* * *
The walk back to the Academy had become strangely quiet.
When Dylan was in the middle, conversation flowed easily since they could talk right next to each other, but now, with Chester standing squarely in the way, it felt awkward for Ruite to even try talking to Dylan.
Chester seemed truly concerned about the gaze of family members who might pop up anywhere.
The Callaway family was known for its somewhat rigid and strict atmosphere, after all.
“Ah, speaking of which, Ruite. Can you spare some time when we get back?”
Dylan, who by nature couldn’t stand such silence, finally poked his head forward as if he couldn’t take it anymore.
“Why?”
“You watched my individual practice last time.”
It was quite common for students from the Magic Department and the Swordsmanship Department to supervise each other’s training.
Both departments involved physical activity; the only real difference was whether one used magic or not, so they shared a lot of common ground.
For that reason, it had long been a culture for students to ask peers from the “similar but different” department for feedback, rather than always relying on classmates who might share the same blind spots.
Because of this, it was a common sight during self-study hours to see Magic and Swordsmanship students paired up for training.
“You want me to watch again?”
“Yeah. Honestly, I think I messed up this practical exam a bit. I can’t afford to be lazy with my training if I want to make up for it during finals.”
“Too bad. I got a perfect score.”
Ruite grinned proudly.
“Don’t get cocky over points earned by getting caught up in an incident.”
Chester’s nagging—or something like it—immediately flew his way.
“What’s wrong with being a little proud?”
Ruite glanced at Dylan for a moment and then leaned closer to Chester.
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone but Professor Harold that I stepped on the crown of your head.”
Ruite’s gaze fell on the silver hair lightly brushing against the dark school uniform.
Recalling that moment, he chuckled to himself, his face lit up with amusement.
Chester, seemingly caught off guard, merely frowned and couldn’t find a retort.
Because Ruite had leaned in to whisper, their shoulders were nearly touching.
It was irritating, yet Chester found himself strangely focused on it.
So, throughout the time Ruite agreed to oversee Dylan’s training, and right until the Academy buildings appeared in the distance, Chester poured all his mental energy into two things: the peculiar strands of hair in his peripheral vision and the narrow distance between them.
Once they arrived at the Academy, Dylan headed to the dormitory first, leaving word to meet at the dueling grounds in a bit.
Chester, silent as ever, turned toward the main building.
Ruite started toward the dorms but paused.
He remembered he had left his training gear in the classroom instead of his room.
One of the most important rules of the dueling grounds was that one must wear the designated training uniform.
Even school uniforms were not permitted.
There were no exceptions, even for personal training outside of regular lectures.
That meant he had to go through the hassle of heading up to the classroom.
He was starting to regret promising to help Dylan.
However, supervising another department’s training was beneficial for him too.
Swordsmanship students specialized in combat involving blades; absorbing their movements point by point would have a positive impact on his own growth.
Personality aside, Dylan was actually among the top of his class.
Pushing his regret aside, Ruite entered the main building to head to the classroom.
As he climbed the central stairs, he saw a familiar, broad back.
Chester was also heading up, perhaps having business in the classroom, when he suddenly whipped around.
“Why are you following me?”
“I left my training clothes in the classroom. I’m not following you.”
“I believe I’ve told you several times that it’s better to improve your own skills than to waste time watching someone else’s training.”
“But watching Dylan train helps me, too.”
The two of them, having unintentionally arrived at the classroom together again, were greeted by the silent air as Chester opened the door.
The classroom, usually boisterous with the chattering of classmates, was still.
Since it was a day with only morning lectures due to the end of exams, it would have been stranger to find students here.
“What’s your business in the classroom, anyway?”
“To get my textbooks.”
“Exams just ended and you’re already studying again?”
“I’m not like a certain someone who lives life with total nonchalance.”
Chester went to his seat and pointedly gathered his books.
Ruite had assumed Chester achieved the top rank simply because he was a protagonist with innate talent, but it seemed Chester was putting in a fair amount of effort.
