POV: Armine
KNOCK.
KNOCK.
KNOCK.
"Jakob, are you in there?" I waited a few seconds. No answer.
I sighed.
It had been weeks since I'd seen him. The opening ceremony was approaching, and all students were supposed to be present…
I was fairly sure he wasn't ready for anything. Jakob was perfectly capable of waiting until the last possible moment and then causing a scandal with the other students.
I don't think he's an attention-seeker just for the sake of it, but I can absolutely see him getting himself into trouble for no reason.
Well. There isn't much I can do these days…
"Lady Kraftvollarm." I looked at who was walking toward me—the maid in charge of the first-year boys' area. "I see your friend still hasn't managed to meet with you."
I couldn't remember her name, but her face was one I'd learned to read quickly.
Her expressionless face did a good job of hiding her emotions, but her amethyst eyes were very expressive.
Maybe it was something only I noticed, but people can never hide their feelings completely.
"I wanted to see if he was alright, and have breakfast together…" The maid's eyes gleamed with curious interest.
"I'm afraid your friend hasn't returned at night either. It seems he's been very busy." Jakob… you're putting everything you have into this too, aren't you?
I pictured him with that determined expression, aiming with his blade.
"...He's that kind of person." Even without any particularly dazzling qualities, he was without a doubt one of the most hardworking people I'd ever seen.
And yet…
Why is he always so frightened?
Not of me. Not of imminent danger, like the rats—but… of everything.
It's as if he knows something I don't…
"If you'd like, I can let your friend know you came looking for him the moment I get the chance to speak with him." I'd gotten lost in my thoughts. The maid seemed well-intentioned…
I'm not sure why I came, really. I could simply ask the guards about Jakob.
The Academy staff were all here now: servants, maids, and professors.
Surely security already knew where that reckless boy was and what he was doing.
"That's fine. That would be a great help." We'd probably run into each other some other time. For now, I should prioritize my studies. "Tell him I need to give him something in person."
The maid nodded, and I managed a smile.
"Understood, Lady Armine."
Soon I wouldn't be able to come to this area to see Jakob. The Academy's rules were quite strict.
Girls and boys weren't allowed into the dormitories of the opposite sex.
And considering the Director wants me to become the student representative, I need to set an example.
"I'll be on my way. Have a good day," I told the maid, my voice slightly apologetic. I truly dislike being a burden to anyone.
"And to you, Lady Armine." She bowed and walked off to inspect the rest of the rooms.
I looked one last time at Jakob's door.
404. The number gleamed on a dark metal plate.
"...Alright. I'd better go deliver my report." I adjusted my glasses for no real reason. I needed to speak with the Director.
I started walking. With the students arriving, it became even more obvious just how many different kinds of people came to Eozän.
It was nice to see the hallways, classrooms, and the entire castle full of life.
I'm not naïve. I know factions have already formed, and there are noble intrigues over power and influence within the Academy.
I felt a little tired. If I become the student representative, I'll have to act as an intermediary in disputes and negotiations.
I paused to look at one of the resting areas: a small plaza with a fountain inside the Academy.
I saw relaxed Giboraddirs. Their animal traits stood out—tails and ears that were fascinating to watch.
It wasn't the first time I'd seen Giboraddirs. A clan of silver wolves lives under my family's protection.
I felt a pang of homesickness and pushed the thought away. Better to distract myself with something else.
What would it be like to have a tail? I imagined having a cat's tail or… a cow's.
I felt embarrassed just thinking it.
"Whoa!"
"She's huge!"
Some students talked about me with all the subtlety of a bull in a china shop.
They seemed like a small group, but quite close—possibly the entourage of some noble.
I smiled at them.
"If you think I'm big, you should see my mother and my sister." I wasn't exaggerating. As the second daughter, I'm constantly reminded that only my younger sisters are smaller than I am.
"They must be quite impressive," said a scarlet-haired Giboraddirs girl with twin ponytails, wolf ears and a matching tail. "It must be hard to be so far from your family—and from an environment suitable for someone of your status."
She must be the leader.
I caught the obvious malice in her comment. That was fast. I felt mildly disappointed and took a closer look at her.
Confident posture, beautiful in a feral way, and her uniform—paradoxically—was impeccably worn.
"I'll adapt." I turned away; she was almost certainly a noble. "You should be careful. Insulting someone's family can have consequences."
I made sure to look at her intensely, my expression serious.
I didn't like the wild smile she gave me.
"I'll keep that in mind." She turned her back to me. I nearly sighed with exhaustion when I saw her amused grin. "Come on, girls."
"Yes, boss!"
"Right away!"
I felt relieved when they disappeared from sight.
Saint Sodchad. The headaches are already starting and the school year hasn't even begun.
I should go to the chapel. It's good to pray for peace of mind—and to avoid falling for childish provocation.
Better to keep moving. God…
"How are things at home right now?"
So much had happened in so little time since I arrived at this Academy. It's strange how everything that's occurred has helped me understand the world better.
I still remember what it was like when I was a child.
…
…
…
Steel was always cold.
Colder than the snowfall that day.
I remember the first time I held it.
I was six.
It was a training dagger, barely as long as my forearm, but in my hands—which were already larger than those of human girls my age—it felt like a fragile toy.
"Firmer, little one."
My father's voice was thunder, echoing through the stone courtyard of our Grímsvötn estate.
My breath turned to white smoke as it left my mouth. The mountains around us were beautiful.
I love this place. Mother says it's because I was born here.
"Dad." I looked up at him. "Can't I use something like your sword?"
To my eyes, there was no warrior more perfect than my father.
A tall, muscular man. To my younger self, no one was more imposing.
"No," he said firmly, arms crossed, face stern.
The most powerful human—the Hero of the war against the six corrupted gods.
"Dad." My hero. I puffed out my cheeks to show my annoyance. "Mean."
He wore an eyepatch over his right eye. The other, the color of a clear sky, looked at me with a complicated mix of emotions.
"Armine," he said, sounding tired of my tantrums. "Listen."
He stepped closer.
His left arm was a state-of-the-art mechanical prosthesis, made especially for him.
He stroked my hair with his good hand. The warmth he gave me made me smile.
He looked at me with his one good eye—severe, but always layered with that worry he had whenever he looked at me.
"Dad?"
"Are you sure you want to learn to fight?" he asked, kneeling to meet my height, his large hand settling on my shoulder with the weight of a mountain. "It won't be easy."
Dad always looks at me like that—worried.
"Yes!" I said eagerly, smiling as I did a small hop. "I want to be like you, Dad."
The expression he made then looked almost like fear.
"Armine…" His voice became very quiet.
"Dad?" I took his hand.
"The giants will expect you to be a legend—perfect, like your mother," he said, his voice serious. "A savior, even. And humans too—no, they'll demand even more from you."
I understood.
I nodded, gripping the dagger's handle until my knuckles went white.
"Yes, Father."
The look he gave me made me throw my arms around him.
"Oh, my little one." He returned the hug gently.
I closed my eyes to feel his warmth more clearly.
We stayed like that until a melodic laugh snapped us out of it.
I opened my eyes and couldn't help smiling.
A shadow covered Dad and me. I looked up.
A beautiful face with golden eyes, framed by long, silky pink hair.
At six meters tall, she looked down at us with a joyful expression.
"My sweet girl." The Queen of the giants, descendant of Sodchad—the father of the entire race, and the God of Fortitude. "Let her breathe, dear. She's only six."
It was a soft scolding, delivered with mock severity.
My father grunted, then smiled a moment later.
They're always like this.
This is my world. A place full of love.
And these are my parents…
My father is Götz Dunkelklinge: the Human Who Defied the Abyss.
There were songs about him everywhere.
I'd seen children playing at being him with wooden sticks.
Whenever veteran soldiers came to the castle, they lowered their gaze in his presence.
Their respect for my father was surpassed only by their loyalty to my mother.
I understand why.
But to me, he was the man who carried me on his shoulders, letting me touch the scars on his face while he told stories that always ended with: "And then your father ran very fast in the opposite direction."
"You ran, Dad?" I would ask, confused. "But heroes don't run."
He laughed—rough and broken, as if it cost him effort.
"Dead heroes don't run, little one. Living ones do. Always run if you can. Fight only when there's no other choice." He always seemed to be staring at something far away when he said it. "Neither your mother nor I want to lose you."
Those words…
The way he stared toward the horizon, as if expecting something terrible to rise from the shadows, made me wait for something too.
…
…
…
"Dad," I remember asking when I was ten.
We were in the Royal Armory inside a volcano. It was time for my weapon to be forged.
