The air between them thickened, not with hatred anymore, but something harder to name—an uneasy weight of rivalry, pride, and secrets.
Shaumin turned his head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. His smirk wasn't mocking this time. If anything, it carried something close to respect.
Before he could respond, the infirmary door slammed open, the sound slicing through the stillness.
"Shaumin!" The voice cut through the air like a blade. A woman swept into the room, tall and strikingly beautiful, carrying herself with the effortless grace of nobility.
Long, silky brown hair flowed behind her, black eyes gleamed sharp as obsidian, and her figure radiated both elegance and authority. Though in her thirties, her youthful radiance could rival women half her age.
Her royal light-blue hanfu shimmered with silken folds, golden embroidery carrying the mark of nobility in every thread. Yet it was her eyes—sharp as daggers—that froze the air cold. Delicate jewellery adorned her wrists and ears, each piece glinting with refinement.
This was Diana Skyline—matriarch of the Skyline family, and mother of Shaumin. Shaumin stiffened on his cot, his usual smirk dissolving. His knuckles tightened around the blanket.
"…Mother."
"Shaumin. Oh my god! What happened? Who did this to you?" Diana's eyes scanned the room—first her battered son, then the others. Her voice was sharp, cold, commanding.
"Who dared to do this to my son? I, Lady Diana Skyline, demand the name of the one responsible."
The silence that followed was taut as a drawn bow. Shaun shifted, but Natasha rose first, stepping forward with a composed bow.
"Lady Diana. My name is Natasha Ikazuchi. This is Shaun Thunderhawk, and there—Sabastian Seaborne. If you seek the ones responsible… it was us."
Diana's lips pressed into a thin line. "You? You struck my son?" Her tone carried disbelief, but not scorn. "Do you even comprehend the weight of such an act?"
Natasha's chin lifted. Her voice remained steady.
"With respect, my lady—we did not strike first," Her tone sharpened, each word falling heavy.
"Since yesterday, Shaumin has mocked Shaun. He's tried to break Sabastian's spirit, just because they were born commoners. He stole what was meant to be Sabastian's first gift of friendship—and twisted it into a weapon for humiliation. We stood against him not out of spite, but because Sabastian's dignity deserved to be defended."
Her eyes did not waver. "This fight wasn't born from rivalry—it was born from bullying. Your son's bullying."
Shaun watched her, silent, a faint flicker of pride softening the pain etched in his face. Sabastian lowered his head, shoulders trembling.
Diana's lips pressed tighter. The silence that followed was heavier than any shout. Then she turned, her heels striking sharply against the wooden floor as she advanced to Shaumin's bed.
"Shaumin," she said, her voice like thunder restrained. "Look me in the eyes."
Shaumin hesitated, then forced his gaze upward. His mother's stare burned.
"Is it true?" she demanded. "Are you the one responsible for this?"
Shaumin clenched his jaw, looking away. His pride, usually unshakable, faltered under her piercing gaze. "I… I fought him, yes. But I did not—"
"Enough!" Diana's voice thundered. Her palm slammed against the bedpost, the sharp crack echoing through the room. Even Natasha flinched.
"Reckless child! Is this what we raised you to be? To drag our family's name through the dirt with arrogance and violence? Did we not teach you to respect all—regardless of their blood? Do you take pride in this, in disgracing your academy and your house? You will apologize to them. All of them. Now," She turned sharply, gesturing toward Shaun, Natasha, and Sabastian.
The room stilled. Shaumin sat upright, his hands digging into the sheets. His teeth clenched, a storm of defiance flashing across his face. His fists trembled. His pride screamed against his mother's demand.
Apologize? For what? I did nothing wrong. They don't understand—none of them do…
Diana's glare blazed, fury and disappointment entwined. "Do not test my patience, boy."
Shaun, lying quietly on the neighbouring bed, said nothing. But his chest tightened as he watched. She scolds him not for losing… but for arrogance. So… not all nobles are the same.
"Shaumin Skyline. I will ask you only once more—are you, or are you not, going to apologize to these three?" Diana's eyes narrowed, her voice slicing the silence.
The weight of her command pressed the room cold. Natasha stood stiff, Sabastian lowered his gaze, and even Shaun felt his breath catch. Shaumin sat rigid on his cot, fists digging into the sheets. His jaw clenched so tightly it trembled. Finally, he rasped through his teeth,
"No. I will not. My intentions were not wrong."
The words cracked the air like thunder. Diana's fury blazed, her hand slamming the bedpost with a sharp crack.
"Intentions? Do you call disgrace intention? You drag our family's honour through the dirt! You tarnish not only yourself, but your father's name—the Emperor's minister! Is this what we raised you to be? A reckless brute who mocks the dignity of others?"
Shaumin flinched, but his defiance burned on, his storm-black eyes refusing to yield.
Before anyone could speak further, the infirmary door creaked open. An apprentice healer slipped in, carrying a tray of bandages and bowls of steaming herbs. She paused as the stench of the sealed shards in Natasha's vial drifted faintly through the air. Her nose wrinkled in disgust.
She glanced toward Natasha. "Miss Natasha… I studied that glass you handed me earlier. It's no perfume. It's an extract—made from foul fish oils. The kind that clings to skin and reeks for days."
Natasha's eyes hardened. She rose to her feet, pulling the vial from her pouch. Her voice cut across the room, sharp and accusing.