To go back into study mode less than a week after exams—Ruite knew he could never do that.
Ruite returned to his seat and placed his training clothes on his desk.
Usually, students changed in the locker rooms provided for each department, but he was too lazy to move again.
Besides, the classroom was essentially empty.
Ruite took off his vest and unbuttoned his shirt without hesitation.
The crisp white shirt slipped off his long arms and landed on the desk.
At that exact moment, a thud echoed from beside him.
Startled, Ruite looked over to see that Chester’s book had fallen to the floor.
“Chester, you dropped your book.”
However, the furrow in Chester’s brow showed no signs of disappearing.
“Oh, I didn’t feel like going to the locker room, so I’m just changing here.”
Noticing Chester’s questioning gaze, Ruite explained himself while pulling his shirt off entirely.
“…I didn’t ask.”
Chester snapped his gaze away as if he hadn’t been looking at all, and began rummaging through various materials on his desk with a blank face.
Yet, he felt as if his body and mind were working against each other.
His eyes kept wanting to drift back.
There wasn’t a bit of excess fat on Ruite’s torso as he fumbled for his training top.
What caught the eye most was his slender waist.
Moreover, it was striking how pale his skin was.
Perhaps it was because his hair color complemented his complexion so well, but there was a strange aura about him.
Suddenly, Ruite’s eyes met his.
Chester, pretending to be unfazed, did not look away.
Ruite, still half-dressed, began to take a step closer.
As that pale skin drew near, Chester bit down hard on the inside of his cheek.
“What do you think you’re…”
Just as he was about to snap at him for approaching in such a state, Ruite’s hand brushed against Chester’s shoulder and quickly pulled away.
“There was a loose thread.”
Ruite dangled a long, white thread in front of Chester’s face.
Looking at the fluttering thread, Chester suddenly realized his entire body was tensed up.
The realization felt incredibly unpleasant.
“Don’t touch me so carelessly.”
“I was just taking off a loose thread. Look.”
When Ruite tried to show him the thread as if to prove his innocence, Chester slapped his hand away. Ruite rubbed his slightly stinging hand.
“Whether there’s a thread or not is none of your business.”
After firing off that cold remark, Chester stormed out of the classroom. Left alone, Ruite’s gaze fell upon the desk. Chester had left behind the textbooks he had set aside to take with him.
Unaware of this, Chester walked down the hallway, taking long, brisk strides toward the stairs. As he approached the first floor, his hurried pace finally slowed.
“…”
He only stopped once his feet hit the first-floor lobby. As he stood dazed in the hallway, the door to a nearby professor’s office swung open.
“Oh, Chester.”
“Hello, Professor.”
It was Neo, the professor for the Magic Department’s practical lectures.
“Aren’t there only morning lectures today? What brings you to the main building?”
“Ah…”
Only then did Chester realize he had left without his textbooks.
Earlier, he had been so focused on getting out of the classroom that he hadn’t even thought to grab them.
“Hmm, Chester. Are you feeling unwell?”
“Pardon?”
Neo stepped closer as Chester hesitated, his response trailing off.
The professor scanned Chester’s face with a worried expression.
“Your face looks quite red… I was wondering if you might have a fever.”
Chester had grown up in a household where everything was controlled.
Perhaps because of that—or in spite of it—there was nothing he couldn’t control.
His actions, his words, his thoughts, and his emotions.
Of course, the orders from his family were a different story, but he hadn’t particularly resented them, so he figured if he had to accept the marriage to Ruite, he would.
He didn’t think marriage would change his life.
…Though he had rebelled against the family for the first time after seeing the true nature of the man named Ruite, that was an exception.
But now, for the first time, he felt as though that sense of control was failing him.
Something was just… off.
He felt a stifling sensation, as if this wasn’t how things were supposed to be.
As Chester wiped his face with his hand, Neo concluded that the student was indeed sick and asked with concern if he should head to the infirmary.
Despite the professor’s voice, Chester remained standing there, rooted to the spot for a long while.
* * *
