Chapter 49 : Chapter 49
Chapter 49 : Public Opinion
Cecilia stopped walking.
She turned her head slightly, her blue eyes sweeping across the three boys’ faces. Her gaze was gentle.
“Thank you for your concern,” she said softly. “I will adapt to life at the academy as soon as possible.”
With that, she stepped forward. The white-gold hem of her skirt brushed against Robert Fischer’s trouser leg, and the boy instinctively stepped back half a pace.
The tall boy tried to say something else, but Ilis had already followed. The black-haired girl made no unnecessary movements; she simply walked quietly. Yet the crowd that had gathered seemed to part as if pushed aside by an invisible force.
Ryan watched them leave the classroom.
The corridor was brighter. Cecilia’s golden hair almost seemed to melt under the daylight.
“…Her Highness is really gentle.”
The voice drifted from behind him, deliberately lowered but clear enough to hear.
“Yes. When she answered the question just now, she did not put on airs at all…”
“And she is… incredibly beautiful, right? Like a doll.”
“More than beautiful. Did you hear those numbers she mentioned? I could not even follow them…”
“That is what true royal education looks like.”
A burst of quiet laughter followed.
“But… has that Velt been unusually quiet lately?”
“You noticed too? Ever since the class division, he seems like a completely different person.”
“How could he not behave himself? Her Highness the Princess is here now. He used to provoke Miss Eleanor without hesitation. Now?”
“Hah… he only dares to bully someone straightforward like the Duke’s daughter. When it comes to the royal family, would he still dare?”
“I heard about that Garcia incident. He just took advantage of a loophole…”
“Just luck. Now that Her Highness is here, let us see if he still dares to play any tricks.”
“That is true. He has been rather well-behaved these past few days…”
The voices gradually faded, blending into the noise at the other end of the corridor.
A bird chirped outside the window. A gray sparrow landed on the drooping branch of a plane tree, tilting its head as it pecked at its feathers. When it flapped its wings and flew away, several dry leaves fell with it.
The leaves spun slowly past the window frame, circled once on the stone floor, and came to rest.
Ryan turned and walked toward the stairwell.
His canvas shoulder bag swayed lightly with each step. The tools inside bumped together with a faint, rhythmic clink.
The westering sunlight stretched his shadow long across the mottled wall, its blurred edge dragging over the corridor pillars, window frames, and the thin layer of dust gathered along the base of the wall.
His footsteps were swallowed by the rising noise of the hallway. Classroom doors opened and closed in the distance as more students poured out, their conversations washing across the stone floor like a tide.
As he descended the stairs, he heard the faint scratching of a quill on parchment above—someone was still in the classroom finishing their notes.
At the corner, the bell of the clock tower rang.
The dull toll penetrated the stone walls and echoed through the stairwell, once, then again. The lingering resonance stretched long before finally dissolving into the monotonous sound of boots scraping against stone steps.
The clamor of the dining hall spread like a thick blanket, smothering every subtle sound.
Students carrying trays squeezed through the crowded aisles. Steam from the stew mingled with the smell of baked bread, sweat, and cheap spices.
Ryan walked to a seat in the corner.
The table stood against the wall. The paint on its surface had peeled away in patches, revealing the dark grain of the wood beneath.
He had just set down his tray when an unusual disturbance arose from the entrance of the dining hall.
Ryan did not look up. He speared a piece of overcooked carrot with his fork and put it into his mouth.
The carrot was very sweet. It had been cooked too long and dissolved on his tongue.
The disturbance spread outward.
Like ripples after a stone dropped into water, it gradually expanded from the entrance to the entire dining hall.
The volume of conversation fell, replaced by hushed whispers and the soft scraping of chairs being moved.
Ryan chewed the carrot slowly, his gaze resting on the edge of his plate. A thin crack ran along the rim of the white porcelain, and stains had seeped into it, impossible to wash away.
Footsteps approached.
Not the heavy sound of students’ hard leather shoes, but the lighter, softer tap of a different kind of heel against the stone floor.
The rhythm was steady, neither hurried nor slow. The interval between each step was so precise that it might have been measured with a metronome.
Ryan speared a piece of potato.
The white-gold hem of a skirt entered the edge of his vision. Even in the dim light of the dining hall, the satin fabric gleamed with a gentle pearly sheen, swaying lightly with each step.
Then came the calves wrapped in pure white tights, and the small pair of polished lady’s shoes.
Cecilia Ishtar stopped beside the table diagonally across from him.
That table had originally been occupied by four second-year girls. They stood up almost at the same time, their movements so hurried that one of them nearly knocked over her cup of water.
The trays were quickly gathered. The chairs scraped sharply as they were shoved back beneath the table.
“S-Sorry, Your Highness…” one of the girls stammered, her face flushed red.
It was obvious that news of the princess enrolling in the academy had already spread throughout the entire school during the morning. Even students who were not in Ryan’s class now knew about it.
Cecilia inclined her head slightly.
“There is no need to worry.”
Her voice was not loud, yet it carried clearly through the suddenly quiet dining hall.
The four girls hurried away with their trays like startled rabbits.
Students at nearby tables instinctively lowered their voices as well. Some stole quick glances toward the corner before turning away again.
Ilis stepped forward and wiped the surface of the chair and table with a handkerchief she had brought with her. After finishing, she stepped aside and stood with her hands lowered.
Cecilia sat down.
Her skirt spread gracefully, like a white camellia blooming upon the rough wooden table.
A dining hall attendant hurried over, bending deeply at the waist.
“Your Highness, what would you like? The kitchen can prepare something separately for you—”
“There is no need,” Cecilia said. “The same as everyone else will do.”
The attendant froze for a moment, then nodded rapidly. “Y-Yes, of course! It will be ready immediately!”
He turned and ran toward the kitchen, his steps almost unsteady.
Ryan continued eating his stew. The potato had been boiled too long. Its outer layer had already dissolved, while the center remained slightly firm.
He chewed slowly, the tip of his fork making faint scraping sounds against the plate.
Across from him, Ilis was still standing.
The black-haired girl’s gaze was lowered, fixed on a stain beside the table leg—a dark mark left long ago by spilled soup that had dried into the wood.
Under the yellowish light of the dining hall, her profile looked even paler. One could almost see the faint bluish veins beneath her skin.
The attendant soon returned with a tray.
The food itself was the same as what the other students received: stew, black bread, a small dish of pickled vegetables, and a cup of water.
But the utensils were clearly different.
The white porcelain plate was trimmed with a gold rim. The water glass was engraved crystal. The bread rested in a small woven basket lined with a linen napkin.
Cecilia picked up a silver spoon with elegant composure. She scooped up a spoonful of stew and brought it to her lips.
She chewed.
Swallowed.
Her expression did not change in the slightest.
Gradually, the atmosphere in the dining hall returned to normal.
Conversations resumed, though the volume remained at least thirty percent lower than before. From time to time, someone would glance toward that corner, only to quickly avert their eyes.