OHNIR – Chapter 28

Chapter 28: The Verdict

Lewis fell silent for a moment, then pursed his lips. He did as he was told and raised his head, sighing as he gave her a slight bow. "Lady Gloria... we were discourteous."

He was the son of a count, after all, and managed to maintain his composure. The two beside him, however, were not nearly as calm and couldn't hide their panicked expressions. The first-year student, in particular, was staring at the smiling Kelusta next to Gloria, his eyes practically bulging out of his head.

He was certain this was the commoner girl, the one who slept through every history class in a different position—an image so memorable it was impossible to forget. How could he possibly have mistaken her for someone else?

But now she was standing right next to the duke's daughter... H-how was that possible!

Whatever mental breakdown and shattering of worldview the young noble was experiencing, no one paid him any mind. Gloria glanced at the seemingly half-dead Musen behind the group. After a moment's hesitation, she ignored Lewis for the time being and turned to Kelusta. "Go check on that boy."

Kelusta had been waiting for those words. The moment Gloria spoke, she nodded and hurried over to Musen's side.

As she passed Lewis, the young noble, his hands still bound, turned his head slightly and stared intently into Kelusta's brilliant, honey-gold eyes.

The brown-haired girl, however, didn't notice his gaze. She simply knelt beside Musen and carefully helped the boy, whose eyes were shut tight, to sit up against the wall. As she moved him, she must have touched one of his wounds, because Musen let out a muffled groan even in his unconscious state.

Kelusta sheepishly drew back her hand, her gaze falling on his shoulder, which was exposed through his torn clothes. The boy's skin was a sickly pale, making the wound there look all the more frighteningly vivid. The pooled blood made every vein stand out, and a large, faint blue patch lay beneath the purplish-red bruise. The scraped skin, stained with dirt, was slowly oozing blood. The sight made Kelusta's own shoulder begin to ache in sympathy.

Her face twisted in a brief grimace. She felt around in a hidden pocket of her dress and managed to pull out a handkerchief.

Thank goodness for the fine habits of the nobility. Gloria's clothes always had a clean handkerchief tucked into them after being laundered. If it had been Kelusta's own ragged dress... she probably would have had to just wipe Musen's wound with her sleeve.

Her slender, fair fingers traced a circle in the air, and the water mage drew a stream of clean water onto the handkerchief. Kelusta glanced furtively toward Gloria. Seeing that she didn't seem to be paying attention, Kelusta confidently pressed the damp cloth to Musen's wound and began to carefully clean away the grime that could cause an infection.

Not far away, Gloria, who had seen everything perfectly clearly, withdrew her gaze from Kelusta with a hint of displeasure. Her sapphire-blue eyes, darkened by her mood, seemed deeper than ever—like a tranquil, deep sea, hiding unknown dangers within its depths.

Bronk felt his legs about to give way.

Although the eldest daughter of the Silentdis Duke had a reputation in the capital for being gentle and elegant, everyone knew she was not to be trifled with. Aside from the incident with Avia, no one had ever heard of her clashing with anyone, but they all knew the truth—

Public appearances were one thing, but behind the scenes, what noble could claim their hands were completely clean? This was especially true for Gloria, who was often praised for having "her father's bearing."

In fact, the better a powerful noble's reputation, the more it meant they handled their unsavory affairs flawlessly...

Now, Bronk could only pray that Lady Gloria would show them mercy for Count Hippol's sake and not punish them severely just for bad-mouthing the Charles family.

As for Musen, he didn't believe the duke's daughter would raise a fuss over an unclean little beggar like him. Nobles always had privileges that put them above the school rules. As long as Musen was still alive, the worst they would get was a few meaningless demerits.

"My lady."

While Bronk was lost in his anxious thoughts, Lewis suddenly spoke again. He gave Gloria a deep bow, and when he looked up, his demeanor no longer seemed quite as humble as before.

Gloria's eyes shifted slightly, and she raised a delicate eyebrow, clearly having noticed the subtle change.

"It was indeed our fault for presumptuously spreading rumors and disrespecting Miss Avia," Lewis said, looking at Gloria with a sincere tone. "However, I must be bold and inform you, my lady... that neither Bronk nor I attended the tea party. This proves that everything he said just now was merely hearsay. We are willing to visit Count Charles and Miss Avia to apologize in person. We hope that you will forgive our errors on this account."

His plea for mercy sounded perfectly reasonable, yet a long silence followed his words.

Even Kelusta paused in her tending of Musen's wound, turning to look with a mixture of confusion and nervousness at Gloria, whose expression had suddenly darkened.

After a long moment, just as Bronk was starting to glance at his friend, wondering what he could have possibly said to elicit such a reaction from the duke's daughter, Gloria finally spoke. Each word seemed laced with shards of ice, sending an involuntary chill seeping into their bones.

"So, why didn't you attend the tea party?" she asked coolly. "The invitations that were sent out should have included a place for you, the heir to the Hippol family."

The corners of Lewis's lips lifted into a submissive smile. "My mother and I went to visit Duchess Amirium," he answered respectfully. "As you know, Lady Gloria, my grandmother is getting on in years and has no children to keep her company. As it happened, she sent a personal letter that day asking my mother to bring me for a visit. I did not wish to disobey an elder, so I had no choice but to decline the princess's invitation."

Duchess Amirium?

Kelusta blinked in confusion. For some reason, she could clearly see Gloria's expression darken even further at the mention of that name.

