"Sorry, Lady Adelaide."

A first-year stood at the doorway, head bowed like a wilted lily after rain.

"Princess Mira left as soon as noon break began. We don't know where she went..."

At that, Adelaide’s spirit dipped like a thin cloud, yet she soothed first, warm as tea. "It’s alright. This isn’t Junior Sando’s fault. Please don’t apologize."

It was her fourth visit to Mira’s classroom, yet she hadn’t met Mira even once, chasing a shadow beyond a door.

As vice president, only the noon hour wasn’t swallowed by duty. Whenever she came for Mira, the girl slipped away like mist.

Even so, Adelaide held fast, a lantern steady in wind.

"Anisa, can you take me around the courtyard? Maybe we’ll meet her."

"No, Young Lady."

Anisa refused, a chill breeze folded into her tone.

"The physician has repeated the need for your noon rest. Please cherish your body."

"...Mm."

As Anisa said, Adelaide’s state looked dim these days, faint dark circles pooling like bruised petals at her eyes.

Seeing Lady Adelaide so worn, the junior’s gaze trembled like dew.

She hesitated, then tugged a breath and called out as Adelaide turned to leave, a thread catching silk.

"A-actually, we told her you might come at noon, but..."

She paused, then drew courage like a diver at the edge.

"But she still runs out every noon—"

—as if she’s choosing to avoid you on purpose!

Remembering that indignant note lifted for her, Adelaide’s mood cracked open like a window to light.

She handled files with one hand, while her mind set pieces like chess under a lantern.

"Lady Adelaide, here’s the revised list for the exchange banquet. Please review it."

"Mm. Thank you."

She took the list and skimmed it, her eyes sweeping like a brush over fresh ink.

The exchange banquet followed the magic aptitude appraisal. All second-years were invited. Its purpose was blunt—to break ice. Like-minded students would be grouped, meet over dinner, and lay a foundation for three years.

It wasn’t grand, but the council’s work was fussy, picking seatmates like grains from chaff.

Still, that fit Adelaide’s hand like a loom.

Her gaze settled on Mira’s name. She ticked it, sealing it like a letter.

Two days later, Sunday night, the banquet opened on the dot, lights blooming like lotus.

Samir and Adelaide gave brief remarks; then the hall loosened into free mingling, voices rising like sparrows and drifting.

While everyone ate and chatted, Adelaide sat in a quiet corner, a stone by a stream.

After stepping down from the stage, she alone didn’t seek anyone, a lantern set aside.

"Tired?"

Samir came to her, handing a glass of red, dusk caught in crystal. Anisa read the air and stepped back, space opening like a clear path.

"Thanks."

Adelaide sipped, her brows pinching like a string drawn tight. The taste bit like a bitter plum.

She hated red wine of any kind, thorns under silk she rarely let show.

But tonight was different; any storm on her face wouldn’t be blamed on the wine.

"Still thinking about Mira?"

"Mm..."

She set the glass down and looked to a sky pricked with stars. Moonlight washed her hair into a beautiful, melancholy silver-blue.

"Your Highness Samir, do you think... I’m a good sister?"

"I have no right to answer that for her."

Adelaide clicked her tongue inwardly, a pebble tapping a cup.

Of the three capture targets, he was the densest log. A girl laid it out this far, and he still wouldn’t comfort her. In the "script," the heroine only cleared his route on pure protagonist aura.

Samir added, steady as a river, "So ask her yourself—whether or not the answer is what you want."

"...You’re right."

She fell silent, then let out a wry breath. "Mira’s here, yet I’m the one starting to run—"

—Clang.

Her words snapped as a crash ripped through the hall like a drum. It came from the nobles’ table, a boat capsized on linen. Adelaide and Samir hurried over and found Mira before the overturned spread; across from her stood a red-haired man in full military dress.

"Mira Izabella, you’re real arrogant. With that little bit of magic talent, you don’t think you’re a royal princess, do you?"

"If someone with a mere ‘Medium’ affinity can inherit the Berlick name, then I am more than worthy."

"You—!"

The redhead glared daggers, his hangers-on barking like courtyard dogs.

"Mira, Young Lord Berlick took pity on your lack of connections and tried to introduce you around. If you won’t be grateful, fine, but you smear House Berlick’s record?"

"That’s right, you cursed orphan. Don’t think one Belior surname lets you step on the Council’s head!"

Mira arched a brow, eyes catching frost like a blade.

"Oh? Then tell me—what can the Council do to me, the betrothed of the First Crown Prince?"

"Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you find out—"

"—Please, everyone, calm down!"

Adelaide cut in, a fan snapping between sparks.

"Adelaide?" Berlick spotted her and snorted. "The Douglas Family’s young lady isn’t here to speak for the Belior ‘sister,’ is she?"

"You’re out of line, Berlick."

Samir frowned, but Adelaide shook her head, staying his blade like a hand on steel.

"It’s alright." She bowed to Berlick, humility soft as rain. "I’m very sorry, but I hope Young Lord Berlick will consider my friendship with your father and overlook Mira’s lapse."

Berlick’s punch landed in cotton. Samir patted his shoulder, warning with a look sharp as a hawk. With no step to climb down, he huffed and turned away, fire doused by rain.

Berlick was settled; one knot untied, one still tight.

Adelaide turned toward Mira, only to see her already leaving, a swallow slipping past the net.

She hurried after, wheels whispering like wind.

"Mira!"

At her name, the golden-haired girl halted. In that brief beat, Adelaide caught her wrist, a ribbon snared mid-flight.

Skin met skin, and she felt recoil and tremor, like a skittish fawn under moonlight.

"Let go."

"No. I won’t."

Adelaide’s voice misted, rain pleading against paper windows. "Mira... please, don’t hide from your sister anymore, okay?"

The girl didn’t answer, so Adelaide pressed on, a river forcing past stones. "I know, Mira. You were imprisoned in that castle all these years. It must have hurt. I’m sorry I couldn’t help then, but it’s different now—"

"—Who told you I was imprisoned?"

"Eh?"

The tremor vanished, and her hand was flung aside, a branch shaking off snow.

"From the start, I chose to stay there."

She turned and looked down at Adelaide in her wheelchair, cold light flickering in sea-blue eyes like winter glass.

"Stop flattering yourself, Adelaide von Douglas—"

Then the golden-haired girl said it before everyone, her voice ringing like a bell-blade.

—you are not worthy to be my sister.