"So, Shaumin… what do you say now? Were you part of this too? Did you join hands with Albus and his dogs—pretend friendship, lure Sabastian in, then plan to break him with this filth?"
"Perfume? Explain, Natasha. What perfume?" Diana's head snapped toward her son, fury tightening her posture.
"My lady, earlier today, Albus and his friends gifted Sabastian this bottle as a 'token of friendship.' But when it shattered during the fight, the stench proved it was no gift. It was a weapon of humiliation—a trap meant to disgrace Sabastian in front of everyone," Natasha bowed her head slightly, her tone respectful but firm.
The words sank like stones. Sabastian hunched lower, shame clawing at his chest. Diana turned back to her son, her voice sharp as a blade.
"Shaumin. Answer me. Were you part of this cruelty?"
The room froze, silence taut as a bowstring. Shaumin's fists trembled. For a long moment he said nothing, then his voice broke the air—low, strained, but steady.
"…I did bully him. I mocked him, provoked him, fought him. That much is true. But that-" He nodded toward the vial in Natasha's hand- "That bottle was Albus and his pack of cowards. Their scheme, not mine."
His eyes flickered briefly toward Shaun and Sabastian before dropping.
"I heard them this morning—in the washroom. They laughed about it. How they'd fake friendship, gift him their 'perfume,' then make him the academy's laughingstock when it shattered. That's why I followed them. Why I stepped in. Not to help them—but to stop them."
The silence that followed was heavy. Natasha's lips parted, her sharp glare faltering. Shaun's chest rose and fell slowly, eyes narrowing with thought. Sabastian's trembling fingers stilled, disbelief warring with hope.
Diana's hand, still gripping the bedpost, eased slightly. Her voice dropped, quieter now, but no less firm.
"You did all this… to protect us?" Shaun asked, his voice measured, searching.
Across the room, Sabastian finally lifted his head. His trembling fingers stilled as his eyes locked on Shaumin.
"So all this pride… all this cruelty… was nothing but a shield? Your way of protecting us?"
Shaumin's shoulders sagged, pride draining out of him like water through a cracked jar. His voice came low, rough, almost weary.
"…I never said it was right. But yes. That was my reason."
Natasha's tone softened, but stayed sharp.
"If your intention was really to protect Sabastian from the bullies… then why not just tell us? Why hide behind arrogance and mockery? Why choose their twisted path?"
Shaumin's hands curled tighter around the sheets. His storm-black eyes flickered, and for the first time, his smirk was gone.
"Because if I stood beside you openly, I'd be next. Do you think Albus and his pack would spare me? No. They'd mark me as a traitor to my own blood."
He looked away, jaw trembling, voice low.
"You think I'm the only one? There are many nobles, even aristocrats, who pity the Commoners. Who want to help. But they don't. They can't. Because the moment they do, they become the next prey. The next laughingstock. That's the truth of it."
Diana's expression flickered—pain shadowing her fury. Shaumin pressed on, his voice hoarse.
"I don't care about my own reputation. But my parents'? My father, who serves the Emperor? My mother, who carries our house's name? If I openly defended you, I'd stain them both. So I chose the only way I could see—to push you away, to make you quit Silver Heaven before the nobles crushed you completely."
The room fell heavy with his words. Natasha's gaze softened, though her eyes still carried fire.
"…Shaumin. I'm grateful you thought of us. Truly. But can't you see? By doing this, you weren't protecting us—you were helping them. You were making their work easier."
Her voice tightened, recalling the warning in her mind.
"Yesterday, I spoke with Lady Sakura. I told her about what Rufus and his pals tried with us. And she warned me—scheming nobles are moving in the academy's shadows, working to erase Commoners altogether. By acting like them, you only strengthened their hand."
Shaumin's breath caught. His face fell, pride draining away, shame clouding his eyes. Slowly, his head bowed, shoulders heavy with regret.
"…I see." His voice barely carried.
Diana's sternness wavered, replaced with a quiet sorrow. Her hand, once balled in fury, now rested lightly against her son's shoulder. "Your heart was not wicked, Shaumin. Only… misguided."
Shaun, watching from his cot, let out a slow breath. The weight in his chest eased. So he wasn't the villain after all. Just someone trapped between two worlds, trying to protect in the only way he knew.
Silence stretched, until Shaumin finally lifted his gaze toward them. His voice came low, steady, but sincere.
"…I'm sorry. To you, Shaun. To you, Sabastian. And—" he hesitated before meeting Natasha's eyes, "—to you, especially. For yesterday. I misbehaved because I wanted to provoke you, to drive you off before the nobles struck harder. But I see now how wrong I was."
Shaun's lips curved in the faintest smile. "Then it's done. I accept."
Natasha tilted her head, her voice softer. "If Shaun believes in you, then so do I."
Sabastian swallowed hard, his eyes glistening. "…You don't know how much it means, hearing that. I… accept too."
Natasha gave a short smirk, though her voice was steady. "Then let's call it even. From now on, no more twisted plans. If you want to protect us—just tell us directly, or fight beside us. Not against us."
Shaumin's smirk returned, faint but genuine this time. "…Deal."
Diana watched the four of them, her expression softening into something rare—pride. She let out a long breath, her voice warm yet regal.
"At last… my son has found true companions. Treasure this bond, all of you—for it is worth more than titles or blood."
Outside, the marketplace lanterns flickered as the night deepened, shadows stretching long. None of them knew it yet, but their newly forged bond would soon face its first trial.
**********