Chapter 16
The realization brought a strange sense of nostalgia.
Back when she was a commoner, how bitterly had she watched them from afar?
How infuriating had it been to see Eila—living luxuriously and basking in Kadin’s love—simply because she was a noble?
‘Without the title of nobility, you’re nothing in the end.’
As she silently savored the triumph, one of the noble ladies, seizing the moment, spoke up with feigned concern.
“What’s wrong? Has the tea lost its flavor? Or is this your first time drinking it? Oh dear… How inconsiderate of us.”
“Well, Roshia hasn’t been a noble for long. We’ve had years to learn etiquette, but it must still feel unfamiliar to you.”
Roshia’s eyes narrowed at the veiled mockery.
Freya and her friends might have acted friendly, but they hadn’t truly accepted her yet.
‘They’re mocking me. Fine, let’s see.’
Noble society was insular. They didn’t welcome outsiders so easily.
In moments like these, words weren’t necessary—actions spoke louder.
With meticulous grace, Roshia lifted the teacup from its saucer, her movements deliberate and poised.
As she brought the cup to her lips, every gaze in the room locked onto her.
She took a sip, letting the flavor linger on her tongue before swallowing, her demeanor effortlessly elegant.
Her flawless execution left no room for criticism.
Freya, noticing this, smiled faintly.
“You’re quite well-versed in etiquette.”
“Yes, I studied diligently at my uncle’s estate before joining the Blanche family.”
“Hmm. Your habits are oddly similar to Eila’s. Interesting.”
“Are they? I wouldn’t know—I’m not familiar with Eila’s habits.”
Roshia inwardly preened.
‘So my efforts are showing.’
She had only played the fool within the Blanche household.
To perfectly usurp Eila’s place, she had meticulously copied her mannerisms, habits, and even her etiquette.
Freya’s approving expression told Roshia she had earned at least some recognition.
The noble girls’ gazes toward her gradually shifted.
The Riod Academy, true to its prestige, frequently hosted distinguished figures from various fields.
But few guests drew as much attention as the man who had just arrived.
All eyes turned toward the middle-aged man striding through the academy’s gates.
His deeply furrowed brow, ice-cold gaze, and imposing stature exuded authority.
Behind him, knights clad in black cloaks followed, their heavy footsteps resonating with each stride.
The students shrank under the weight of his presence, yet their admiration was unmistakable.
The Kistarre Knights—elite warriors from the Argenta Duchy, the largest territory in the empire.
Their primary duty was guarding the Dark Forest bordering the duchy, where high-level monsters frequently emerged.
Their reputation rivaled even the Imperial Knights, forged through countless battles on the frontlines.
“Oh my god, is that Duke Argenta himself?”
“Seeing him in person is an honor—he rarely attends social events!”
“I’d heard he occasionally visits the academy, but this is my first time seeing him.”
Duke Argenta ignored the students entirely, heading straight for the headmaster’s office.
“Welcome, Your Grace.”
The headmaster bowed deeply, but the duke barely acknowledged him, his piercing eyes scanning the room.
The professors, including the headmaster, averted their gazes under his frigid scrutiny.
Yétien, the duke’s aide, discreetly wiped his brow.
‘His mood is worse than usual today. It must be because of the date.’
Today marked the anniversary of the duke’s son’s disappearance.
Yétien sighed inwardly.
‘He needs to find a suitable disciple. Though it won’t be easy…’
The Argenta lineage lacked an heir—direct or distant.
Unbeknownst to many, the duke visited the academy yearly, searching for a worthy successor.
But so far, no one had met his standards.
Yétien clicked his tongue. The students had no idea how high the stakes were.
‘If someone caught the duke’s eye, they wouldn’t just become his disciple—they’d be groomed as his successor.’
The headmaster hesitantly asked,
“Your Grace, will you be observing the swordsmanship department again this year?”
“Yes. Lead the way.”
Soon, they arrived at the training grounds where swordsmanship students practiced.
The duke observed them from a distance.
True to their reputation as the empire’s finest knight candidates, the students maintained strict discipline.
Even during breaks, they drilled relentlessly, hoping to catch the duke’s attention.
Yétien studied them.
‘Most are probably commoners.’
The Kistarre Knights were known for recruiting based on talent, not nobility.
“Their movements aren’t bad.”
Yétien startled at the duke’s rare praise.
‘For His Grace to say “not bad” is high praise indeed.’
The duke seldom complimented even skilled knights.
‘His standards are just that high.’
Yétien followed the duke’s gaze toward a student with striking silver hair.
But before he could assess the boy’s skills, trouble erupted.
The student exchanged heated words with another, and within moments, the entire class was in an uproar.
“I’ll wipe the floor with you!”
“Let’s see who comes out on top!”
Yétien paled.
“A duel? Now, of all times?”
The headmaster looked aghast before hurriedly signaling the professors.
“What kind of discipline is this?!”
As one instructor moved to intervene, the duke’s deep voice halted him.
“No. Let them be.”
A faint smirk played on the duke’s lips.
“This is a perfect opportunity to gauge their skills.”
With that, he strode toward the commotion, Yétien trailing behind.
Felix adjusted his grip on his sword, surprised by how light it felt.
‘My vision is sharper too.’
Ever since gaining the ability to sense mana, his world had transformed.
From birth, he had lived with deprivation.
A life without parents. A life without mana.
He had accepted his circumstances, pushing through adversity with sheer will.
‘If my parents abandoned me, then mana simply turned its back on me too.’
That was how he had consoled himself.
But sometimes, doubt crept in.
‘Isn’t this too cruel?’
He could endure being parentless. He could bear mana insensitivity.
But the worsening headaches from mana depletion while training had nearly broken him.
‘But now, everything’s different.’
