Margaret exhaled quietly as she stepped out of the Astrea manor. The cool breeze brushed against her face, but it did little to ease the thoughts pressing on her mind.
There was much to consider.
While she wasn’t entirely convinced, he had given her enough to think about. Still, it wasn’t a decision she could make alone. A true leader respected the opinions of their Order.
“How was it, Grand Knight?” Zane asked, stepping up eagerly.
“Did he throw in any outrageous demands?” Violette, another of her knights, added.
Margaret glanced at the two, then answered calmly, “It’s exactly what the terms said. Marquess Astrea simply wants to employ us under his banner.”
“Then that’s good, right?” Zane grinned. “We’ll finally be able to boast that we’re serving a great House of the Empire!”
“….”
“….”
A brief silence followed.
Violette let out a sigh beside him. “You should stop and think for a second.”
“It’s fine, Violette,” Margaret said.
Zane alternated his gaze between them, visibly confused. “W-What did I say?”
Violette shook her head. “Seriously. Where’s your pride as a knight?”
“It’s not about pride,” Zane said defensively. “We’d finally have resources, stability, and a secured future. And we’d get all that with barely any cost!”
“If it comes at the cost of standing beneath another name, is it really our future?” Violette paused, then added. “You’re still new here, so let me explain something. We used to be outcasts. It’s only because of the Grand Knight that we can even think about a future now.”
“….”
Margaret remained silent, watching them both. Their reactions reflected exactly what she feared. A divide in opinions of those who have been denied by nobility in the past.
After a moment of silence, she finally spoke.
“I haven’t made a decision yet. And I won’t. Not until I hear everyone’s voice. This Order wasn’t built by one person. It won’t be handed over by one either.”
“Yes,” the two nodded in unison.
As they continued walking through the grand estate, their eyes wandered across the well-kept grounds and lavish decorations. Then, just ahead, under the shade of an umbrella, they spotted a woman seated gracefully, sipping her tea.
She stood, adjusting her dress elegantly before turning toward them.
It was none other than Charlotte Astrea.
“It’s wonderful to see you again, Miss—no, Grand Knight Illenia,” Charlotte said warmly, pulling the side of her gown and offering a polite bow.
Margaret smiled in return and offered a respectful nod. “Lady Astrea. I haven’t seen you since Amesticross. You’ve grown so much in just a year.”
Charlotte let out a soft chuckle. “And it seems like you’ve become even more beautiful, Miss Illenia.”
Then, she gestured toward the garden table.
“Care to join me for tea?”
“What kind of tea? Is it—” Zane blurted out, but before he could embarrass himself, Violette quickly clamped a hand over his mouth.
“It would be our pleasure,” Margaret answered smoothly, as though nothing had happened.
Charlotte smiled, clearly amused by the exchange. “Please, have a seat.”
They gathered around the elegantly arranged table beneath the umbrella. A servant stepped in to refill the porcelain cups and adjusted the tray of delicate pastries set neatly at the center.
The scent of chamomile and elderflower wafted through the air, blending with the scent of the surrounding garden roses.
Margaret took her seat across from Charlotte, while Violette and Zane remained slightly behind, standing at attention.
“How have you been, Miss Illenia?” Charlotte asked, setting her teacup down with a clink.
“It’s been rather busy. But still quite manageable,” Margaret replied. “And you, Lady Astrea? From what I hear, the Astrea household is quickly becoming one of the rising powers within the Empire.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Charlotte said modestly. “My brother’s still adjusting to the High Council’s demands. Though… they’ve been less harsh on him lately compared to his first few sessions.”
“Is that so…?”
Margaret wasn’t so sure of the specifics. However, she was well aware of the structure.
The most influential members of the High Council often held significant sway in the parliament. The two institutions worked in tandem to balance each other out to ensure that neither the noble elite nor the commoner class dominated unchecked.
For every ten nobles in the parliament, there would be ten highly educated commoners to match them. It was a system meant to preserve equilibrium between privilege and merit, at least in theory.
Of course, in the end, it was the Emperor who held the final say.
“Well, now that we’re on the topic. I assume you’ve finished speaking with my brother?” Charlotte asked. “If so, have you come to a decision?”
Margaret offered a small smile. “Yes, well… I still need to discuss it with my people. It’s not an easy decision to make.”
“Then, what about you, Miss Illenia?” Charlotte asked, her tone softer now. “What do you want?”
“….”
Margaret paused.
That was a different kind of question.
Not what her knights wanted.
Not what Vanitas wanted.
But what she wanted.
She looked down at her tea for a moment in deep thought. “I wish to… preserve what’s left of my people.”
In other words, her Crusade Order. The very group that once originated from the Illenia Kingdom, and was thereon re-established and officially recognized under Aetherion’s system.