One of the giant smiths was sharpening my father's sword.
The sight of adult giants begging for the honor of sharpening the legendary *Leviathan-Slayer* made me laugh.
In the end, to stop them from pestering him, he handed it to the most talented of them.
The sound of metal against stone filled the air in a hypnotic rhythm.
"Tell me." My father examined a double-headed axe carefully before looking at me with interest.
"Why did you marry Mom? She's a giant. You're human." I'd seen many giant families, some human ones—but families like mine were rare…
He stopped looking at the axe. He looked at me with his one eye, and a smile touched his lips.
"Because I love her."
In the distance, my ears caught a strange shriek coming from the castle. I blinked when I realized where it was coming from.
I decided to ignore it.
"...And why do you love her?" He kept smiling.
"Because she saw me," he said simply. "Not what others said or believed—what I truly am."
I was too young to understand then.
I swallowed.
"And you? What did you see in her?"
"Without question, the best woman in the world," Dad said, his voice full of adoration. "And the only one who can knock me out with a single punch."
His smile was strangely happy.
…
…
…
What my father said made me ask my mother the same question.
I was still ten, and still didn't understand the world around me.
Sigrun Kraftvollarm—Queen, and heir to the strength and endurance of the God of Giants.
The Iron Lady. The Queen Who Shatters Storms.
A figure no less mythical than her husband.
She was truly the power that held the entire giant race together, and the only one who could command them all.
She was in her private office, signing documents.
"Your father needed a beating and a proper rest," she said with an amused smile. "That—and a hug, then a kiss, and after that… well, let's just say your older sister didn't take long to appear."
Her laughter confused me.
"Is that true?" I'd always had a way of knowing when someone was lying.
Mom was telling the truth—but for some reason, I didn't think it was the whole truth.
She laughed again.
"Good. You're getting better," she said as she kept signing. "What I saw in your father was a hero who saved everyone, but… who was going to save him?"
I frowned.
"But Dad is the strongest," I said, confused. "Why would he need someone to save him?"
"Strength without purpose is destruction, Armine," she told me, signing. Her hands were enormous—strong enough to crush stone—yet they moved with impossible delicacy. "Any beast can destroy. Only the wise can build."
"But Dad destroys things," I said, still confused. "He destroys the bad guys."
My mother laughed, musical and bright.
"Your father destroys what threatens what he's built. There's a difference, my love. Destroying to protect is not the same as destroying for pleasure."
I looked at her—so beautiful it was sometimes hard to believe we shared blood.
Her pink hair shone with an almost ethereal brightness. Her eyes were gold like mine, but hers carried an ancient wisdom that seemed to span centuries.
Despite her size, every movement she made was pure grace, as if the air itself moved aside out of respect.
"Mom," I whispered. "Did you and Dad fight in the last war against the invading gods?"
She stopped signing. Her eyes met mine in the reflection, and I saw something I hadn't expected: remembrance.
"Yes."
"Do you think about it?"
"Every day, little one."
"Really?"
"Really." She sighed, setting her brush on the desk. "Those were dark, difficult years. I spent years without rest, without a warm place—only battlefields."
I felt strange hearing that.
"And how did you endure it?"
My mother turned me so I faced her directly. Her huge hands held my face with a gentleness that contradicted everything her body represented.
"I built my own place, Armine. With your father. With you. With those who chose to love me for who I am, not for what I represented to their politics or their fears."
Tears gathered in my eyes.
She smiled—and in that smile were centuries of wisdom, pain, and hope braided together.
My family is wonderful…
…
…
…
But there was still someone else who would give me wisdom.
It was when I was twelve, after I'd been presented to the leaders of the giant clans.
The amber-and-gold banquet hall dated back to the era of the God of Giants—the close friend of the King of Souls.
It sat at the literal center of a mountain, large enough to hold every clan leader at once.
The leaders were impressive, and easy to read.
They didn't look at me as a curiosity or an aberration, but as a princess. In their eyes there was recognition—and expectation.
My father was right.
They expect a great deal from me.
But…
It didn't compare to the way they looked at the heir to the throne.
Elaine. My older sister.
She'd inherited all of our mother's majesty: three meters tall, black hair falling like a dark waterfall, golden eyes that seemed to see through everything.
Perfect.
That was the only word in my mind—and from the way the others looked at her, they thought so too.
I knew it, and she did as well.
"Keep up the act, dears," our mother said gently. Her pregnancy belly didn't diminish the beauty of her white dress, and my father at her side looked immaculate in his black suit. "Don't be nervous, Armine. If you're unsure, imitate your sister in everything."
I nodded. It was going to be a busy night.
"Armine," my sister asked after the meeting ended, "do you find politics boring?"
We were in her room. She was brushing my hair with delicate care.
"A little…" I admitted honestly, and she laughed. "Is that bad?"
"No." I looked at her, surprised. Elaine stuck her tongue out playfully. "To be honest, I find it terribly boring."
"Huh?" I stared at her, disbelieving. She laughed again.
"You have freedom," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "You can laugh without anyone analyzing whether your laughter is 'appropriate for a princess.' You can dance without every step being judged for political implications. You can… you can simply be you."
My sister sounded sad. That surprised me.
"But you'll be Queen," I said. "You'll be like Mom."
Elaine laughed, but there was no joy in it.
"That's impossible, little sister. Mom is more like you—and I'm more like Dad." She looked at me, and her golden eyes held something like sorrow. "We're all born with a role to fulfill. Mine is duty."
"I…" I didn't know what to think. "I love you, Sister."
I hugged her.
She hugged me back.
"I love you too, Armine," Elaine said, her voice full of emotion. "I'm glad you're free."
I didn't understand her words then.
Now, years later, I was beginning to…
…
…
…
Oddly enough, even the youngest had something to teach me.
I was seventeen, and rumors swirled around me.
Some called me the best warrior among the clans—mainly because I'd defeated the heirs of each clan after their attempts at courtship.
It didn't help that I spent so much time training with the sword and strengthening my body.
And maybe, just maybe, because I'd managed to disarm my father… even I could hardly believe that.
Lately, people had started calling me the *Iron Maiden*.
How embarrassing. Every time I thought of that title, my cheeks burned.
"Armi!"
"Mirne!"
In the middle of my training with a practice dummy, two little girls ran up to me.
Lyra and Freya—the twins.
The youngest in the family. They took after our human side more than our giant blood.
They were barely a meter seventy, with pink hair—curly like Dad's—and bright blue eyes full of innocence.
They loved silk dresses, court dances, heroic (and softened) stories about our father, and sweets.
They could spend hours debating the perfect jam flavor.
"Armi," Lyra called, on a sunny afternoon. Sweat soaked my training clothes. "Why are you always sweaty? It's gross."
"Because I want to be strong," I replied, bending to pat their heads.
"But you're already strong," Freya protested, holding a slice of apple pie in her right hand. "What more for? You could already beat any stupid suitor who comes near."
I looked at them. Two beautiful girls—clearly made to be princesses and nobles.
They hadn't started their training yet.
It took me a while, but I realized I wasn't made only to fight…
"Because one day," I said, straightening up, "I want to be ready to protect you."
The twins exchanged a look I couldn't decipher.
"You're weird, Armi," Lyra said, but her voice was softer than usual. She always carried her stuffed rabbit.
"But we love you anyway," Freya finished with a genuine smile before devouring her pie in a single bite. "Even when you smell like sweat and iron."
"Nyoh!" I waved my wooden sword in indignation. "How dare you disrespect your older sister like that!?"
They laughed, and we spent the rest of the day playing tag.
That night, after a long day of politics, I found them waiting in my room.
They'd brought cakes stolen from the kitchen and a bottle of fruit juice.
"We heard Lord Pretentious called you an axe," Lyra said, offering me a cake.
Lord Pretentious was the son of Lord—
"'Your beauty is like a battle-axe—sharp, but lovely,'" Freya recited, doing a terrible imitation of my latest suitor. "Why an axe?"
I laughed so hard I nearly choked on the cake.
"At least the one before him compared me to a mountain," I said between laughs. "That made more sense."
"Men are weird," Lyra declared with the authority of someone delivering an irrefutable scientific conclusion.
"Completely," Freya agreed.
We spent the night laughing at failed suitors, inventing increasingly absurd poems about my "catapult beauty" and my "battering-ram grace."
Those nights were worth more than any title or praise.
…
…
…
Giant society.
The giants adored me.
That isn't arrogance. It's a fact I learned to accept over time—even though it never stopped making me uncomfortable.
