Magic Academy's Bastard Instructor - Chapter 218

Chapter 218: Nacreous Snowmelt [1]

Vanitas understood well enough that those who were at the pinnacle of power often harbored with them a certain… eccentricity.

It was the nature of those who bore immense strength. Some sort of odd detachment that separated them from ordinary men.

But even so, Friedrich’s reaction unsettled him. To lose his only son and not shed a single tear, to stand there without so much as a tremor in his voice, Vanitas couldn’t help but find it cold.

Though he had seen the brief hesitation on the duke’s face upon witnessing Sigmund’s headless body, that was all.

Just hesitation.

Beyond that moment, Friedrich had moved on. He faced forward as though the death of his heir was no different from the death of any other man under his command.

Nevertheless, it wasn’t Vanitas’s business to pry.

“I still have much to learn.”

Because unlike Friedrich, he was still soft inside. No matter how much was taken from him, the wounds of losing those he loved never hardened into calluses.

Perhaps that was what it meant to remain human.

“….”

To never grow fully numb to grief.

* * *

The howl of the wind, the biting frost, the warm hidden underneath layers of snow, and the long, sleepless nights. Many of these were still foreign to Selena.

She had grown up in the Theocracy, where the land knew only two seasons: sun and rain. Life there was sheltered, predictable, and in a mannerly order for Selena, with maids and clerics tending to her every need.

But now, her life was very much different.

Ever since that day, Selena had been unable to sleep properly. Her nights were restless, and each time her eyes closed, she would wake up again and feel her heart pound for reasons she could not explain.

“Mnh….”

Her throat felt dry. She pushed the blanket off her body and rose from the bed, her baggy nightgown swaying as she moved. Reaching for the door, she opened it carefully and stepped out into the cold halls of the Glade manor.

“…?”

Not far away, Margaret stood on watch. The sound of the door grabbed her attention, and she turned quickly toward the source.

“Sain—Selena?” Margaret caught herself mid-word.

Selena pressed her lips together, giving a small nod. “.…I couldn’t sleep.”

“You shouldn’t roam the halls at this hour,” Margaret reminded. “Did you forget what the Duke told us?”

“Ah, right…” Selena muttered, her hand brushing absently against the folds of her nightgown.

Ever since the leyline’s appearance, strict protocols had been put in place throughout the manor, especially for those deemed vulnerable. The influence of the leyline caused servants to have strange experiences. Reports came in, hearing voices of the dead, cries of loved ones long gone, or sweet whispers that seemed to call them into the dark.

Whether truth or superstition, the rules were simple. No one was to leave their chambers after nightfall. The risk of wandering the halls when the leyline’s illusory effects were too great.

Many claimed that once you stepped out, there was a chance you might see more than shadows.

Selena bit her lip. “I suppose… I just wanted some water. But it seems even that isn’t allowed anymore.”

Margaret’s expression softened. “I’ll fetch you water, then. Stay by the door until I return.

“….Okay.”

Selena nodded, watching Margaret’s retreating figure.

Despite the storm of turmoil in her mind, she had been fortunate with her hosts. Both Vanitas and Margaret had shown more patience than she had expected.

Marquess Vanitas Astrea, despite everything she had heard of him, treated her with surprising care. He always spoke to her with caution, as though she were a precious treasure that could break if handled too roughly.

At times, he even felt like an older brother watching over a younger sibling.

Then there was Margaret. She was like an older sister who never hesitated to listen whenever Selena’s struggles overwhelmed her.

Whether through conversation or presence alone, Margaret always made sure she did not feel alone.

Whoosh—

“It’s cold….”

Selena rubbed her shoulders, pulling the fur coat tighter around herself.

——Big sister…

Her eyes shut hard, tighter, tighter, her brows furrowing as if the pressure alone could block out the voices. Yet they came all the same, whispering in her ears.

Once more, they refused her even the smallest semblance of sleep.

Half the reason she had left her room tonight was because of them. Because part of her wanted to see them.

To face them.

The children whose lives she had ended by her own hand, indirectly or not. The nuns who had raised her, whom she had condemned to their deaths.

Selena gripped the edges of her coat until her knuckles turned pale. No matter how far she ran, no matter how carefully Vanitas and Margaret sheltered her, those voices would follow.

And the cruel truth was, they had nothing to do with the leylines.

