Chapter 13 : Chapter 13
Chapter 13 : The One Bullying My Maid?
Morning sunlight filtered through the windows of Silver Fir House, waking Room 207. Ryan’s body clock was remarkably precise. He opened his eyes almost at the exact moment before the academy’s morning bell rang. From the room next door came the faint sound of rustling—Cosette was clearly awake as well, tidying her little room as lightly and quietly as she could.
By the time Ryan finished washing up, changed into the deep blue Third Year Lower Division uniform, and stepped out of the washroom, Cosette was already fully dressed. Her maid outfit was immaculate, and her hair had once again been combed into a neat bun. She stood with her hands lowered by her sides, waiting beside the main bedroom door.
There was, however, a faint bluish shadow beneath her eyes. It seemed last night’s “misunderstanding” had kept her from sleeping well, and she looked even more tense than she had the day before.
“Good morning, Master,” she said softly, not daring to meet Ryan’s eyes.
“Mm.” Ryan responded and picked up the textbooks and notes he had prepared on the desk the night before. “We’re going to the dining hall for breakfast, then to the Central Grand Hall. Opening ceremony.”
“Yes, Master.”
The Central Grand Hall was an imposing domed structure large enough to hold several thousand people. By the time Ryan arrived with Cosette, the interior had already been divided into sections by year. The Third Year Lower Division seats were in the middle-front section on the left, with a fairly good view.
Ryan found his seat and sat down. According to the rules, personal attendants were not allowed into the main student seating area. They had to wait together in the “Attendant Waiting Area” marked off at the very back of the hall.
Cosette followed the servants brought by the other noble students—men and women alike, most of them dressed in uniform attendant clothing and carrying themselves with capable professionalism—as they headed to the rear. Among that group of well-trained attendants, many of whom seemed vaguely familiar with one another, she looked especially out of place, like a fledgling bird that had wandered into a flock of cranes. She could only hug the few less important notebooks Ryan had handed to her that morning and shrink into a corner.
Ryan’s gaze swept over the surroundings. Quite a few of his classmates had already arrived and were talking quietly in twos and threes. He could feel certain gazes landing on him now and then, some wary, some disgusted.
Andre Garcia sat not far away, laughing and chatting with several friends. When he saw Ryan, his smile faded slightly. He gave a cold snort and turned away.
Expressionless, Ryan withdrew his gaze, opened 《Advanced Magic Rune Structures》 in his hand, and used the fragmented time before the ceremony began to study in advance. He chose to ignore the looks around him.
First rule of survival: reduce unnecessary attention and conflict.
Though admittedly, the original owner had already done more than enough to make himself hated.
Before long, the melodious sound of bells rang out again, and the hall gradually quieted. The academy’s leaders and teachers filed onto the high platform at the front. At the center stood an elderly man wearing a dark purple robe trimmed in gold, his white hair combed with meticulous precision and his face stern with authority—Edgar Morris, Director of the Lower Magic Division, one of the Empire’s top-ranking mages.
Though advanced in age, his eyes were bright and sharp, and a powerful yet restrained wave of Mana surrounded him. Merely standing there, he made the entire hall fall silent.
The content of the opening ceremony was not especially surprising.
The director first welcomed the new students on behalf of the academy, though they still had to pass the entrance assessment before being formally admitted. He then encouraged the students who had just advanced to second year to cherish their time and solidify their foundations.
Then his gaze shifted toward the section where the third years were seated, and his tone grew even more serious.
“And as for all of you, students of the Third Year Lower Division,” the director’s voice spread clearly to every corner through amplification magic, “this year will be a crucial one in determining the initial direction of your magical path. The advancement assessment at the end of the academic year will not only test what you have learned over the past two years, but will also mark the starting point for your choice of future specialization.”
“The path of magic is as vast as a sea of stars. Some excel at fine control and will move toward magical theory and rune research. Some delight in creation and transformation, and will delve deeply into alchemy and enchantment. Some pursue the union of strength and skill, stepping onto the road of both magic and martial cultivation. Others devote themselves to the mysteries of life and nature, studying healing and natural magic... The academy offers you many possible paths.”
“But before you choose, you must know yourselves clearly.” The director’s gaze seemed able to pierce into people’s hearts. “Where does your talent lie? Where do your interests rest? What kind of person do you wish to become in the future? A scholar buried in books? An adventurer crossing the continent? A battle mage serving the Empire? Or an innovator opening new frontiers?”