As the second daughter of their Queen, I was living proof that their race could mix with humans without losing its ancestral strength.
I was the hope of a new generation—the bridge between two worlds.
When we visited the northern clans, giant warriors treated me with respect.
The elderly blessed me with songs in ancient languages.
Giant children stared at me with wide, admiring eyes.
It was overwhelming.
"Don't let it drown you, little one," my father warned me one night, after a particularly long banquet where I'd had to smile for six straight hours until my cheeks hurt. "Adoration is a strange kind of recognition. Deep down, it only shows how much they hope from you."
"How do you know?" I asked, exhausted to the bone.
He laughed, a sound I knew too well.
"Because I was the 'Hero of Humanity' for thirty years, Armine." Dad only ever told us the parts that sounded cool—he probably had plenty of dull stories too. "So many false smiles and empty speeches, and people expecting me to save the world every time the sun came up. And all I ever wanted was to sleep a full night without someone expecting miracles when I woke."
I fell silent, turning his words over in my mind.
"Is it different now?" I mean, he's prince consort. He still has to smile and listen to stupid speeches, doesn't he?
"It's much better," my father said, looking toward my mother as she read by the fireplace, his expression soft. "Now the company is at least worth enjoying."
I couldn't help feeling curious.
What is it like to live among humans?
…
…
…
One morning, I decided I wanted to see humans up close.
I asked my mother for permission, and she let me take a train to the nearest human town.
The trip was pleasant. The scenery sliding past the windows made me love my homeland even more.
Curiously, among the humans there, no one looked at me as if I were different.
My relationship with humans is complicated.
They respected me. That was undeniable. I was the daughter of the greatest hero of this age.
My father had saved entire cities, defeated gods who haunted children's nightmares, stopped plots that could have destabilized nations—saved too many lives for anyone to dare disrespect him.
His blood ran through my veins, giving me a status no other title could match.
And yet among these people, some saw only a girl a bit taller than usual…
"Good morning, miss," said an old woman with a bread basket, a child trailing close behind her. "May the King of Souls bless you."
I smiled warmly.
"Thank you very much." It was a kind gesture.
I walked around the plaza and the market.
Some boys stared more than I would have liked.
But others watched me with suspicion.
After a while I noticed the split in reactions.
Some people didn't seem to care about my height at all. Children waved. Adults seemed to see me as a normal seventeen-year-old girl.
But…
Others looked away when I passed through the market. They were cautious with their words and actions.
Some human children ran to hide behind their mothers when I approached.
"She's enormous." I'm perfectly normal…
"Did you see her hands? She could crush us like insects without noticing." That isn't true.
"She must have the strength of ten men. Or twenty." Well. That part is true.
"It's unnatural. Half beast, half human. A mistake of nature."
My blood boiled. Who dared insult my giant blood?
"Who said that?!"
Of course, no one showed their face.
I let out a growl.
If you're going to insult me, at least have the courage to do it to my face…
"They aren't worth it," I muttered, and left town.
Not long after, my father found me watching swans drifting across a lake.
He sat beside me in silence. For a long time he said nothing—only rested his heavy hand on my head, steady and comforting.
"Their opinions are only words, and words pass," he said, his voice weighed down by experience. "They'll fear you. They'll call you a monster. And there's nothing you can do to stop it, because their fear has nothing to do with you. It has to do with them."
"Then what do I do?" I asked, watching the swans gather.
"You save them anyway."
I looked at him, confused and hurt.
"Why would I save people who fear me?" He met my gaze.
My father sighed. In his eyes were decades of pain, wisdom, and unbreakable resolve.
"Because fear is born of ignorance. And every time you save them—every time you use your strength to protect them—you become better than what they expect," he said with a gentle smile. "You teach them they're wrong. Not with words, which are cheap and easy to ignore, but with actions, which are undeniable."
"And if they never learn?"
He smiled, looking slightly resigned.
"Then at least you'll sleep in peace knowing you did the right thing. And believe me, Armine… that's worth more than any applause."
…
…
…
The admirers.
They arrived when I turned fifteen, like a plague of perfumed locusts.
Young nobles from lesser houses, brought by ambitious parents who saw in me an unbeatable military alliance.
Sons of dukes who needed my father's political support.
Heirs to fortunes who wanted to show off a wife who could split an army in half.
They brought me exotic flowers that looked ridiculous in my large hands.
They recited elaborate poems about "untamed beauty" and "roses of steel" and "earthly goddesses," all while glancing sideways at me with obvious nervousness.
None of them looked me in the eyes.
They looked at my mother's symbol.
They looked at my father's legend.
They looked at a war trophy they wanted to hang on their wall and boast about—if they had the courage to come close enough to claim me.
"Lady Armine," one of them told me—a young count with slicked-back hair and a smile practiced in mirrors—"your beauty is comparable to that of the goddesses of ancient legend."
I wanted to ask if he'd ever seen a goddess in person, but I restrained myself.
I almost said that giant warrior women were the embodiment of war and death, not porcelain dolls to display in salons.
But I smiled. The perfect smile. The diplomatic smile my mother had taught me.
"You are very kind, my lord."
That night, after all the suitors left with their wilted flowers and intact hopes, I found Elaine waiting in my room.
"They're pathetic," she said without preamble, sitting on my bed with the grace of a queen resting between audiences. "They don't deserve you, Armi. None of them."
"I know," I whispered, removing the jewelry they'd forced me to wear. It was too heavy… "But I can't openly reject them all. Political duty…"
"To hell with political duty."
I stared at her, surprised. Elaine—the perfect heir—had let something of our father show through.
I couldn't help laughing.
She sighed, and for a moment I saw my older sister—not the future Queen of Giants, but a girl exhausted from pretending.
"Listen, Armine. I will have to marry for alliance. It's my fate as the firstborn. I accept it, even if I don't like it." Her golden eyes met mine with fierce intensity. "But you… you have a chance I'll never have. Dad won't force you to marry someone you don't love. Mom won't either. So don't settle for these perfumed idiots."
"And if I never find anyone who sees me as… as a normal girl?" Among the giants no one has beaten me, so courtships fail—and among humans…
Elaine smiled, and in that smile was some of the twins' mischief.
"Then you'll be the most feared spinster on the entire continent, with a sword bigger than most men. And honestly, little sister, that sounds pretty good."
I laughed—truly laughed—until my stomach hurt.
…
…
…
I was eighteen when I enrolled at Eozän Academy, and I quickly realized I was far above the expected level.
No surprise. My father's training is legendary at the very least. Physically, I had nothing to worry about.
So I set myself the task of becoming the best academically.
Two weeks hadn't passed before the Director asked to meet me.
The room was enormous—even for a half-giant like me—gray stone floors, black walls, and circular windows directly behind the Director's imposing desk.
The office smelled of ancient books, fine green tea, and something subtler—medicinal.
In fact, a stove was lit, and its warmth carried a pleasant scent.
The man before me was a mystery wrapped in kindness.
"Ahh, Princess Armine." His voice was pleasant, almost paternal. "It is a true pleasure to have you at my humble Academy."
I nearly snorted. Calling this place "humble," when it was built by the Creator God himself, felt almost blasphemous—but I suppose he was being considerate to the descendant of another god.
"The pleasure is mine, Director." I offered my best practiced smile and studied him carefully.
Long white hair fell like a snowfall over his narrow shoulders.
"Would you like some tea?" His face was kind, but slightly drawn. "It's the finest quality, brought directly from Zhongguo—"
A harsh cough cut him off. He was forced to raise an embroidered handkerchief to his mouth.
My father had told me never to underestimate anyone, no matter how fragile they seemed.
"Director," I said slowly. It was obvious he wasn't lying; the traces of blood on the cloth made that clear.
He lifted his free hand, stopping whatever I might have done.
"It's alright," he said after recovering. He wiped away the blood and smiled tiredly. "They are symptoms I've learned to live with."
Director John Hawkwood didn't radiate power aggressively like the warriors I knew.
"It must be difficult," I said, without pity.
He didn't need it.
"Not really."
It was like sitting before a snow-capped mountain: imposing not because of what it did, but because of what it was. His mere presence filled the room with a calm that contradicted the fragility of his body.
"You called me here because of some problem, Director?" I knew it wasn't, but let's play politics. I heard him chuckle as he moved toward a porcelain teapot.
"You have an immaculate record, Armine," he said, pouring tea with slow, elegant movements, though his hands trembled slightly. He coughed softly before continuing. "You are the natural candidate for student representative once the year begins. You are the perfect example of strength and diplomacy."
