Time slipped like water under a bridge; in a blink, the first day of term arrived.

When I carried breakfast back, Eastern Moon Aixue and Faya were already here, drifting in like sparrows to a warm windowsill. Looked like they were here to mooch again.

Good thing last night’s chaos had me cook extra, like casting a wider net before the tide rolled in.

“Yumigawa-kun, morning—we’re mooching again!” Aixue’s smile came bright as dawn on porcelain.

“Mm, morning, Yumigawa-kun.” Faya’s shy grin fluttered like a pale moth.

“Servant, start breakfast.” Xinuo’s voice was cool as moonlight on lakewater.

“Mm-hmm! Breakfast, breakfast!” Hill bounced like a sparrow pecking at seed.

Xinuo and Hill were already up, clothes fresh as dew, waiting at the table like lilies by a pond.

“Okay.” I set the trays down, then sat beside Xinuo, a lantern’s shadow close to its flame.

“Then—”

“I’m digging in!!!” Her shout popped like a firecracker at noon.

…

We finished eating, clinked the dishes clean like pebbles in a stream, and stepped out of the dorm.

“President Aixue, Faya—good morning!” Voices fluttered around us like swallows.

“Hey, aren’t those the ones who caused a stir yesterday? Who are they, to live in Zhuyue Hall?” Curiosity rustled like wind through bamboo.

“Right! And who’s that snow-haired beauty? She’s stunning—like frost on plum blossoms!”

“Hi! Are you transfers to Egisia Academy?” The ring closed tight, bright as a wreath of chrysanthemums.

We barely left the dorm when a flock of girls surrounded us, a chirping halo like starlings around grain.

“Ladies, we’ve got opening-ceremony duties. Save your questions for after.” Aixue’s elegant smile unfurled like a camellia.

“Oh, pity. Later then.” Regret faded like twilight on tiled roofs.

“Right, President Aixue—go ahead.” Their respect settled like calm rain.

“Mm-hmm.” Faces eased, and the crowd scattered like petals on a breeze.

“Okay, don’t waste time—get to the hall. The ceremony’ll start soon.” Faya’s words nudged us like a shepherd’s crook.

“Got it. See you later, President Aixue, Faya.” Farewells drifted like incense smoke.

“See you.” Her back slipped away like a leaf on current.

Soon the chatter thinned to silence, and the path cooled, a courtyard after rain.

“Then, we go.” I stepped out, heart steady as a drum under silk.

“Okay.” Feet tapped toward the academy district, a small procession like cranes crossing a bridge.

…

On the road.

“By the way, Eastern Moon Aixue—where’s the ceremony held?” My question rose like a kite tugging its string.

“In the main auditorium. Look—there.” Her finger pointed ahead, pale as a reed, toward a sanctified hall that stood like a chapel.

“See it?”

“Yeah.” The sight anchored in me like a bell’s tone at dusk.

“Then let’s hurry.”

“Right.” We walked, a handful of fish slipping upstream toward light.

Just before the doors:

“Right!” Aixue turned, memory flashing like sun on a blade. “Yumigawa-kun, no need to call me Eastern Moon Aixue. Like Faya—just call me Aixue.”

“Oh, okay, Aixue—uh!” A stab of pain bit my waist like a crab’s pinch; it jolted me head to toe.

“Xiao Nuo, what are you doing?” I turned; Xinuo’s pale hand drifted away, smooth as porcelain, guilty as a cat with milk.

“Nothing. I just felt like pinching my Servant’s waist.” Her smile was beautiful and chill, a crescent moon behind thin clouds.

“Boss… my condolences.” Hill’s pity fell soft as spring rain.

“Uh, fine…” The complaint stuck in my throat like a fishbone—bitter, small, pathetic.

“Yumigawa-kun, what’s wrong? You look pale.” Faya’s concern landed gentle as a dove.

“Nothing. I’ll be fine.” I rubbed the spot; Xinuo’s pinch had weight like a smith’s hammer—hurt like blazes.

“All right, don’t waste time. Move.” Xinuo tugged me inside, a silk leash pulling a stubborn dog.

Inside the hall.

“Wow!” The word flew from me like a skylark breaking from grass. The place was enormous—truly vast.

Rows and rows of seats rolled out like wheat fields. Most were filled; by rough count, tens of thousands. Up front, a lavish stage gleamed like a palace gate.

Maybe it was the magic devices humming like bees; the air sat perfect, and the floor shone clean, a stone mirror untouched by dust.

Overall, the hall breathed calm and serene, a lake at dawn. So many bodies, yet no clamor—only quiet like snow falling.

“No wonder it’s an heiress academy—the etiquette’s high.” Xinuo’s glance swept like a silk fan.

“Yeah. Faya, take Miss Xinuo, Yumigawa-kun, and Hill to find seats. I need to help with the ceremony.” Aixue’s voice moved like smooth jade.

“You’re working hard, Aixue.” Respect rose in me like warm incense.

“Uh…” She startled, then steadied, a blush blooming like cherry petals along her cheek. “It’s fine. Hurry and get seats, or you’ll have none.”

She left without looking back, steps light as wind on rice.

Faya chuckled, bells in spring. “Didn’t expect Aixue to get shy. Yumigawa-kun, Miss Xinuo, Hill—come. Let’s grab seats.”

“Okay.” We found places near the front and settled, waiting for the ceremony like birds perched on a branch.

Ten minutes later.

The hall’s lights vanished in a breath, darkness pooling like ink; every beam gathered on the grand stage like spears to a banner.

A poised beauty walked out, figure and face both striking, eyes sweeping the sea of faces like a tide. “Good morning, everyone. I’m Melusa Binei, current Dean of Egisia Academy. I now declare—the 105th Opening Ceremony—begins!” Her voice rang like bronze.

She paused, then continued, steady as rain: “In this new term, I’m glad to see everyone so full of spirit…”

After a while.

“Why’s Dean Melusa talking so long?! I’m bored!” Hill squirmed, a sparrow beating wings in a cage.

Faya returned, smile warm as tea steam. “Hehe, it’s tradition every time. Dean Melusa doesn’t really want to talk this much, but tradition is tradition.”

“Aixue, you’re back. But there’s no seat left. What a pity.” Faya glanced around, regret wilting like a rose.

“It’s fine. I’ll stand.” Aixue shook her head, easy as running water over stones.

“No, there’s still one seat. Hup!” I scooped Hill up and set her on my lap, like placing a kitten on a cushion. “See? Now we’ve got one.”

“This is embarrassing. Hill, she—”

“It’s fine, it’s fine! Boss’s lap’s comfier than a chair!” Hill grinned, cat-bright.

“Then thank you, Yumigawa-kun and Hill.” Aixue’s gratitude glimmered like dew.

“No need.” My answer drifted simple, a leaf in shallow current.

A few rows behind Yumigawa Sumeragi and the others sat an elven girl, ears sharp as new leaves.

“Hmph! Laugh while you can!” Diyue’er watched my smile, fists clenched tight, knuckles white as frost.