“The first month of this term will be your ‘Month of Choice.’ Senior instructors from every discipline will offer guidance classes and lectures, and the relevant sections of the library will be opened to you. You will need to understand the different paths in depth, speak with mentors, and by the end of the month confirm the specialization emphasis for your advancement assessment. This will directly affect the contents of your assessment, your future course arrangements, and even your development after graduation. Treat it seriously.”
The director’s words stirred a slight commotion throughout the hall. The third-year students wore expressions of excitement, solemnity, or confusion.
Choice meant opportunity, but it also meant risk.
Ryan closed the book in his hands, and a thoughtful gleam flashed through the depths of his gray-blue eyes. Choosing a field of specialization... that really was an urgent matter. The original owner’s talent leaned more toward direct Mana control and elemental application, something close to the path of both magic and martial practice, though his personality had made even that look excessively aggressive.
As for Ryan himself, as a transmigrator, he possessed modern ways of thinking and that special ability he had named the Eye of Probability. Perhaps...
Magical theory? That requires a deep understanding of the essence of magic. More suited to research types. The original owner’s foundation is average, and I do not have the time to start gnawing through it from the beginning... Applied alchemy? It needs large amounts of practice and materials, burns money, and accidents are easy. That does not fit the principle of keeping a low profile... Magic and martial dual cultivation? Combat-oriented. Too conspicuous, and it requires a great deal of practical combat training. High risk...
He weighed the options quickly. He needed to advance smoothly, remain as low-profile as possible, and still make use of his own advantages to prepare for future dangers.
Perhaps... something like “Magical Artifact Appraisal and Risk Assessment”? Or “Applied Magic Arrays and Safety Protocols”?
Fields like those were relatively niche and practical, not too flashy, and would let him make reasonable use of some of his predictive advantage. If he really had to deal with family conspiracies or hidden threats inside the academy in the future, knowledge of that sort might be surprisingly effective. The only problem was whether the academy actually offered guidance courses that specialized.
Just as Ryan was immersed in his plans for the future, the director on the platform had already finished speaking and announced the end of the ceremony. Students were to follow their class mentors to their respective classrooms and begin the first lesson of the new term. The attendants could also leave the waiting area to handle various opening-term errands for their masters, such as collecting supplementary supplies for the new semester, or... going to the logistics office to collect new uniforms.
The students began to file out in an orderly manner.
Ryan stood and looked toward the attendant waiting area at the back of the hall, ready to call Cosette over. But at the edge of the crowded waiting section, he saw something that made his brows draw together slightly.
Cosette followed the stream of people out of the waiting area, looking a little lost. The other attendants all seemed to know exactly what they were supposed to do. Some hurried toward the logistics office, while others went in search of their masters. She remembered Ryan having casually mentioned that after the ceremony, if there was time, she could go look at the uniform collection office. So, still hugging those notebooks, she followed the vague signs and the crowd toward the auxiliary building where the logistics office was located.
A fairly long line had already formed outside the uniform collection office, and nearly everyone in it was some family’s servant. Cosette silently took her place at the back. The line crept forward slowly, and quiet conversations drifted around her.
“Did you hear? That freak from the Velt family actually brought a maid with him this year?”
“Really? Ryan Velt? Did he not always refuse attendants? Said they were too much trouble.”
“Who knows. Maybe his family forced one on him. Though that maid of his looks awfully young, and she is pretty enough too... tsk.”
“Shh, lower your voice. But she really does stand out. She kept her head down in the waiting area just now, like she was terribly shy.”
Some of the remarks floated into Cosette’s ears. Her body stiffened slightly, and she lowered her head even further, only hoping it would be her turn soon.
But trouble still found her.
When there were only three or four people ahead of her, a tall male servant in a brown attendant’s uniform came strolling back after apparently having collected something for his master. There was a roguish look on his face.
His lazy gaze swept across the line, then suddenly stopped on Cosette. His eyes lit up, and an ill-intentioned smile curled at the corners of his mouth.
He shoved past the two people in front and planted himself directly in front of Cosette like a small hill, looking down at her.
“Hey, little girl. You are new, aren’t you? I have never seen you before.” The servant’s voice dragged with deliberate insolence. “Which young master do you belong to? Go on, say the name.”
Cosette jumped in fright and instinctively clutched the notebooks tighter against her chest. Like a startled little animal, she shrank her neck and said in a voice as thin as a mosquito’s hum, “I-I am Master Ryan Velt’s maid...”
“Ryan Velt?”