I remained upright, hands clasped behind my back, my uniform perfectly pressed.
"Your words honor me, Director." I was surprised they sounded sincere.
"Don't be. Being praised by me is a headache," he said with a nod, offering a fine porcelain cup which I accepted with extreme care, so as not to crush it in my fingers. "I'm afraid I must entrust you with a special task…"
He seemed to hesitate. From the shadows emerged a woman wearing a golden monocle and a large black wizard's hat.
"…" Her presence was deeply uncomfortable—unnatural, even. Not just because she was obviously a mage, but because of the emotionless stare she carried.
"A special task, sir?" I focused on the Director, who didn't look particularly comfortable with her presence either.
"…Recently, there has been movement in the stars, as though the heavens were warning us, or—"
"We need you to maintain constant vigilance throughout the school," the woman cut in. "Something could endanger the safety of all students if we are not careful."
…What?
"Excuse me," I said, turning to the woman with a tightly controlled voice. "What are you talking about?"
She didn't even look at me; her eyes remained fixed straight ahead.
"On the horizon, the White Star has appeared."
What?
"I'm afraid it's true," the Director said. I watched him—his face was serious, his gaze determined. "I cannot give you details, for your own safety, but it's possible there is already a hostile individual within the Academy."
…This sounds complicated, but…
"There are only a few people in the castle." That narrowed the list of suspects. "It shouldn't be hard to find them."
"It's not that simple," the woman said without looking at me, her head tilted upward as though focused on something no one else could see. "I don't know—nor do I understand—the origin of this possible anomaly. Perhaps if I saw it face to face I could identify it, but I don't even know what form it will take."
I looked to the Director. He was thinking hard; his eyes showed it.
"For now," he said, meeting my gaze, "we have informed all present staff. It's important not to give the anomaly any indication that we know it is here."
I nodded, glanced at the woman still staring at the ceiling, then refocused on the Director.
"Where would you like me to start?" I can't carry weapons—too much attention. I'll have to rely on my fists…
Don't smile. Don't smile.
"Make a circuit of the entire Academy. Leave the forest to Father Edward and Zofia, who is here with us." She didn't look very "here," but I didn't comment. "She will search places like the drainage system and the classrooms."
I nodded again.
The orders were clear and concise, but…
"Director." I needed an answer. "What should I do with the anomaly if I find it?"
Suddenly, the air in the room turned cold.
"If you see it is too much even for you, go quickly to Lady Zofia or to me," the Director said, his tone cold—almost mechanical. "If you believe you can handle it… destroy it."
I couldn't stop myself from smiling. My father's blood felt very present in me in that moment.
I wanted to fight.
"Understood." I gave the Director a slight bow—mostly to hide my face—then quickly turned to begin the search. "I'll start right away. I'll bring you either a report, or the anomaly's corpse."
"If possible," the mage added in a hollow voice, "try not to damage the specimen too much. I'm interested in conducting experiments on its body."
I'm not sure that will be possible, but I can try.
"Understood."
I left the office with my objective clear—and a hunger in my heart.
Let's hope this creature isn't boring.
…
…
…
First I went to the girls' section. With so few people around, it was easy to inspect the area.
Besides me, there were only two other students. One was a minor noble named Floga—apparently from Erdeder Gnade.
She didn't seem like much: the typical fourth or fifth daughter sent off to find a husband or a reasonably decent position in government.
She was sitting on a red sofa, reading a book, looking perfectly at ease.
"Excuse me."
"Hy—hee!" she squeaked.
Why is she getting nervous? I literally walked straight up to her, and we're the only ones here…
I sighed. She was trembling just from looking at me. I couldn't tell whether it was because I'm a princess, or because I'm half-giant.
"Don't be scared," I said in the affectionate, patient tone I used with the twins. "Have you seen Jaga?"
My tone worked. The girl stopped shaking. Honestly, it was a blessing that my "big sister voice" still did the trick.
"N-no." For emphasis, Floga shook her head. "I think she went out for a walk very early."
Internally, I sighed. Jaga Dolha-Strigoi—the Imperial Princess of Solomonara, Duchess of Gorgomana, and possibly the most troublesome student this year.
"Thank you," I told Floga with a smile. Then I turned away, my mind set on finding the anomaly. "If anything happens that seems strange to you, tell me."
"Y-yes."
Good. Time to move on.
…
…
…
The boys' section was practically empty as well. The few students there only glanced at me out of the corner of their eyes before looking away—probably intimidated.
I passed by the infirmary, the banquet hall, and the locked classrooms, but nothing.
No trace of that supposed anomaly.
"Maybe this is a test…" I'm a candidate for student representative; this could be a test to see how I behave in delicate situations. "…No. It can't be only that."
Maybe it was a political maneuver—seeing whether I'd use the influence of my title as a princess, or my strength, to persuade others.
The Director is known for being a talented politician. He never does anything without a reason.
Well.
*BOING.*
"Nyoh?" Something had collided with my chest.
I looked down. On the floor was a skinny boy with white hair, striking red eyes, and a delicate build.
He was pretty cute—honestly, he could be mistaken for a girl.
And he looked so nervous. So scared.
I stared into his eyes. Too much was happening behind them.
He… was on the edge…
"Oh, wow. What are you doing down there, buddy?"
…
…
…
I came back to myself.
I was standing in front of the Director's office. I must have walked here without paying attention.
I took a breath and let it out in a heavy exhale.
"You can come in, Armine." It didn't surprise me that he knew I was outside without even seeing me.
"Excuse me."
I found the Director signing documents. A rather large stack of papers sat to one side, along with his personal seal.
Here again—months later, and with nothing to show for it.
"Are you very busy, Director?" To my surprise, he stopped writing and looked at me with a friendly smile.
"For my students?" He rose from his chair and walked to the teapot. With smooth, elegant movements, he poured two cups of tea. "Never."
Smiling, he offered me one of the cups.
"Thank you," I said, lifting it to my nose to enjoy the aroma. It was pleasant. "I haven't had any success with the task you assigned me."
Better to cut the pretenses.
Contrary to my expectations, the Director laughed, genuinely amused.
"Oh, Armine," he said in a tone that reminded me of my father when he wanted to teach me something gently. "You shouldn't worry about that. Zofia already dealt with the anomaly."
"Thank God," I said, relieved. The danger had been neutralized—though it was a little disappointing. I'd been hoping to fight that thing.
"Thank God indeed." There was something cryptic in the Director's tone. I noticed how his gaze sharpened, focused and serious—almost predatory. "How is your friend, Armine?"
He turned away, giving me his back as he looked out the large window onto the Academy's central courtyard.
Over these months—along with my reports about the search—I'd ended up talking about Jakob with the Director.
I couldn't help it. He was the first person I'd trained, and his progress was something I was proud of.
"I haven't seen him in a few weeks," I said, watching the cinnamon-colored liquid in my cup. "But I'm sure he's pushing himself to the limit."
I took a sip.
"I see," the Director said absently, still facing the window. "He's quite an interesting change, wouldn't you say?"
"What do you mean?" For some reason, the way he said it made my skin crawl.
"Before he met you, Jakob was… well, let's just say he wasn't exactly the ideal young noble." The way he put it made me unusually uncomfortable. "His behavior had been erratic from very early on."
For some reason, hearing him talk about Jakob like that left a bitter taste in my mouth.
"Jakob isn't brave—far from it. He always seems afraid," I began calmly. "He's very weak—so much so it's painful to watch. He says too many stupid things and doesn't think before acting."
Honestly, he can be incredibly irritating when he wants to be.
"…Is that so?" The Director's surprised, expectant voice made me feel slightly frustrated. "That doesn't sound like the Jakob described in his family's letter."
I don't care what that letter—or his family—says.
"But he tries harder than anyone. Even when he's exhausted and on the verge of collapse, he keeps going—even when he's scared and knows he's weak." He isn't an heir. He isn't a noble who needs to maintain an image. He doesn't even seem interested in becoming strong out of revenge. "His effort deserves recognition."
He's my student. I'm proud of him for how hard he works.
He's my friend. I want him to reach his goal—even if I don't know what it is.
His face flashed through my mind, right after the battle with that mutated rat.
He has a nice smile.
My heart gave a sudden jump. I remembered how I'd hugged him—when I realized he'd won without my help, and when he recovered.
I…
"I completely agree," the Director said. I'd been so distracted I missed the moment he turned back toward me, wearing a paternal smile. "Honestly, I'm glad to hear young Liedschlag is progressing as a person. His grandfather will be relieved."
