Under the class’s name, Siman wouldn’t refuse.
Lenny understood well: Siman aspired to be a true knight, and for her, collective interests always came before personal ones.
The noble sense of honor forged a millennium ago in battles against the followers of the Demon God had long faded within Saint Louis—but Siman embodied it perfectly.
If Siman voted yes,
Hale would be bidding a final farewell to this Theology Day event.
Truth be told, Lenny knew Hale might not have skipped class just for teasing Christine. Yet three years ago, when Hale’s reputation crumbled, he *had* been a frequent absentee.
But now, Siman hesitated.
After hearing Lenny’s words, she—who’d been annoyed by Hale’s lateness—had meant to agree outright.
After all, it was a shared resource. If Hale wasn’t coming, it should go to someone else in need.
But the moment she was about to say “yes”…
Siman faltered again.
*Why is Hale late today?*
She recalled their parting yesterday.
Hale had said he was leaving Saint Louis.
His expression had been utterly serious. If her cousin truly intended to leave… why?
Had his tarnished reputation made Saint Louis unbearable? So he might as well skip class since he was leaving anyway?
It was his own doing. But as his cousin, if he finally saw reality, that showed a shred of self-awareness—
and perhaps a chance to turn back.
If he truly realized that, Siman would feel genuinely relieved.
*Should I really give his spot away now…?*
Subconsciously, she hoped to wait a little longer.
The sky was overcast; heavy rain had started midway through her commute that morning.
Given Hale’s habit of cutting it close, if he’d gone back for an umbrella, he’d be late—but not absent.
Fifteen minutes remained until the homeroom teacher led them in.
In a class of thirty, the vote would take five minutes.
*Wait another five?*
Siman glanced at the wall clock.
*I’ll wait ten more minutes for Hale. No harm done.*
Lenny was slightly taken aback. Siman shouldn’t care about Hale—she usually seized any chance to argue with him. She should’ve voted to teach him a lesson instantly.
But…
Her silence left *him* awkward.
As a count’s son, Lenny dared not press her. He gave an awkward chuckle and turned to the class. “Siman’s vote as monitor carries weight. Let her cast the final one.”
Voting began.
Unsurprisingly, it was unanimous: if Hale didn’t show, randomly assign his spot.
But before Siman could vote, arguments erupted over *how* to draw lots.
Only one spot would open.
Of thirty students, barely ten had secured places for Theology Day.
The remaining twenty faced too many mouths for too few spots.
Siman ignored the noise, eyes locked on the clock.
Eight minutes.
Seven.
Five…
Hale still hadn’t come. She stared at the classroom door.
She knew she had to decide.
*Why isn’t he here?*
Was he really skipping class to leave Saint Louis sooner?
As the second son of House Faxius… fleeing?
Siman remembered ten years ago. After speaking with Hale’s gravely ill mother—a graceful woman—she stepped out of the room.
There stood Hale in a tiny suit, at the corridor’s turn.
His gaze fixed on the door.
Yet he made no move to enter.
His dark eyes were clear, yet held an emotion she couldn’t grasp then.
She thought he was being mature. In pain.
She went to hug him—but *he* patted *her* back as she wept for her dying aunt.
She heard him say:
“There’s nothing to be done, Sister Siman. Don’t be sad. This was all a fate long decided.”
*Fate…*
The first time she’d heard that word from Hale.
She’d read it in the family Bible, heard it from tutors—but never felt its weight
like when Hale spoke it.
*When exactly… did he change?*
“Enough. I’m overthinking. Maybe he was just trying to sound cool back then. He’s always had a knack for deceiving naive girls. Pity he never grew out of it—still the same boy.”
The oppressive gloom in her chest pushed her to reject him.
*Fine. I’ll vote yes.*
…
Three minutes before entry.
Hale still hadn’t appeared. Under Lenny’s arrangement, the spot would be drawn by lottery.
After voting yes, Siman felt slightly dazed—
but watching the clock hands and hearing “Prepare to enter,”
she thought:
*Never mind. He’s leaving Saint Louis anyway.*
*If he wants to attend, he will. If not, so be it.*
She would stay. Graduate from the White Knights as a probationary knight. Join the Inquisition Bureau. Serve a few years. Then apply to transfer to her father’s jurisdiction.
As the only daughter of House Feng,
the legacy was hers. Though the Papal Dominion had never seen a female general, she’d never idle like Hale.
She had missions. Responsibilities.
*Isn’t it better if he leaves?*
Once gone, she wouldn’t worry. Out of sight, out of mind.
She hadn’t fulfilled her aunt’s last words—but she’d tried. If Hale refused to act, no amount of pushing would help.
*Yes. Exactly.*
Siman rose and followed the selected students toward the auditorium.
Lenny tried to speak to her. She ignored him like air.
It left him seething—
but not anxious. *No rush.*
Hale’s absence meant trouble. As long as he was gone, Lenny was pleased.
He’d handle Siman slowly later. Win her over. He had time.
Then—minutes later—his good mood shattered.
Because the moment they reached the auditorium,
everyone—Lenny, Siman, classmates, even the homeroom teacher—
stared in disbelief at that familiar black-haired young man.
There, center stage behind the podium’s curtain, Hale was chatting amiably with a pure maiden in a white-and-gold gown, crowned with a floral wreath.