The servant let out a snort of laughter, as if he had just heard the greatest joke in the world. His voice rose abruptly, drawing curious looks from many of the attendants around them. He deliberately swept his gaze around as though announcing some ridiculous discovery to the crowd.
“That Ryan Velt? The one who keeps to himself, looks down on everyone, and always thinks attendants are a nuisance? He would bring a maid? Ha!” He laughed exaggeratedly, then suddenly leaned close to Cosette. “Little sister, lying is not a good habit. Everyone knows Young Master Velt hates having people around him. With how weak you look, like you would fall over in a stiff breeze, why would he take a fancy to you? Did you sneak in from some back corner to freeload off the academy or something?”
His words immediately stirred a low wave of discussion among the surrounding attendants.
It was true. Ryan Velt’s image as a solitary freak had already sunk deep into everyone’s mind. For a timid little maid to suddenly appear at his side was undeniably strange. Quite a few gazes turned toward Cosette again, now laced with suspicion.
All color drained from Cosette’s face, leaving her deathly pale.
She bit down on her lower lip so hard she nearly drew blood, yet she could not force out a single word of rebuttal. His questioning stabbed straight into the place she felt most insecure. She truly did have an unclear background, and she truly did... look utterly useless.
Her habitual weakness and the inferiority carved into her bones left her with only one response. She lowered her head deeply, wishing she could shrink straight into the floor.
“What? Was I right? Cat got your tongue?” Seeing her endure it all so meekly only made the servant bolder. He even reached out a hand, as if to grab her chin. “Let your big brother have a look. That face of yours is pretty good at fooling people. Maybe you really did get in by relying on—”
Smack!
It was not the sound of a slap. Startled, Cosette had backed away so suddenly that one of the notebooks in her arms fell to the floor. She bent down in panic to pick it up, but the servant got there first and planted his sturdy leather boot firmly on the edge of the notebook.
“Oh dear, my mistake,” he said in a false tone of apology, while maliciously grinding his foot and leaving a clear dirty mark on the clean cover. “This thing... do not tell me you stole it too. Tsk. What a pity.”
The attendants around them wore all sorts of expressions.
Some looked uncomfortable, but far more were coldly indifferent, or carried the numbness of people long accustomed to such scenes.
This servant was named Karl, the personal attendant of the eldest son of Viscount Hanson Wood. Because his master’s family had a decent background and close ties with the Garcia family, he had always behaved rather arrogantly in servant circles. Bullying the attendants of noble houses with slightly weaker backgrounds was hardly unusual for him.
No one wanted to bring trouble upon themselves for the sake of some little maid of uncertain origin.
Seeing the stark boot print on the cover, Cosette’s eyes reddened at once. Grievance, fear, and hatred for her own helplessness twisted together inside her. Crouching down, she tried futilely to pull the notebook from beneath that heavy boot and said in a choked voice, “P-Please move your foot...”
“Beg me,” Karl said with an even crueler smile, pressing down harder. “Call me Big Brother Karl and admit you sneaked in, and I might consider it.”
Just then, from beyond the crowd came a voice so flat and emotionless that it somehow made the surrounding air turn cold.
“Your foot seems to be in the wrong place.”
The crowd parted as if pushed aside by some invisible force, automatically opening a path.
Ryan Velt was standing there. At some point, he had already arrived. His gray-blue eyes looked as though they were covered in a thin layer of ice as he stared coldly at Karl. His face showed little expression, but the chill radiating from him was enough to make people’s hearts turn cold.
The triumphant smile on Karl’s face instantly froze. He withdrew his foot almost on instinct, his heart giving a violent leap.
He forced himself to remain calm and pulled out an awkward dry laugh. “Y-Young Master Velt? Why are you here...? I-I was only joking around with this little girl. She said she was your maid, and that... that just did not seem possible, right? Have you not always disliked being waited on?”
It sounded like an explanation, but in truth he was still questioning Cosette’s identity, while subtly bringing up Ryan’s past habits in an attempt to smooth things over.
Ryan did not answer him. He did not even look at him a second time.
His gaze passed directly over Karl and settled on Cosette, who was crouched on the floor with tears trembling in her eyes as she looked up. The moment she saw him, a complicated light burst into her eyes—dependence, grievance, and fear of being scolded all mixed together.
Ryan walked over, bent down, and picked up the notebook stained with the boot mark. He casually patted it twice, but the stain remained stubborn. Only then did he seem to notice that there was still a living person standing nearby, and he turned his gaze to Karl.
“Name.”
The voice remained calm and flat, giving away neither anger nor pleasure.