Right…
"I haven't been able to give him his letter," I admitted, feeling slightly ashamed. It was as if the earth had swallowed Jakob whole. "It seems he's training with someone who's an expert with firearms."
"It's forbidden for first-years to have firearms…" The Director looked genuinely perplexed, unsure how to take that information. "We'll ignore that detail for the moment."
He gave me a thumbs-up.
I stared at him.
Is it really fine to leave the safety and education of so many important people in the hands of a man this carefree?
"Seriously?" I couldn't help asking, my voice flat.
"Young Liedschlag dealt with a potential threat to the school, and he also makes a daily contribution from his hunting," the Director said. I could see him trying to justify it while sweating profusely. "As a reward for his services, I'll grant him special permission to carry his weapon."
The Director struck a ridiculous pose and then laughed like a madman.
Blessed Sodchad…
"I'm going to check the club classrooms," I said seriously, trying not to get dragged into this man's absurdity. "The last students should be arriving soon, and I want to see if everything is in order."
"Of course—certainly," the Director said, forcing seriousness as he returned to his seat. "But Armine, let me give you some advice."
The atmosphere around him shifted, turning solemn.
"Sir?"
"Even if you're not sure how, keep supporting Jakob." The Director's smile was warm. "The ability to create bonds between people is the key to a bright future."
Mm… He has uncommon wisdom.
I smiled. He truly is a good person.
…
…
…
Eozän is a multifaceted institution. In broad terms, it gathers the future—and the very best of the present generation—so that relationships can form and shape the world's path forward.
That's why it isn't only nobles who attend this Academy: promising artists, heirs to merchant firms, bourgeois families, and talented commoners.
Everyone is welcome.
And that's why—besides standard curriculum classes like Political Science, Economics, and everything related to defense and war—there's also room for artists and craftsmen.
That's why clubs exist: metallurgy, smithing, research.
There's something beautiful about people being able to come together over music, painting, or any kind of art.
That said…
"You're not supposed to be using the instruments yet," I told a group of students gathered around a classroom with a white door. "No matter how good it sounds."
The music coming from a piano was captivating. I hadn't heard that piece before—and as a princess, that's saying something.
Whoever wrote it has considerable talent.
"We're sorry, Lady Armine," said a student with messy gray hair and intense orange eyes. "But that impulsive noble insisted on playing."
I sighed. Not a single moment of peace. I honestly hope more candidates for student representative show up soon.
This is a pain in the ass.
"Let me through." The group parted to make room. I crossed the large room and went all the way to the back, where the piano stood. "Excuse—"
My voice died.
Afternoon light poured through the tall windows of the music room, bathing the dust motes suspended in the air.
The hall was nearly empty—only a few stacked chairs, some music stands, and at the back, the grand black piano.
The player's fingers danced over the keys. His eyes were closed as he shaped the melody.
He moved his head slightly, humming along.
He looked entranced.
The sunlight gave him an ethereal, almost mystical aura.
Now I understood why no one had stopped him.
I was captivated. The song—and his expression—seemed to radiate melancholy and loneliness.
I closed my eyes to listen better. I stayed that way until the last note hung in the air, then slowly unraveled.
No one spoke.
I opened my eyes.
…He was still there, eyes closed, looking pained, sad, and faintly frightened.
He was always frightened.
A dull ache spread through my chest.
I didn't say anything. I just watched him—watched him let out a breath and open his eyes.
Our gazes met almost instantly.
It felt like time stopped.
I noticed the changes in him: more developed muscles; a posture that no longer belonged to someone always ready to run.
But there was something else too—fatigue around his eyes, and a faint coldness in his gaze.
He looked more… I couldn't quite put it into words.
At least, not in a way that wouldn't make my cheeks feel hot.
Jakob stared at me for a second that felt endless. Then, as if he suddenly remembered who he was supposed to be, he dipped his head slightly and smiled to one side.
That crooked, tired smile he always wore when he was about to say something stupid.
"Well," he said lightly, in a tone that didn't match what he'd just played at all, "this is kind of embarrassing."
"…What do you mean?" I walked toward him, my expression faintly annoyed.
I could feel all the students' eyes on us, but I didn't care.
I stopped in front of the piano, crossed my arms, and studied him.
Jakob lifted his chin a little more to look up at me. His smile turned nervous.
Good.
He knew he was in trouble.
He was going to do something stupid any second now.
I watched him glance toward the other students as if begging for help.
I almost laughed. You're far too obvious, Jakob.
Up close, the change in him was even clearer.
I clenched my jaw. I needed to look stern.
"The opening ceremony is approaching." I'm happy to see you, but something tells me you're not ready. "Do you have your uniform ready for the ceremony?"
Jakob's smile faltered. His expression shifted into deep thought.
He must be monologuing internally again…
"Yeah, well…" he began, voice nervous. Nice try, Jakob. I'm an older sister. I know when someone is stalling.
"Don't finish that sentence," I cut him off.
He snapped his mouth shut and took the reprimand with surprising obedience.
Good. He still remembered what kind of teacher I am.
I heard one of the students behind me swallow hard.
Blessed Sodchad…
Jakob and I needed privacy. I turned around with a pleasant smile.
"Would you be so kind as to give me a moment alone with my friend?"
There was a small stir.
"But—ah, we wanted to talk to him," one of the boys said. "He's really good. Maybe he could play with us during the ceremony."
"That's a wonderful idea." It does sound perfect. Honestly, Jakob should consider an artistic career—then he wouldn't be in constant danger. "Don't you think it's a great idea, Jakob?"
I looked at him. His red eyes were intense—but without the excitement you'd expect in that situation.
"I'm sorry," Jakob said seriously, "but I'm not interested."
"What?" I stared at him. It was a golden opportunity.
Playing at the opening ceremony guaranteed recognition from the most important heirs in the world—recognition that could turn into investment.
I remembered what the Director had told me about Jakob and his family.
"The Liedschlags are in decline," the Director had said on a rainy afternoon, smiling faintly. "Jakob is a product of it. Angry, reckless, and deeply cruel."
I don't believe that.
I sighed inwardly. This was a chance to correct that view.
"I think you should accept the offer, Jakob." I used my older-sister's voice. The look he gave me made me shiver a little. "It's a great chance to meet more people and show your talent."
Surprise flickered in Jakob's eyes. He seemed to consider it for a few seconds, then nodded.
"You make a good point." Jakob sometimes seemed oblivious to where he stood—like he'd grown up without a noble's instinct for self-preservation. "Do you need me to play something specific for the ceremony?"
The orange-eyed boy stepped forward, face serious. I didn't like how he seemed to measure Jakob with his gaze.
"Liedschlag," he began, voice almost disdainful, "where the hell did you learn to play that song?"
His tone made me clench my right fist, but Jakob only sighed and seemed to search for the right words.
"You could say that…" Jakob's smile was a blend of superiority and faint malice. "I'm the first person in this world to play that song."
Frustration rose in me. Jakob did that often—he would tell the truth, but layered with something else.
"Hm." The orange-eyed boy thought for a moment. "Fine. I don't care where it came from—only that you can play it when we need it."
Pragmatic.
"Very pragmatic of you," Jakob said, voicing my thoughts. His face looked strangely amused. "Alright. You can count on me. I just hope my performance won't disappoint you."
There was a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
"Good." I turned to Jakob with a smile. "I think you're very good at the piano."
I meant it. Jakob's face turned red; he looked away.
"I…" He hesitated.
"You can do it," I encouraged, smiling. "You can, Jakob. I believe in you."
I truly did.
Jakob stared at me, incredulous, for a few seconds—then closed his eyes and smiled.
"You're simply wonderful, Armine…"
He said it under his breath, but my giant hearing caught every word.
Butterflies burst in my stomach.
"Alright." He opened his eyes and looked at the orange-eyed boy. "You must be the leader of this band. I'm at your service."
"Sure." The boy's grin was playful. "Your girlfriend seems to know how to keep you in line."
Nyoh? Heat rushed to my cheeks. Jakob let out a strange laugh and looked away.
"We don't have that kind of relationship," Jakob said with unsettling calm. "She's my friend."
Is it normal that the ease of his tone left me… disappointed?
"You could've fooled us," the student said, amused. "Name's Amadeus. Pleasure."
"I doubt it." There it was again—Jakob's maddening ambivalence. "Jakob."
He extended his hand.
We were all nobles; there were protocols to follow. Jakob was breaking them.
"…You're interesting," Amadeus said, turning away without taking Jakob's hand. "The ceremony is soon. I'll send someone for you when we need you."