They had been with her long before she ever set foot in the north.

Selena drew in a sharp breath, pressing her lips together to keep them from trembling. For a moment, she wondered if facing a ghost would be easier than having them torment her.

“Selena?”

“…!”

Her eyes widened, startled by the sudden sound of Margaret’s voice. She turned, finding the woman standing there with concern etched across her features.

Margaret’s gaze lingered on Selena’s pale complexion and the sheen of sweat glistening on her skin despite the frigid air.

Margaret frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“….”

However, Selena said nothing and instead forced a small smile to her lips. When Margaret handed her the glass of water, she accepted it silently.

“…Thank you,” she whispered.

“….”

Margaret studied her a moment longer, clearly unconvinced, but she did not press further.

“Should we take this to the room?” Margaret asked.

“Ah, n-no.” Selena quickly waved her hands, flustered. “It’s fine… I don’t want to impede your work.”

“There is no work,” Margaret replied. “I was only looking for Vanitas. But then I was told he had gone outside, so I waited here for him.”

“Outside?” Selena tilted her head, surprise flashing across her face. “Around this time?”

“Yes. Apparently, he’s investigating… all on his own.”

“Is the Marquess… usually like that?”

Margaret’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t answer right away. Selena, however, already found herself turning the thought over.

Despite his station, despite his authority, Marquess Vanitas Astrea seemed to prefer moving with his own hands. He neither relied too heavily on his subordinates nor allowed himself the comforts most nobles usually had.

It was strange. No, remarkable. Nobles of his rank usually concerned themselves only with decisions, but never with the labor that followed.

The more she saw of him, the more her respect for him grew.

“Perhaps we should go inside, then?” Selena suggested. “Sister Margaret needs to rest, too…”

“Sister…”

For some reason, it didn’t sound so bad.

“….”

Over the past few days, Selena had observed Vanitas and Margaret closely. It became clear to her that Vanitas and Margaret’s relationship was not one of a typical master and servant.

But Selena remembered the glimpses of Vanitas’s experiences within the rivers of fate.

How could she forget?

They had been far too graphic for a girl her age. She had seen what he endured, his desperation, and his struggles, even without asking to, and those memories had etched themselves into her mind.

Among those visions, one of them stood out.

There was clearly another woman Vanitas Astrea yearned for that bordered on madness. And Selena, with her education and familiarity with the noble houses, knew exactly who that woman was.

After all, she had seen her face immortalized in paintings.

The Imperial Queen, Julia Barielle.

For why the young Marquess harbored such feelings for a woman more than three decades his age, who already had a husband and children, and who was already dead, Selena did not pry.

She did not question him, nor did she judge.

No matter how impossible or ill-fated love was, it was not something she felt she had the right to scrutinize. Especially not after glimpsing the depths of his memories in the rivers of fate.

Whatever bound Vanitas Astrea to Julia Barielle, it was not fleeting infatuation, nor was it a delusion.

No, whatever it was, it was something real.

“You seem to be thinking of something rather deeply, Saintess,” Margaret said. “What’s on your mind?”

“….”

Selena looked at her for a moment. It wasn’t a demand, but the words of someone ready to listen, as Margaret had always done.

“It’s nothing… Just that you really are loyal to the Marquess. That kind of loyalty reminded me of Aston…”

“The Sword Saint?”

“…Yes.”

Selena’s expression darkened. Of all the things she wished to avoid thinking about, Aston was the heaviest.

Because she feared it.

She feared acknowledging that their last exchange had already been their final one.

“It makes me ponder…” she continued. “What drives one to such unwavering loyalty? Because the day I met Aston, he solemnly swore to be my sword, even when I was nothing more than an orphaned village girl.”

“It’s love.”

“Y-Yes?” Selena blinked her eyes. “…Pardon?”

“I don’t know how it was for the Sword Saint, but for me… I’ve surrendered my heart to Vanitas.”

“….”

Selena’s lips parted, but no words came. The sheer honesty of the statement left her baffled. The way Margaret had spoken with conviction, without even a hint of shame… There was something brilliant about that kind of courage.

Of course, Selena already had her suspicions. It was hardly a secret to anyone who bothered to observe closely.

‘But the Marquess yearns for someone else…’

Selena could only pray silently for Margaret.