“I-I am Karl, in service to Young Master Woodgreen...” Karl, unnerved by that look, hurriedly gave his name and background, hoping his master’s name might offer some protection.
“Karl.” Ryan repeated it and nodded. Then, under the stunned eyes of everyone present, he lifted an arm and used the dirty notebook to smack Karl straight across the face—not heavily, but with enough force to make the sound sharp and crisp.
Smack!
The sound rang out loud and clear in the suddenly silent corridor.
Karl’s head snapped to the side. His face burned with pain, but even more than that, he was overwhelmed by the humiliation. His mind buzzed.
“This notebook,” Ryan said slowly as he withdrew his hand, “is academy property. You deliberately damaged academy property. According to Chapter Seven, Article Fifteen of the school regulations, attendants who deliberately damage public property shall, depending on the severity, be punished by a fine or labor discipline, and their master shall bear joint responsibility for supervision.”
“And as for you...” Ryan’s gaze fell on Karl’s face, which had turned pale in an instant. “Your disrespect toward my private property, and the physical harassment you attempted, will be formally reported by me to the academy disciplinary committee. Also—”
“Go back and suggest that your master check his father’s private accounts from last month at the Emerald Courtyard. I happen to be rather sensitive to numbers, and I feel that the odd amount listed under ‘antique restoration expenses’ seems to contain one extra digit. If that accidentally spreads, I imagine it would not sound very good.”
Karl’s face turned completely white.
The school rules, the fines—he could barely endure those. But that latter, veiled threat about his master’s family and the Emerald Courtyard... if the notoriously vicious Velt in front of him really started spreading something, even if it were only rumor, it would be enough to ruin him.
He had never imagined Ryan would be this direct, this merciless, and seemingly in possession of something deadly enough to matter.
“I-I am sorry! Young Master Velt, I was blind! I spoke out of turn! I sincerely apologize to you and this young lady! I was wrong! I truly was wrong!” Karl completely panicked. Ignoring the burning pain in his face, he bowed again and again, speaking incoherently as cold sweat sprang out across his forehead.
But Ryan no longer looked at him at all, as though he were nothing more than an ugly patch of air.
He turned to Cosette, who was still crouched there in a daze, and held out his hand.
“Get up.”
Cosette stared blankly at the hand extended before her. The fingers were long, clean, and clearly jointed.
Then she lifted her eyes to Ryan’s face. He still wore that same cold, expressionless look, yet for some reason, in this moment she felt not the slightest fear. All she felt was warmth.
Trembling, she stretched out her hand and carefully placed her fingertips into his palm.
His hand was slightly cool, yet it pulled her to her feet with absolute steadiness.
“Let’s go.” Ryan released her hand and turned away, as though everything that had just happened were only a small interruption. “We can collect the uniform this afternoon.”
“Yes, Master!” Cosette quickly gathered up all the notebooks and hurried after him.
As she passed the ashen-faced Karl, who looked as though he might collapse at any moment, she did not even dare glance at him again. She simply trotted after that straight-backed figure ahead of her.
Only after they had left the auxiliary logistics building and reached a relatively quiet tree-lined path did Cosette finally gather the courage to speak, her voice small and thick with tears.
“Master... th-thank you. And... I-I am sorry, I caused you trouble again...”
Ryan did not slow his pace. His voice came from ahead, still as flat as ever, betraying no emotion.
“There is no need to apologize. When a dog barks at you, it is not because you threw it a bone.”
He seemed to think of something else, then added one more sentence, one that brushed across Cosette’s heart as lightly as a feather.
“My maid. Since when does anyone else get to decide whether she is real or not?”
Cosette’s steps halted for an instant. Her arms tightened unconsciously around the notebooks, and her heart started pounding hard against her chest.
The heat that had only just faded from her face returned even more fiercely, burning all the way to the tips of her ears.
So... Master did care.
So... being acknowledged, being included within the boundary of what belonged to him, felt like this.
She quickened her pace, almost needing to trot to keep up with Ryan, while sunlight filtered through the leaves and danced across her lowered lashes.
As for Ryan, walking in front, he rubbed his brow without expression.
The Emerald Courtyard... just as expected, it really is tied to the Emerald Merchant Guild. The Wood family line is even more interesting than I thought. But I still have to start studying that specialization selection form this afternoon... what a nuisance.
And as for this girl... it looks like “basic maid survival training” needs to be put on the schedule.
At the very least, she had to learn that when dogs surrounded her and barked, whether she should avoid them—or find the right moment to kick back.