And with that, he and his entourage left the room.
The door closed behind the last of them, and silence fell again—more intimate, and more dangerous than before.
For some reason, I was nervous.
Because there was nothing left to distract me from him.
From Jakob.
I swallowed.
"Did you finish your training?" was the only thing I could think to ask.
"Something like that," he said, not sounding very sure. "But for now, I'm free."
A small ache tightened in my chest. I had to say it.
"I was worried," I said, meeting his eyes. He looked away.
"I know," he replied softly.
What?
"You know?" I didn't understand.
Jakob glanced down at the piano keys.
"The dorm supervisor told me."
Then why—
"And even so, you didn't come see me." Why did I feel so betrayed?
He let out a short, empty laugh.
"I didn't really know how."
I frowned. What kind of stupid reason is that?
"What do you mean you didn't know how?" I asked, harsher than I intended. "Jakob, you weren't hiding from a prefect or running from a punishment. I just…"
I stopped.
I just wanted to see you.
I didn't say it.
I couldn't.
Jakob looked up again. His red eyes seemed brighter in the light.
"I know," he repeated.
The way he said it knotted my throat.
Too gentle.
Too tired.
The way he looked at me made me feel conflicted—happy to see me, and at the same time afraid he might hurt me.
I stepped closer.
"You're an idiot," I said honestly. I rarely understood what went through his head. "Still… I'm happy to see you."
I smiled, and he seemed to relax a little.
"I'm happy to see you too."
We looked at each other, fondly.
…Without realizing it, I walked until I was only inches from him.
I felt embarrassed when I noticed how quickly I'd closed the distance.
"I didn't know you could play like that," I said, trying to change the subject.
Jakob glanced at the keys and gave a halfhearted smile.
"I didn't know if I could either."
It didn't make sense—and yet, I understood the feeling.
Jakob probably never had the freedom to let himself go like that at home. This might be one of the first times anyone had praised him for his talents.
"What were you playing?" I asked. Of course, I knew he'd avoided telling Amadeus the origin for personal reasons, but I believed I had the right to know. "Don't give me a stupid excuse."
Jakob took a few seconds before answering.
"A song from… very far away."
"Really?" It was irritating how he always tried to create distance—even after everything, he still ran from…
"It's complicated." Jakob looked me in the eyes, nervous. "I'm not the creator, but I'm the only one who knows how to play it right now."
I narrowed my eyes. He wasn't lying.
But parts of that sentence didn't fit.
Things that made me think of all the strange silences he carried, all the times he diverted a conversation at the last second.
But I wouldn't press him—for now.
"It's a beautiful song," I said honestly.
Jakob gave a small laugh—without joy.
"It's sad."
"The two aren't mutually exclusive."
He lifted his head slowly.
His eyes locked onto mine.
Heat rose up my neck.
Why is it that when he looks at me like that, I feel like I say too much?
"I'll find a happy song for you," he said, gaze determined. "I don't like you hearing sad things."
Huh?
"And what exactly does that mean?" I smiled, amused. The way he said it reminded me of home.
"It means I want you to hear cheerful music." It was strange how calmly he could say things like that. "There are more beautiful songs. Give me time—I'll be able to play them for you soon."
His sincere smile was very pretty.
The simplicity of it scrambled my heart.
I adjusted my glasses, though I didn't need to.
"I'll be waiting…" I whispered. I didn't trust my voice just now.
Jakob returned his attention to the piano, pressed a few keys, and laughed softly.
"If my family could see me now…" So many emotions hid inside those words.
That reminded me…
"I have something for you, Jakob," I said, pulling a letter from my chest pocket. "Here."
Jakob stared at the envelope, face unreadable. It must be difficult for him to confront his family.
He looked exhausted—and resigned.
He took the letter carefully. When he saw the red seal, one eyebrow arched, and a sarcastic smile appeared.
"The Liedschlags," he said, sounding amused.
"Your grandfather, according to the Director."
Jakob looked at the envelope as if it weighed more than it should.
"How… peculiar." The disinterest in his voice made me worry.
"You don't have to open it now."
"I wasn't planning to." His tone turned hostile.
"Jakob."
He looked up.
There was fatigue there. And something like shame.
"Sorry." He exhaled through his nose and looked away. "It's hard dealing with everything that's happening."
"It's alright." You've given everything you have. I smiled gently. "It's alright to be tired. Just remember there are people who care about you."
He looked at me, eyes wide—disbelieving, startled.
"Forgive me… for disappearing. For not saying anything. For…" He cut himself off, brow barely furrowing. "For making you worry."
The raw sincerity in his voice stripped away my remaining irritation.
Without thinking, I lifted my hand and touched his face.
Jakob froze.
His skin was warm.
My chest filled with something dangerous.
"Don't do it again," I murmured.
He didn't pull away, but he smiled like he did when he was thinking something foolish.
"I'll try," he said, tired.
"That wasn't a suggestion," I said, putting on my strictest scolding tone.
He laughed.
"Alright. You win." Now he looked like the Jakob I knew.
"Jakob."
"Yeah?"
I needed to be sure.
"Are you okay?"
The question hung between us.
I watched the light leave his eyes. His focus drifted.
His expression went blank.
And that answered me more clearly than any words could.
"I'm fine," he said, smiling in a way that didn't reach his eyes.
You're a terrible liar, Jakob…
I had the urge to hug him. To hold his face between my hands and tell him he could trust me with his burdens.
But I couldn't force him.
Instead, I said, "You're an idiot."
Jakob let out a low chuckle.
"Guilty."
And absurdly, it almost made me cry.
I looked away toward the piano.
"Play again." I smiled and straightened. "But this time, make it a happy song."
He blinked.
"Now?"
"Yes," I said with a smile.
"Was that an order?" he asked, doubtful.
"If you want to call it that," I said, amused. "Don't forget I'm your teacher."
Jakob stared at me for several seconds.
When he finally lowered his gaze, something in me eased.
This time I walked around the piano slowly and sat beside him—close enough to see the faint tremor in his fingers.
The second melody began softer.
More broken.
I watched him, not the keys.
To my surprise, Jakob played something even more beautiful—pure…
"It's a gorgeous song," I said, warmth spreading through my chest.
"Isn't it?" a third voice said from behind us.
I moved on instinct. I grabbed Jakob by the collar and hauled him against my shoulder, leaping back to put distance between us.
…The person standing casually in the corner of the room looked utterly unconcerned.
"There's no need to keep your guard up," she said. A chill ran through me at how normal her voice sounded—almost unnaturally so. "We're both Jakob's friends."
Orange hair.
Emerald-green eyes.
A friendly smile and relaxed posture.
"She's telling the truth," Jakob said flatly from my shoulder. "Primrose, don't you think you could've chosen a better moment to show yourself?"
Jakob sounded like my father when dealing with my younger sisters—or when he was exhausted.
"I thought it was the right moment." The way she smiled made my stomach sink.
This person is dangerous.
"…The last time you decided something was 'the right moment,' I had to fight a bear," Jakob said.
Jakob did what?
"And before that, you made me listen to Conlaoch's terrible poetry."
Primrose puffed out her cheeks, looking adorably offended.
Bad.
"His poems are nice," she said, like a child throwing a tantrum. "That's no way to speak about your friend."
Bad.
"His poems are awful," Jakob said, somehow relaxing in her presence, but—
"…Mou." She didn't seem to be acting at all. Then why did everything about her feel so dangerous? "You're mean."
Bad.
"Forget it," Jakob said, sounding even more like my father. "Primrose, this is Armine—my friend. Armine, this is Primrose, the one who's been training me these days."
"Hi!" Her cheerful voice and genuinely happy expression only confused me more. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you officially!"
In a quick motion, she was right in front of me, hand extended, eyes kind.
"…Likewise." I shook her hand. I didn't fully understand the "officially" part, but I let it go. She was very strange. "Thank you for looking after Jakob."
She smiled brightly.
"It was difficult," she said.
Armine, don't laugh. Control yourself.
"But he's stopped being shy about sleeping together."
Eh?
"Don't say things that can be misunderstood," Jakob said, exhausted.
"But you were scared to sleep alone," Primrose said with a grin that stretched ear to ear. I narrowed my eyes. "And you were always on alert."
"Because the last time I slept with any confidence, you threw me into a lake and had a pack of wolves chase me," Jakob said, sounding very tense. "And Conlaoch's attacks were intermittent. I needed at least some of that to fall on you."
…Blessed Sodchad.
"What kind of training is that?" I asked aloud. Primrose smiled innocently; Jakob sighed.
