Chapter 51: Classmate Alia…
The magic carpet glided beneath wispy clouds, a leaf carried by the wind’s will. Ailiya lounged on its soft surface, propped on her elbow, gazing at the vast grasslands below, bathed in the golden glow of sunset.
She hadn’t expected chasing a mouthy thief would take her so far. The grand capital was now a faint smudge on the horizon.
Her eyes shifted to Sylvie, sitting quietly, chestnut hair dancing in the breeze. Ailiya marveled inwardly at Sylvie’s boundless compassion. If that thief called me a pauper, my fist would’ve flown first thing.
The fading sunlight pierced the clouds, casting a soft spotlight on Sylvie’s face. Her skin glowed translucent, long lashes casting delicate shadows, her beauty tinged with a melancholic stillness, hiding a subtle sorrow like an undercurrent beneath a calm lake.
“I grew up in a small fishing village called Tidewind,” Sylvie began softly, her voice nostalgic and slightly hoarse. “On normal days, I’d go fishing with the adults. But the sea wasn’t always kind. Storms would cut off our food supply, and the hunger… I’ll never forget it.”
When the kingdom conducted a magic aptitude survey, Sylvie was found to have remarkable potential, earning her a direct admission to St. Freya Academy—an unimaginable feat for Tidewind.
The night before she left, the village threw a celebration, pooling their best food, their eyes brimming with hope. If Sylvie succeeded, their struggling village might see better days.
She carried their heavy expectations alone.
Her voice grew quieter, each word weighted. “So I have to give it my all.”
She aced the entrance exam, buried herself in studies, hoping to rise above her origins.
“I thought I’d never fit in at St. Freya… but then I met you, Ailiya.”
Her words brushed Ailiya’s heart like a feather. Embarrassed, Ailiya twirled a strand of white hair, mumbling, “I… didn’t do much.”
Still, the sincere gratitude warmed her like honey.
“Actually…” Sylvie’s tone held a hint of regret. “I wanted to take you to Evening Bell Bridge to watch the sunset. There’s a spot with a perfect view of half the capital. But now… we won’t make it back in time.”
She sighed.
“No big deal!” Ailiya grinned, gesturing to their surroundings: endless golden grasslands below, a vibrant, shifting sky above, a breeze carrying the scent of grass and dusk’s warmth.
Their skirts fluttered—Ailiya’s black-and-white maid outfit and Sylvie’s simple white dress blending harmoniously in the scene.
“This view’s amazing!” Ailiya exclaimed.
Sylvie gazed at the landscape, murmuring, “Yeah… it’s beautiful…”
A warm, soft touch grazed Ailiya’s hand. She glanced down—Sylvie’s hand rested on hers. Sylvie’s eyes remained on the horizon, seemingly unaware.
Just… caught up in the view, right? Ailiya’s heart skipped, flustered.
A sudden gust rocked the carpet. Ailiya yelped, losing balance and tumbling backward. In the chaos, Sylvie didn’t let go—instead, she fell onto Ailiya, their faces inches apart, breaths mingling, skin pressed close.
Ailiya’s mind blanked.
Then Sylvie smiled, not panicked but sly and gentle. Before Ailiya could react, Sylvie tightened her grip, lacing their fingers together.
“You okay, Ailiya?” she asked, a playful lilt in her voice.
Ailiya stared into those starry eyes, her face burning. “F-Fine…” she stammered.
The return trip was… awkward. Sylvie hummed a cheerful tune, at ease, while Ailiya fidgeted nervously.
In a moment Ailiya looked away, Sylvie’s smile faded, a deep sadness crossing her face, gone in an instant. Ailiya missed it.
The carpet landed at St. Freya as night fell, the horizon clinging to a bruised indigo glow.
“See you, Ailiya,” Sylvie said, releasing her hand and heading toward the noble dorms.
As a commoner scholarship student, she shouldn’t have been there, but St. Freya’s reputation demanded its top students live in style, so they gave her a lavish room on the third floor.
Initially, Sylvie had been grateful.
Until…
She stopped at her door. The corridor’s magic crystal lamps cast a cold, bright light, illuminating a mess before her.
Her few, faded clothes—worn from countless washes—lay heaped like trash. A filthy mop leaned against the wall, a bucket of gray, reeking sewage spilled over, soaking her belongings in a rancid stench.
Several viscount’s daughters in ornate lace dresses lounged across the hall, arms crossed, smirking like they were watching a clown show.
Seeing Sylvie, the leader laughed theatrically. “Oh, Sylvie, you’re back?”
Her companion chimed in with fake remorse. “So sorry! We saw some rags in the communal drying area, thought they were discards, and pulled them down. Then we realized—they’re yours.”
“Yeah,” the leader grinned. “We kindly picked them up for you. Shouldn’t you thank us?”
Their laughter pierced the quiet corridor like needles.
Sylvie’s heart was calm. She lifted her head, offering a polite, soft smile. “Really? Thank you so much.”
Amid their shrill cackles, she maintained her perfect smile, silently crouching to gather the heavy, sewage-soaked clothes.
“Tch, look at those clothes—practically see-through. My maids wouldn’t wear that,” one sneered.
“She’s from some backwater fishing village. She’s lucky to have clothes at all!” another mocked.
The venomous words burrowed into her ears like cold insects. Her hand, reaching for the clothes, trembled uncontrollably.
It’s fine… she told herself. For Tidewind’s people… their hopes… I need to succeed.
She repeated it like a mantra against pain.
It’s fine… at least…
Her mind drifted to the golden grassland, the warm breeze rustling their skirts, and the warm hand clasping hers.
At least I have Ailiya…
Taking a deep breath, Sylvie clutched the cold, filthy clothes, letting the rancid water stain her pristine uniform. Amid the mocking laughter, she unlocked her door, stepped inside, and gently closed it, sealing out the malice and noise.