* * *

“By all means, Duke Glade, the leyline-turned-mansion is not something to be explored alone,” Vanitas said evenly. “The source has already been disturbed, but this now requires the expertise of several specialists.”

“Is that so?” Friedrich replied. “Well, if you’re suggesting it, then I suppose it can’t be helped. I’ll issue an expedition request to the Empire.”

“Not the Empire,” Vanitas corrected. “But the Scholars Institute. If you’d like, I can extend my authority there myself.”

“Then I’ll accept your offer.”

“Alright.”

With that, the matter was decided. The anomaly had been discovered, but there was little left for Vanitas to do in the north until the Institute’s scholars arrived.

Still, he intended to join the expedition personally. If the leyline truly was a gateway to the dead, then he could not afford to let the opportunity pass.

The request was written and dispatched immediately. In the days that followed, life in the north was rather monotonous. Until, one day, they set out toward the north’s most prized district.

“Are you ready, Selena?” Vanitas asked as he stepped down from the carriage, offering his hand to help the Saintess alight.

“A-ah….”

But Selena paused. Her eyes flicked back and forth between Vanitas and Margaret before she shook her head.

“It’s fine, Marquess. We’re keeping up appearances, aren’t we? I’m nothing but a lowly maid. I think you should take Lady Margaret’s hand.”

“Is that so?”

Vanitas’s gaze shifted to Margaret. Unlike her usual knightly attire, today she was dressed in a formal ensemble befitting the occasion.

An elegant outfit styled to the customs of the north. The fabric accentuated her poise, while the design itself highlighted her natural beauty.

“Then…?” Vanitas asked, extending his hand toward Margaret.

Margaret smiled, placing her hand in his as Vanitas guided her down from the carriage.

“….”

Behind them, Selena watched silently.

Despite the difference in status, the two of them looked the part of a marquess and his lady.

* * *

“This…!”

The Scholars Institute was thrown into an uproar. A handwritten request, delivered directly from none other than Vanitas Astrea, one of the most acknowledged minds of the current generation, was not something that could be ignored.

Many scholars, upon reading the seal and signature, argued they had no choice but to comply, while others were already restless with excitement.

Debates ignited in the great hall of the Institute. Some pressed to gather a small, elite team of researchers, while others demanded that the full strength of the Institute be mobilized. Each voice, whether cautious or eager, couldn’t bring themselves to refuse Vanitas Astrea.

And among the younger Scholars, one in particular could not contain her excitement.

“Y-Yes? Astrid, are you s-sure…?”

It was none other than the Imperial Princess herself, Astrid Barielle Aetherion.

Despite the mountainous tasks on her plate, upon learning of the summons, she was uncharacteristically eager to go. The moment she heard, she had thrown herself into the preparations.

“Yes, I have to go, Sir Winston!” she declared.

Her senior scholar, Winston, frowned. He had always found it difficult to refuse Astrid’s requests. Before being a scholar, she was still the princess, and when she made such vehement demands, there was little anyone could say against her.

It was, in its own way, nepotism at its most blatant, and yet none of the Scholars present dared to oppose her.

Winston sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “But aren’t you busy preparing for the summit?”

Astrid’s eyes shone with resolve. “The summit can wait. I needed a break, anyway. And besides, didn’t I already tell you? Professor—no, Marquess Vanitas Astrea and I go far back. I know how much all of you fear him, but with me there, you’ll have nothing to worry about, right?!”

Winston grimaced, unable to argue further. When Astrid was like this, there was no one who could dissuade her but the elders.

“…Very well,” he muttered at last. “But if you’re going, then I’m going too.”

* * *

“Huh, interesting. What are you planning, Glade?’

Iridelle Vermillion’s eyes narrowed as she read the personal, handwritten note. A request, sent directly to her.

To think that the ever stoic Friedrich Glade had sent her a request was something she never would have expected. It was bold, especially while she was still considered a guest of the Empire.

Normally, Iridelle would have refused without a second thought. Yet there was one detail in the letter she could not overlook.

Vanitas Astrea was there.

That alone changed everything.

“Admiral Vermillion, am I supposed to put it here, or there?”

The voice pulled her from her thoughts. Iridelle turned to the young officer awaiting her command.

“Karina, how would you like to go to the north with me?”

“Y-Yes?! All of a sudden…?”

That officer was none other than Karina Maeril.