"A necessary kind," Jakob said—his voice different. "But no better—or worse—than yours."
"Now you're complaining?" I couldn't hide my smile. Seeing Jakob act like a delicate noble was funnier than I expected.
"I'm not complaining." His voice was calm. I saw the small smile at his lips. "Truly—thank you, both of you. But remember I'm a normal human being. I'm not on your level."
"Normal?"
"Jakob is normal?"
Primrose and I spoke at the same time. Jakob seemed to think, then laughed.
We both joined in a moment later.
"Hey, Armine," Jakob said after we stopped laughing, "you can put me down now."
Oh.
"Sorry," I said, setting him on the floor. "I sensed imminent danger."
"Why?" Primrose tilted her head cutely. This girl who put me on edge just by existing was like my twin sisters. "We're among friends."
"You wouldn't understand, Primrose," Jakob said, clearly amused. "But yes, Armine—I know what you mean."
He gave me a complicit look.
"Mmm… Jakob, putting all this aside, you should start preparing for the opening ceremony." Jakob's expression sharpened into seriousness and determination for some reason.
"I'm prepared." There was confidence in his voice—and his face looked rather… attractive.
"Good." I smiled. "You can go in formal uniform or a suit made for the occasion. Since you'll be performing, I suggest the latter."
"…"
"Also, you should consider cutting your hair." It was long—just past his shoulders. It didn't look bad, but someone might consider it a lack of proper decorum. "People from everywhere will be there, along with their parents. Be careful not to offend them."
"…"
A thin sheen of sweat formed on Jakob's forehead. His eyes grew nervous; his expression tightened with anxiety.
"Armine," Jakob said my name very slowly—then turned to Primrose, smiling, and took her hand. "I have to prepare. See you later!"
"Jakob!?" Primrose yelped, startled—yet smiling, with a blush on her face.
"There's no time!" Jakob sounded extremely nervous. "We need clothes and we need to look good. If I leave you alone, you'll do something stupid!"
I watched them run off.
For some reason, I kept staring at Jakob holding Primrose's hand. They looked comfortable together—almost like a couple, simply from their closeness.
She was shorter than him, delicate-looking, pretty, and cheerful.
And I was sure Jakob would appreciate a normal human girl like Primrose more…
It hurt.
Why did it hurt?
I noticed how he worried about her and—
"…Hey," I said into the air, absent. "What about me?"
…
…
…
**That same night**
The Great Hall of Eozän was—without exaggeration—one of the most impressive structures I had ever seen in my life.
And that's saying something, considering I grew up in a palace inside a volcano.
I looked up at the ceiling carvings: pure gold and ivory.
The golden figure at the center held light in its hands, letting it spill down over the peoples of this world.
Everything else was magnificent as well.
White marble columns rose into a vaulted ceiling.
Crystal chandeliers floated in the air, held aloft by ancient magic, pouring warm, solemn light over the hundreds of people gathered inside.
Hundreds.
Not dozens—hundreds.
Nobles of every origin and rank, with their escorts for the occasion.
Bourgeois—merchants and heirs to factories who had bought their way in with obscene fortunes and influence that rivaled nobility.
Commoners with talents so extraordinary that nations had fought to sponsor them.
Scholarship students—special talents the Academy itself had deemed valuable to the future, deserving cultivation.
All gathered here.
The foundations of the world's future would be built in this place.
And I stood at the main entrance, uniform perfectly pressed, wearing my best diplomatic smile, greeting each of them as if there were nowhere else I'd rather be.
As a candidate for student representative, it was my duty to offer the official welcome.
"Smile, Armine. Smile like you're being paid for it." My mother's voice echoed in my memory.
She always said diplomacy was ninety percent smiling, ten percent not accidentally crushing anyone.
I adjusted my glasses and straightened my posture.
The first group approached.
"Lady Kraftvollarm," a nasal, sharp voice greeted me with a bow so elaborate it looked choreographed. "It is an immeasurable honor to stand before the daughter of the Queen of Giants and the Hero Who Defied the Abyss."
The young man was thin as a reed, blond hair slicked back, a monocle that seemed more decorative than useful.
His uniform carried gold embroidery far beyond what the dress code allowed.
Behind him, three servants carried what appeared to be… gifts?
"Lord…" I searched my memory for the name tied to the coat of arms on the servants' livery—a golden griffin on a field of blue. "…Ashworth. Of the Duchy of Velmoria. It's a pleasure."
"You remembered my name!" The young man squealed with delight. "My father will be so pleased. He always says connections with giant nobility are essential for the future of transcontinental trade and—"
"I'm sure we'll have the opportunity to discuss such matters during the academic year," I interrupted with the grace years of practice had given me. "For now, please take your seat. The ceremony will begin soon."
"Of course, of course!" He bowed again, nearly striking his head on the floor. "May the King of Souls bless your day, Lady Kraftvollarm!"
He left practically floating, his servants struggling to keep up with the gifts I would later have to refuse diplomatically.
I sighed inwardly.
One down. Approximately two hundred ninety-nine to go.
The next hour blurred into names, titles, and forced smiles.
"Lady Kraftvollarm, I am Heinrich Eisenberg, heir to the Margraviate of—"
"A pleasure, Lord Eisenberg."
"Princess Armine, my name is Celestine du Beaumont, and my family has long admired the giant-human alliance since—"
"The honor is mine, Lady Beaumont."
Among the sea of nobility, a few stood out for less pleasant reasons.
"Well, well. A half-blood playing hostess."
I tensed—barely.
The voice came from a cluster of young people who wore arrogance like perfume.
At the front stood a girl with jet-black hair cut in a severe bob, violet eyes assessing me like livestock at auction.
I recognized the crest on her brooch: a black serpent devouring its own tail on a purple field.
House Coadă-Scurt, of the Solomonara Empire.
"Lady Leana Coadă-Scurt," I said in a tone so neutral it could have frozen the Director's tea. "Welcome to Eozän."
"It's 'Baroness' Coadă-Scurt, dear," she corrected, smiling without warmth. "Though I suppose protocols are difficult when one grows up among… beasts."
The insult was so transparent it almost made me pity her.
Almost.
"My apologies, Baroness." I dipped my head just enough to satisfy protocol. "Solomonara's customs are certainly… unique. My father used to mention your empire's fascinating traditions. Particularly those concerning succession."
The Baroness's smile froze.
Everyone knew Solomonara had an "accident" rate that would make a war zone blush.
"I'll take that as a compliment," she hissed.
"As you wish, Baroness. Please—take your seat."
She walked away with her retinue, and I could have sworn I heard one of her guards mutter something about "insolent giants."
I let my smile sharpen by a hair.
"Ninety percent smile, ten percent don't crush anyone."
Mother would have been proud.
"That person smelled like blood."
A familiar voice made me turn.
Primrose stood there.
Or rather—beside me, because I hadn't heard her approach at all.
She wore a lovely white dress—fitted, but modest. Her orange hair was styled elegantly, light makeup on her face.
She wore glasses that made her seem meek.
She was smiling at me.
It was a perfectly innocent smile that, for some reason, made me want to protect her.
"Primrose." I smiled—truly. "You look nice."
"Thank you! Jakob got me this dress. I was going to come in one of my mom's old ones." I heard several male students swallow hard as she twirled once. "He also told me to come say hello before the ceremony starts."
Jakob got her that dress?
Why did that irritate me?
"That was very considerate of him," I said—my voice tighter than I intended. "I hope he prepared well."
Jakob, don't ruin this…
"He will," Primrose said brightly. She tilted her head, green eyes fixed on mine. "He told me to tell you not to worry. He also said you'd probably be exhausted talking to boring people."
Something warm flared in my chest—Jakob had thought of me.
Something else tightened when I heard how familiar Primrose sounded saying his name.
"Primrose." I should have let her go, but I needed to ask. "What noble house are you from?"
She laughed out loud.
"I'm a commoner."
Uh?
A commoner…?
"And Jakob treats you well?" I asked, keeping my tone casual.
"Yes!" Her smile widened. "I'm teaching him how to use firearms. He's a dedicated student—though he complains a lot when I wake him up early."
Of course. From a training standpoint, it made sense.
Perfectly logical.
There was no reason my jaw should have tightened.
"I see," I said. "I'm glad Jakob continues to give his best."
Primrose smiled.
"He's very stubborn when he wants to be," she said, then seemed to think. "And he fights a lot with Conlaoch."
"We never really fight," a new voice said, amused. "He says he isn't ready. Honestly, I think he's gathering more power."
I looked toward the voice.