While most of its members now hailed from Aetherion, several senior knights still carried the blood and memory of the fallen kingdom.
“Then I see no problem, Miss Illenia,” Charlotte replied, setting her cup down. “If your goal is to rise and preserve your legacy, then it’s best done alongside an organization that shares your values. And my brother… well, he’s capable of making the impossible happen.”
“….”
There was a certain truth in her words. From Viscount to Marquess was no small feat. Everyone in the Empire knew that. Vanitas Astrea knew exactly what he was doing.
“I’m not asking you to consider it,” Charlotte continued. “I’m asking you to pledge your sword to the Astrea name. To a Household that actually cares.”
“Forgive me for my impertinence, but that’s too—” Violette began, stepping forward with a furrowed brow, only to be halted by Margaret raising a hand.
Charlotte didn’t react. She simply closed her eyes for a moment, then spoke again, more softly this time.
“My brother needs all the help he can get. He’s not been… in the right state of mind lately.”
Margaret glanced up. “Not in the right state of mind? He seemed perfectly normal when we spoke.”
“Yes, on the surface,” Charlotte said. “But you know how he’s always been buried with work. Well, this past year, it’s gone beyond that. It’s like all he can think about are the details, the next move, the next responsibility. He’s pushing himself too hard. I just wish he would take a moment to rest.”
A sorrowful look crossed her expression, brows furrowed.
“He thinks I haven’t noticed, but I’ve seen the medicines he’s been taking.”
There was a subtle sense of genuine concern in her voice. Like a sister speaking, not a political envoy.
Margaret eyed her for a moment. “You’re worried about him.”
“I am,” Charlotte admitted. “More than he knows.”
“….”
It seemed like Vanitas didn’t take the breakup too well than Margaret had initially thought.
* * *
Vanitas was well aware of the risk that came with bringing Margaret to the table. But he also understood one fundamental truth.
To survive, one must consolidate every risk. To bind it before it becomes a threat.
And Margaret Illenia was a risk.
But like any sharp-edged weapon, she could be wielded if guided correctly.
The key was control. Binding her, whether through financial dependency, contractual obligation, or, if necessary, emotional appeal.
Even nihilism wasn’t off the table. After all, if one could die tomorrow, what meaning was left in restraint? In a dog eat dog world, morality often bent to necessity.
Power had never been about playing fair.
It had always been about staying ahead.
And Margaret Illenia, the one destined to surpass the Sword Saint, was the sharpest weapon he could claim.
As Vanitas stepped into his office at the University Tower, he halted abruptly.
“….”
Someone was already there—seated casually on the sofa, as if she’d been waiting all this time.
“Headmaster?” he said, surprised.
It was none other than Elsa Hesse, the Headmaster of Silver University Tower.
“You’re finally here,” she said with a smile. “Care to take a seat?”
Vanitas eyed her warily for a moment, then quietly closed the door behind him and took the seat opposite her.
“Firstly, I’d like to congratulate you,” Elsa said, sliding a sealed document across the table.
“….”
Vanitas glanced down at it, then back at her, before picking it up and scanning the title.
‘Imperial Professor Officialization’
“This is…?”
“After a year as a candidate, a decision has been made,” Elsa replied. “You’ve been selected, alongside twenty-five other candidates. Five validated theses, two of them awarded by the Scholars Institute, all within a single year… that’s no small feat.”
Vanitas stared at the document for a moment, then let out a soft breath.
“Congratulations, Professor Vanitas Astrea,” she added.
He leaned back in his chair, letting the moment settle in.
It was prestige, access, and influence to the highest academic institutions in the Empire. As an Imperial Professor, he would hold the authority to participate in or oversee official thesis defenses, represent institutions in the Scholars Institute, and even establish his own academy under his name if he so desired.
In practical terms, it meant his influence reached not only in council chambers but also in intellectual discourse across the Empire.
He would have all rights to sit in on panels during the annual academic conference, oversee policy recommendations from the Scholars Institute, and influence the next generation of scholars and policymakers.
“Selected… so it’s not finalized yet—”
But when he lifted his head to speak, the Headmaster was….
“….”
Gone.
And the document in his hand just vanished.
“….”
Vanitas stood abruptly, scanning the room.
Nothing seemed out of place. The furniture remained untouched, the scent of tea was still in the air. There were no traces of mana. Nor any influx in the atmosphere.
“It’s not a Fractal Dimension or a Magical Space….”
He stepped toward the window, eyes narrowing, but saw no signs of movement outside either. Everything was as it should be.
Then, stepping outside his office, he looked up and down the corridor, only to find the supposed bustling hallways empty.
