled by the commotion, the Marquis hobbled out of his study, tossed aside his cane, and joined in the boisterous celebration.

‘I knew you could do it, Miss Myrda! I knew it!’

‘Ha! My instincts haven’t dulled one bit. First place! First place, by the heavens!’

With the Marquis’s heartfelt recommendation bolstering my application, I became a star even before formally enrolling in the Academy. It was a good development; only a select few graduates could hope to enter the prestigious research institute I was aiming for. Building a strong reputation early would serve me well.

The dormitory had no elevators, so I had to trudge up five flights of stairs to my room. Students whispered and cast sidelong glances at the notorious new freshman, but none offered to help.

Well, what could I expect? After all, not one student wanted to share a room with a commoner, so I had been assigned to the attic room alone.

“At least I get a big room all to myself,” I muttered, trying to convince myself it wasn’t so bad.

The fifth floor seemed to have been left entirely neglected, with no signs of upkeep. Dust swirled around me as I coughed and opened the door. The hinge groaned ominously before the door fell off its frame with a thud.

“…”

Well, I could ask someone to fix it later.

I threw my luggage onto the floor and flopped onto the creaky bed. At least the bedding smelled fresh, as though it had been recently replaced.

“…It is spacious.”

I murmured. Judging by the spacing between other rooms, this one was likely twice their size—though easily twenty times as dusty.

After catching my breath, I began to carefully examine the room. The bare space held only a bed, a bookshelf, and a desk. There was a single round window draped in heavy, dreary curtains.

To air out the room, I pulled back the curtains and pushed the window open.

“Ah…”

Warm spring air flowed in like water, carrying the rich scent of blooming flowers. The lively chatter of students in the courtyard mixed with the spirited calls of the rowing team practicing by the riverbank. The spring breeze tousled my hair, its energy brimming with life.

And then, I saw *her*.

I leaned against the window frame to get a better look, ignoring the dust smudging my fingers.

Amid the crowd of brightly dressed girls reveling in the spring air, there she was: Lanafesia. With her hair swept elegantly over one shoulder, she stood like a lone swan among a flock of noisy geese.

“…Lanafesia.”

My lips pressed into a thin line, and my fingers dug into the wooden frame.

“Lanafesia Dottney…”

The daughter of Consul Dottney, ruler of the Republic of Ingberri. She was the heroine of ‘Bitten by a Mad Dog’.

And I had to remember—this was a tragedy.

The novel’s male lead, Neumonte Acarlipto, had desired Lanafesia from the start. After using Mine to advance his ambitions, he set his sights on Lanafesia and eventually claimed her as his own. Their union was purely transactional, a calculated move to elevate his status. Lanafesia, too, was nothing more than a pawn to him.

Readers had pitied Lanafesia. The novel’s grim end had left no room for hope or justice. Even in the epilogue, the author refused to grant the characters happiness. It was unrelentingly bleak, a source of anguish for its audience—and yet, a certain breed of reader, like me, relished such torment.

As a fan of Nexiard, the second male lead, I had harbored resentment toward Lanafesia. Sympathy and frustration could coexist, after all.

Why hadn’t she acknowledged Nexiard’s feelings? Had she truly been oblivious, or had she simply pretended not to notice?

“Lanafesia…”

Still, I resolved myself. Lanafesia had been the only one to treat Nexiard as a person, not a tool. It was why he had fallen for her. I would ensure they ended up together.

But despite my resolve, a familiar heaviness began to settle over me. Mine’s body often dredged up fragments of her soul’s memories—always the most painful ones.

‘…Te! Neumonte!’

It was as though her anguish demanded to be acknowledged.

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“…Te! Neumonte!”

Mine’s desperate voice echoed down the palace corridor. Late at night, Neumonte was on his way back from an audience with the king, his steps unwavering. Mine, nearly running, caught up to him and clutched his sleeve.

“Are the rumors true, Neumonte?”

Neumonte, with an elegant but firm motion, shook her off and issued a low-voiced warning.

“There are too many eyes watching, Your Highness.”

Mine let out a hollow laugh, her body trembling as if she’d been plunged into icy water.

“The fact that you suddenly care about appearances must mean the rumors are true. Since when?”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“I asked, since when were you involved with Lanafesia?”

“…There are ears listening as well.”

As if he saw no further need to entertain the conversation, Neumonte turned away. Mine Molière could no longer suppress the surging sense of betrayal. The sound of his steady footsteps echoed, grating on her already raw nerves. Her bloodshot eyes flared as she yelled at his retreating figure.

“Fine! Let them hear it all! Just the letters we’ve exchanged alone—”

“Your Highness, Your Highness.”

In an instant, Neumonte closed the distance between them like a jaguar, clamping his hand over her mouth. He pressed her slender frame against the wall, his sudden proximity flooding Mine’s eyes with shock.

She struggled, but Neumonte didn’t release his grip. Instead, with his free hand, he caressed her waist with a teasing touch.

“Shh, my princess.”

“Mm…!”

Neumonte shed his cold mask—or perhaps donned a sweeter one—as he exhaled warm breaths against her ear. As if under a spell, Mine stilled, the touch of the man who desired her seemingly affirming her worth.

“Tonight, I’ll visit you. I’ll clear up this misunderstanding. Leave your window open, princess.”

Mine nodded slowly.

“Good. You’re so beautiful when you behave.”

With a charming smile, Neumonte placed a kiss on her forehead, his damp lips brushing past her nose and cheek toward her ear. A moist sensation traced her earlobe, and Mine swallowed hard, clinging to him.

 

That night, Neumonte Acarlipto entered Mine Molière’s room through the window she had left open.

“Neumonte, I waited all day…”

Their heated bodies collided and pressed together. The softest parts of their forms yielded and intertwined. Standing, Mine received his caresses, only to tumble naturally onto the bed with him, their bodies entangled.

After the storm had passed, Mine pulled the blanket up to her shoulders, her face flushed red.

“Tell me you love me.”

“Is that so? I’d much rather hear you say it to me.”

Neumonte chuckled and playfully nipped her reddened nose. His lips, still lingering on her tender body, whispered against her skin.

“Read me the letters we exchanged.”

“…The letters?”

“Yes. You said earlier you had them. I want to hear them in your voice.”

“…Ugh, that’s embarrassing.”

“It’s my wish, princess.”

“…Alright.”

Naked, Mine rose and retrieved a key from a jewelry box atop the console. She unlocked the third drawer and pulled out a bundle of letters. They had always been cautious, referring to each other by initials, but the content made it clear who the sender and recipient were.

Returning to the bed with the letters, Mine began to read aloud slowly.

“My heart wouldn’t hurt even if it were taken out, M… The days when I miss you so much I feel like I’m going mad…”

Midway through her recitation, Neumonte sat up and snatched the bundle from her hands.

“Are these all the letters?”

Like a drowsy cat, Mine nuzzled her cheek against his chest.

“Yes. They’re all there. I keep them here so I can take them out and read them whenever I think of you before bed…”

“I see.”

Neumonte’s reply was calm. He brushed his lips against her shoulder and, as if it were the most natural thing, got out of bed.

“…Where are you going?”

He crossed the large room and approached the fireplace. Without hesitation, he threw the bundle of letters into the flames.