Another suffocating silence fell.

At the center of everyone's attention, the silver-haired noble girl remained silent, a dark mist seeming to gather in her blue eyes. After a long pause, she finally spoke, her expression unreadable. "All of you swore an oath to the Goddess of Light before enrolling. I trust you are all perfectly clear on the school's regulations."

This was it—the verdict.

Bronk and the other young noble hastily lowered their heads. Lewis, however, merely raised an eyebrow. His hands, bound by chains of dark magic, hung loosely behind him, and his rigid posture suddenly relaxed.

"...As for bullying a fellow student, I will report it to the school, and you will be punished according to the severity of the offense. However, the matter of slandering the Charles family is not so easy to judge," Gloria said coolly. "While your words were somewhat excessive... Miss Avia's own behavior at the tea party was indeed improper. That she has invited criticism is her own doing."

Hearing this, everyone reacted differently. The young noble stood frozen as if struck by lightning. Bronk looked up in delighted surprise. Beside them, Lewis let his smile fade and gave Gloria a humble bow.

Kelusta, however, frowned. She looked at the silver-haired noble with a strange feeling, her fingertips unconsciously tightening on Musen's arm.

"A personal visit... won't be necessary." Gloria waved her hand, dispelling the chains of dark magic. She gave Lewis an emotionless glance before continuing, "Each of you is to write a letter of apology and have it delivered to the Charles Marquis's estate. I will not inquire into this matter further. I hope that in the future, you will remember to watch your words and not repeat today's mistake."

Lewis flexed his wrists, smiled, and placed his right hand over his heart before bowing to Gloria once more. "Yes, I will heed your ladyship's counsel."

---

After the three nobles had left, Gloria slowly walked over to Kelusta. She looked down at the still-unconscious Musen and asked softly, "How is he?"

Kelusta shook her head. "He has many wounds... We should take him to the medical room. I think I saw one of them break his arm."

The brown-haired girl pouted and muttered, "I can't stand the way they act, as if they couldn't care less about being punished..."

Gloria was silent for a moment. Taking advantage of her height, she gently patted Kelusta's head. "I won't let something like that happen to you," she said softly.

Kelusta froze. She lowered the elbows that had been resting on her knees and glanced around. Seeing that they were alone, she broke into a mischievous grin, shot out her hands, and wrapped them around Gloria's legs.

Gloria: "...!"

The duke's daughter's cool composure instantly shattered. Her eyes widened in surprise at Kelusta's overly familiar gesture. When she recovered, she immediately tried to push her away, her voice a mixture of exasperation and flustered annoyance. "What are you doing? ...Let go. This is highly improper."

Afraid that Kelusta might lose her balance and fall, she didn't dare push too hard. The brown-haired girl took advantage of this, rubbing her cheek against Gloria's skirt and saying with a grin, "Just showing how much I like you, Senior."

"...Sigh." Gloria poked her cheek in resignation. "Alright, I know you like me... Now get up. I need to contact Wend and have him bring someone from the medical room to treat this student."

This was serious business. Kelusta obediently released her, wrapped her arms around her knees, and tilted her head up, curious to see how Gloria would contact Wend.

Could it be by carrier pigeon?

While Kelusta's imagination ran wild, Gloria was already in motion. She didn't whistle for a carrier pigeon as Kelusta had fantasized. Instead, she took out an old-fashioned mirror with intricate, complex patterns that looked strangely familiar.

Kelusta blinked in astonishment.

Why did it look like... a miniature version of the magic mirror from the library?

Just as she was staring wide-eyed, waiting to see if Gloria was truly about to use the mirror to communicate, she felt a sudden grip on her arm.

"—Don't..."

A weak voice reached her. Kelusta looked down in surprise to find that Musen had woken up at some point. He blinked wearily, his night-dark eyes fixed on her as he said insistently, "I don't want to go to the medical room..."

"Ah, you're awake!" Kelusta said, startled. She tried to reason with him. "But your arm—"

Her words died in her throat. The brown-haired girl suddenly realized something. Her gaze shifted downward, and she stared, stunned, at the hand gripping her own arm.

She frowned in confusion, slowly met Musen's gaze, and hesitantly finished her sentence. "...is fine?"

Musen pressed his lips together, averted his gaze, and said quietly, "It's fine."

"It certainly doesn't look broken," Gloria said. She had put the mirror away at some point. She glanced with faint displeasure at Musen's hand on Kelusta's arm, but after a pause, she said nothing about it, her composure intact. "Are you sure you don't need to go to the medical room? You seem to be seriously injured."

Musen turned his head to stare at her warily, his ink-black eyes holding no light. Gloria frowned slightly, suppressing a vague sense of unease, but her expression remained a gentle and elegant smile.

After a long moment, the black-haired boy finally spoke, his voice hoarse and stiff. "I don't need to... Thank you. I can get back on my own."

With that, he struggled to stand, but the movement must have pulled at another wound. His body swayed, and just as he was about to fall, Kelusta instinctively reached out to steady him. But in doing so, she inadvertently pulled his center of gravity toward herself—

Kelusta froze as his body—thinner and smaller than her own due to severe malnutrition—tumbled into her arms.

When a merciless "Ding! Gloria's affection -3" sounded in her mind, Kelusta met the silver-haired girl's deep blue eyes, which had suddenly turned bone-chillingly cold. She felt like she was about to shatter.

As expected, male capture targets were all bastards. You couldn't get tangled up with them in the slightest.

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