What a beautiful smile, Arthur thought, a fleeting, genuine appreciation slipping through his clinical defenses.
That appreciation lasted precisely until the sixth period.
The grand, sunlit archways of the Literature Hall offered no refuge. The sterile, alchemically scrubbed benches of the Science wing provided no sanctuary. Through every lecture, Celeste sat directly beside him, her chin planted firmly on her crossed arms, her gaze welded to the side of his head. She was doing the exact same thing she had done all morning, with one horrifying difference: she looked even happier.
Her smile was no longer just wide; it was blinding, radiating a pure, concentrated joy that Arthur found utterly suffocating.
Why isn't she leaving me alone? Arthur's internal voice frayed, the exhaustion bleeding through his meticulously maintained composure. He kept his eyes rigidly locked on his textbooks, gritting his teeth behind a placid expression. That smile is becoming a psychological hazard. She forgave me. The transaction is complete. What more could she possibly extract from this interaction?
He mentally calculated the remaining schedule. Surely she won't continue this in Magic Combat, right? The physical separation of the training grounds will force her to detach.
He was wrong again.
The Magic Combat arena was a sprawling expanse of churned earth and reinforced barriers. The moment the students dispersed for individual drills, Arthur retreated to his isolated corner to practice his standard stances. Yet, every time he completed a form, every time his eyes flicked upward to check his surroundings, he caught a flash of teal. Celeste stood on the opposite side of the sparring rings, beaming even more radiantly every single time she noticed him looking.
Eventually, her patience snapped. She abandoned her assigned dummy and bounded across the dirt, weaving through the sparring students to reach his corner.
"Devreux!" The sharp, dry bark of Head Instructor Clive sliced across the arena. "Return to your designated quadrant this instant!"
Celeste froze. She threw a spectacular, childish pout over her shoulder, groaning loudly, but reluctantly dragged her boots back to her assigned space.
Arthur let out a slow, controlled breath, carefully adjusting his grip on his wooden training blade. I guess she does have some respect for authority, he noted, filing the weakness away. A useful constraint.
The moment the dismissal bell tolled, Arthur moved with calculated swiftness. He sheathed his practice sword, seamlessly blending into the outward flow of students, intent on vanishing into the academy's labyrinthine halls. His night schedule was grueling—clandestine training, assisting Vigo's dangerous experiments, and hunting for clues on the Ash Mages. Every minute was accounted for.
"Cedric!"
The bright, melodic shout shattered his escape plan. Arthur closed his eyes for a microscopic second. No way. Is she planning on following me even after the school day has ended? That would completely disrupt my night schedule. I need to get rid of her somehow.
He pivoted, his saintly mask perfectly reassembled as Celeste skidded to a halt in front of him, slightly breathless and glowing with energy.
"Lady Celeste," Arthur said, lacing his voice with gentle confusion. "Why are you still following me? I thought you forgave me in the garden."
Celeste tilted her head, her smile remaining perfectly bright, but her amber eyes sharpening with an intensity that sent a cold spike of alarm through Arthur's chest.
"We still have an unsettled debt," she declared, her tone playfully sing-song but undeniably intimidating. "And I still want to fight you."
Ten minutes later, the two of them sat in a secluded booth within the grand, vaulted dining hall of the Honor Class cafeteria.
Arthur watched in clinical silence as Celeste enthusiastically demolished a massive plate of roasted boar and glazed root vegetables.
The way she worded that was genuinely terrifying, Arthur mused, casually stirring a cup of black tea he had no intention of drinking. But I guess all she wanted was for me to fulfill the compensation I offered her during the first period. She forgave me for staring, but forgiveness doesn't necessarily mean I am exempt from restitution.
He had no qualms about fulfilling the promise. Over his time at the Academy, he had accumulated 34,000 credits from his weekly stipends and an additional 120,000 from maintaining Rank One and collecting academic awards. He had over 150,000 credits sitting in his account, completely untouched. The number of items outside his budget could be counted on one hand.
So why, Arthur thought, watching her gleefully scrape the last bit of glaze off her plate with a silver fork, of all things, did she only ask me to buy her a meal worth 500 credits? I highly doubt any of this cafeteria food compares to the culinary masterpieces served at the Devreux estate.
"Lady Celeste," Arthur asked, keeping his tone light and conversational. "Is this really all you want? As Rank Two, shouldn't you have a reasonably large balance of your own to purchase whatever meals you desire?"
Celeste paused, a piece of roasted boar hovering inches from her mouth. She blinked at him, completely unbothered.
"Hm? I never got any money," she mumbled around the food, chewing happily. "I've only been able to eat the plain food provided by the academy."
She immediately returned to attacking the meal.
Arthur's meticulously constructed worldview paused to process the sheer absurdity of her statement. She must not have paid attention during the semester orientation, he deduced, suppressing a sigh. She simply never went to the administration office to claim her credits.
He watched her scrape the plate clean, a small spark of relief igniting in his chest. If all she wanted was a decent meal because she accidentally starved herself of luxury, then surely the transaction is over. Does this mean I am finally free?
Celeste let out a satisfied, childish sigh, dropping her fork onto the empty ceramic plate with a loud clatter. She patted her stomach, her teal hair bouncing as she looked up at him with that same, overwhelmingly bright smile.
"Alright," she chirped, sliding out of the velvet booth and gesturing for him to come along. "Follow me."
Beneath the table, Arthur's hand clenched into a tight fist.
I guess not.