Morning came as usual.
But the atmosphere—
Was not.
The moment Lunivara stepped into the academy—
"Whisper… whisper…"
She felt it.
Different.
"…Is that her?"
"I heard she wasn't involved…"
"No, but the prince accused her himself…"
"Then what really happened…?"
Her steps slowed—just slightly.
[So it spread already…]
Not the usual fear.
Not the usual ridicule.
Confusion.
Lunivara continued walking, posture straight, expression calm.
As if nothing had changed.
[Good.]
A small thought crossed her mind.
[Uncertainty is better than certainty.]
She entered the classroom.
The noise didn't stop.
It only softened.
Eyes followed her.
Curious.
Careful.
No one approached.
No one mocked.
No one welcomed.
A strange balance.
"…Interesting."
She took her seat quietly.
A chair moved nearby.
"Slide—"
Velarisse.
Lunivara didn't look immediately.
But she felt it.
That presence.
"…Good morning."
Velarisse's voice was soft.
Polite.
Lunivara turned slightly.
"…Good morning."
A pause.
Velarisse hesitated.
Just a little.
"…About yesterday…"
Her fingers tightened slightly against her sleeve.
"I…"
A breath.
"…I do not believe you were responsible."
Silence.
Lunivara blinked once.
[That's new.]
"…I see."
Velarisse looked at her more directly now.
Careful.
Observing.
"…I wanted to say that."
Another pause.
"…Thank you."
Simple.
Quiet.
Velarisse seemed slightly surprised.
As if she didn't expect that response.
"…You're… welcome."
But she didn't leave.
Her gaze lingered.
Again.
"…Have we… truly never met before?"
"Thump."
Lunivara's fingers stilled slightly.
[Again.]
That same question.
That same feeling.
She tilted her head slightly.
Calm.
Controlled.
"I believe… we have not."
Velarisse frowned—just faintly.
"…I see."
But this time—
She didn't look convinced.
She returned to her seat.
Yet—
Even from behind—
She seemed distracted.
"Chatter… chatter…"
The classroom slowly returned to its usual noise.
But something had changed.
Lunivara leaned slightly back in her chair.
[The story is shifting.]
Not erased.
Not gone.
Just—
Unstable.
Her gaze moved toward the window.
[Good.]
A faint breath.
[That means… I still have room to move.]
Outside, the wind passed softly.
"Whoosh…"
And for the first time—
The whispers no longer sounded like judgment.
But possibility.