No footsteps. No lingering mana. Nothing.
Vanitas’s jaw clenched slightly. An illusion? Hallucinogenic magic? But even that should’ve left an aftereffect. Even if it was miniscule, his spectacle would’ve picked up on it.
And yet, there was nothing.
He returned to his desk and stared at the spot where the document had been moments ago.
There was no indent in the wood. No scent of ink or seal wax.
“….”
As if it had never existed at all.
His fingers tapped against the edge of the table, his mind racing.
“….”
* * *
Astrid, feeling increasingly awkward in the lecture hall, decided to excuse herself and head to Professor Vanitas’s office. Not a single word had been exchanged between her and Ezra, and the air around him had grown uncomfortably tense.
“…”
She quietly opened the door to the office, and stopped in her tracks.
“Hm? Astrid, did you need something from the professor?”
Seated calmly on the sofa was none other than the Headmaster.
Startled, Astrid quickly lowered her head in respect. “H-Headmaster… What a surprise.”
Her eyes shifted to the figure seated across from the Headmaster. It was professor Vanitas, slouched over the desk, who was fast asleep with his face turned toward her.
“What happened to the professor?” she asked, blinking in confusion.
“He’s being tested,” Elsa replied casually.
“Tested? For what?”
“The Imperial Professor examination. He’s in the screening phase.”
Astrid stared at Vanitas’s sleeping form. She had never seen him look this vulnerable before. It was almost surreal.
To be honest, it was kind of funny… no—actually, really cute.
She quickly shook the thought away.
“Shouldn’t we wake him up?”
“No need. He’s in a projected screening field to evaluate his cognitive reflex, mana stability, mental resilience… the usual things they won’t put on paper.”
“….”
Astrid hesitated, still staring.
“Then… how long will it take?” she asked.
“Well, past candidates took a full day. I think mine took… sixteen hours?” Elsa said with a casual shrug.
“Eh? Then wouldn’t he be in danger being left like that for so long?”
Elsa raised a brow, a faint smirk forming on her lips. “Then… do you want to keep an eye on him?”
“….”
There wasn’t even a need to think.
Nod. Nod. Nod. Nod.
“Very well,” Elsa chuckled softly. “I’ll inform the faculty to redirect any visitors and issue a formal notice regarding lecture cancellations for all professors currently undergoing the screening.”
“Yes,” Astrid replied, a little too quickly.
Elsa gave her a knowing look, then turned toward the door. “Take care of him, Princess.”
“I will.”
With that, the Headmaster left, and the room fell into silence.
Astrid glanced at the closed door, then shifted her gaze back to Vanitas. Still slouched over the desk.
She walked over quietly and took a seat across from him, folding her hands neatly in her lap. Her eyes drifted over his face. He looked so unguarded, so calm and gentle…
Now that she took a closer look, she noticed his eyelashes were quite long and perfectly symmetrical. It was… unexpectedly elegant.
Then her eyes narrowed slightly.
“….Is he drooling?”
She leaned in just a bit.
It was strangely endearing. The ever-intimidating Professor Vanitas, now helplessly dozing off with his head tilted, barely breathing, and a tiny spot of drool threatening to stain the desk.
Astrid sighed and pulled a clean handkerchief from her pocket. After a brief hesitation, she gently wiped the corner of his mouth.
A small smile crept onto her face as she leaned back in her chair again.
Now that she thought about it… ten hours was a long time. What was she supposed to do for that long? She was starting to regret this.
But then she looked at him again, and somehow, those thoughts melted away.
“….”
A strange idea popped into her head.
“Should I…?”
Her gaze shifted to his cheek.
“He won’t know…”
The thought excited her for reasons she couldn’t explain.
“Maybe just once…”
She leaned in, slowly extended a finger… and poked his cheek.
Soft.
“Oh—!” She quickly pulled back, stifling a laugh. She could already imagine the look on his face if he ever found out.
“….Maybe again.”
She poked his cheek a second time.
“…Again.”
Another poke. Then another. And another. It was oddly satisfying. Too satisfying, even. She kept going until….
Creaaaaak.
The door creaked open.
“Hieeek—” Astrid jolted back in her seat, nearly knocking over the chair.
She spun around in panic, only to freeze. Standing in the doorway was Ezra, staring at her with a wide-eyed, completely stunned expression.
“….”
“….”
Silence.
Then, without a word, Ezra slowly turned… and began to close the door.
“Wait, it’s not what it looks like!” Astrid shouted, flinging her hand toward the door in a panic. It stopped mid-close as she held it with her telekinesis.
As she scrambled to her feet, she tripped over the leg of the chair.
“I’m not a perver—Ukeh!”
….And landed face flat on the floor with a graceless thud.
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