A handsome boy with black hair tied back, red eyes, and a wolfish gaze walked toward us.
His black suit looked good on him.
"I'm sorry…" I left the question hanging.
"Conlaoch McNessa," he supplied. I recognized the surname; it was as legendary as my father's name.
"A pleasure." I extended my hand; he shook it.
"I came to stop Primrose from doing something strange, but I see Jakob has trained her enough," he said. His tone was playful—yet cautious.
"Something strange?" I looked at Primrose, who had puffed out her cheeks again.
"I'm not weird," she protested cutely. "And I don't want to do anything right now that would ruin the dress Jakob gave me."
I didn't like the smile Conlaoch wore then.
"Oh?" His amused expression made me want to hit him. "I didn't know that was his game. I clearly underestimated the pale one."
"Could you please continue later?" I glanced at the line—there were still people to greet. "I need to welcome more students."
They looked as well. There was still a lot of diplomacy ahead.
"You heard her, Primrose," Conlaoch said, moving first. "Later we can talk calmly. I'd like to hear stories about the great Götz."
His smile was both kind and feral.
It reminded me a little of Jakob… they would make good friends.
I watched him head inside, still smiling.
"Oh—sorry, Armine," Primrose said, hurrying after him. "Good luck."
I smiled. They seemed like good people—eccentric, but I should expect that from Jakob's friends.
…
…
…
Once the greetings were over, I finally sat down to watch the ceremony with a glass of cider in hand.
It always began with the Director's speech.
John Hawkwood looked impeccable in a gray suit despite his obvious frailty.
His voice—amplified by the microphone—filled the Great Hall with warmth and authority.
"Welcome, young promises, to Eozän Academy…" He smiled like a father. "It is a pleasure to have you here—nobles and commoners alike—talents who will light the future with hope…"
I listened with half an ear while my eyes scanned the crowd.
Nobles from Erdeder Gnade, Hesperidia, Glorienne, Auretia, Ausonia, and Solomonara.
The great powers of the continent gathered in one hall—almost inspiring, if I didn't already know how deep the divisions ran.
Zhongguo and Ōyashima had also sent people of notable caliber.
I spotted dignitaries from Arshaka-Nûr, Khamsin, and the Church of the King of Souls.
Bourgeois with sharp eyes and expressions of cold rationality.
The scholarship students—brace yourselves. Life here will be competition.
I took a sip of cider. What a stressful day.
I wished I could go to sleep soon.
"…And now, to commemorate the beginning of this new chapter, our band will honor us with a musical piece," the Director's voice cut through my thoughts.
He stepped aside, and only then did I notice the beautiful piano behind him.
"Here they come," someone murmured.
We watched the band take their positions, carrying their instruments—except for one.
I smiled.
Jakob walked toward the piano with measured steps. The black-and-gold suit he wore fit him perfectly.
Suddenly I became aware of how training had shaped him: broader shoulders, straighter back—impressive.
His long hair was tied in a high ponytail and… his face—
"He's really handsome," I heard a girl say behind me.
Yes. It was true.
Jakob didn't look at the audience. He didn't seek approval, and he didn't show nerves.
He simply sat, adjusted his posture, and placed his fingers on the keys.
Silence fell over the Great Hall.
Then the band began.
The first notes were soft.
Almost shy.
Like raindrops falling on a still lake.
Around me, the murmurs stopped completely.
The music grew.
I closed my eyes.
My student. My friend. The boy who worked harder than anyone despite lacking natural talent.
The one who said foolish things and embarrassed easily.
The notes rose and fell like waves in a storm.
There was urgency in them. Desperation. And beneath it all, a fragile hope fighting not to drown.
My eyes burned.
"Don't cry," I told myself. "Not here. Not in front of everyone."
But when the melody finally began to descend—when the waves calmed, when the notes became more spaced, gentler—a tear escaped anyway.
The music ended on a single sustained note.
Long.
Clear.
Like a question without an answer.
And then—silence.
I opened my eyes.
No one applauded.
Not because they disliked it.
Because no one knew how to respond to what they had just experienced.
I looked around.
Even the Director—who had seen and heard everything across decades—was staring at Jakob with… concern?
The first to move was Conlaoch.
He stood and began clapping.
The sound broke the spell. Others followed—first a few, then more, until the entire Great Hall thundered with applause.
But it wasn't ordinary applause.
It was the kind people give when they don't know what else to do with what they're feeling.
Jakob rose from the piano.
He bowed briefly—almost mechanically.
And when he lifted his head, his eyes found mine.
For a second I saw a silent question: *Was it good?*
I smiled at him.
Not the diplomatic smile I'd worn all night.
A real one.
"Well done," I mouthed. Even if he couldn't hear it, I knew he'd understand.
Something in his expression softened.
The ceremony continued after that.
More speeches. More presentations. More diplomatic smiles.
But my mind was elsewhere.
When it finally ended and the students began to disperse toward their dorms, I made my way through the crowd to where I'd last seen Jakob.
I found him near one of the side exits, speaking with Amadeus and the other musicians.
"—It was acceptable, I suppose," Amadeus was saying, his expression contradicting his words. "Though you deviated from the original arrangement in the second movement."
"I improvised a little," Jakob replied with a shrug. "The moment called for it."
"'Improvised.'" Amadeus stared at him as if he'd confessed to a crime. "Musicians do not 'improvise' during official ceremonies."
"This one did."
Amadeus opened his mouth to respond, but he noticed me approaching and stopped.
"Lady Kraftvollarm," he said with a bow. "A pleasure."
"Likewise," I replied automatically, eyes fixed on Jakob. "May I speak with Jakob for a moment?"
"Of course." Amadeus gave Jakob one last unreadable look, then withdrew with his group.
We were alone.
Well—about as alone as one can be in a hall still full of people.
"Hey," Jakob said, wearing that sideways smile he always used when he was nervous.
"Hey," I answered.
Silence stretched.
"So…" he began.
"It was beautiful," I cut in.
He blinked.
"What?"
"The music." I stepped closer. "It was… I don't have the words. It was beautiful, Jakob."
He looked at me strangely, as if he wanted to believe me but couldn't.
"I did the best I could," he said at last. "You asked for something happy and I played something sad. Again."
"It was both." I shook my head. "It was sad, yes—but it was also… hopeful. At the end. Like you were saying things can get better even if they hurt right now."
Jakob went very still.
"That's what you heard?" His voice came out rough.
"That's what I felt."
I watched him swallow.
"Armine…"
"Yes?"
He opened his mouth, then closed it. Looked away.
"Nothing. Just… thank you."
It wasn't what he wanted to say. I knew it.
But I didn't push him.
Instead, I did something that was probably inappropriate, given the place—and the number of noble eyes that might be watching.
I hugged him.
He tensed for a moment. Then, slowly, his arms lifted and hugged me back.
"Thank you for staying," he murmured against my shoulder. "Thank you for being here."
"Always," I answered, and I meant it. "I'll always be here, Jakob."
The embrace lasted longer than was proper.
I didn't care.
"They're definitely dating."
Conlaoch's voice floated in from somewhere to our left.
"We're not!" Jakob and I shouted at the same time, jerking apart.
I saw Conlaoch leaning against a column, Primrose beside him. Both of them watched us with barely contained amusement.
"Whatever you say, Princess," Conlaoch said.
"Both of your heart rates increased," Primrose added with an innocent smile. "And you smell different now. Warmer. Like—"
"Primrose!" I snapped, face burning.
"—freshly baked food," she finished anyway.
Jakob covered his face with both hands.
"They're the worst friends in the world…" I heard him mutter, then his expression shifted, startled. "Friends…"
The word—
"Hah!" Conlaoch laughed. "As if you're any better, pale boy."
A vein stood out on Jakob's forehead.
"Shut up, wet dog!" Jakob snapped. Primrose laughed—so it must be an inside joke. "I'll feed you to the wolves!"
Now it was Conlaoch's turn to look comically furious.
"You little son of—!"
They traded insults.
I glanced at Primrose. She watched the two boys with fond amusement.
Joy warmed me. Jakob had made two new friends.
I was proud.
"Excuse me," a new voice interrupted my thoughts. "I'd like to speak with you for a moment, Lady Kraftvollarm."
I turned.
A man stood there—blond, with long hair, storm-gray eyes, and a velvety voice.
He was unbelievably handsome.
"A pleasure," I said in my best political tone, extending my hand. "And you are?"
He took my hand, meeting my eyes.
"The pleasure is mine." His smile was practiced; he was clearly skilled at politics. "Aeono Serenwyn."