The moment the door clicked shut behind Blanca and Finnian, the atmosphere in the office shifted so abruptly it was almost violent.

Sykelion straightened immediately, all traces of earlier "death by cringe" gone as if it had been a highly inconvenient rumor.

He adjusted his posture, cleared his throat once, and transformed back into the composed aide everyone pretended he always was.

"After gathering information about Miss Blanca," he began, all business now, "the only solid data I’ve found is that she is currently enrolled at the Imperial Artificers Academy and is the proprietor of Crimson Snow Atelier. No family records, no registered address, nothing traceable. Even the Frostine lineage only lists her as an isolated entry."

Vesphyr didn’t respond right away. Instead, he tapped his fingers lightly against the armrest of his chair.

"...That’s strange."

"Indeed." Sykelion agreed. "Your Grace, do you want me to assign someone to—"

"She doesn’t seem to know that we’re mates," Vesphyr interrupted, tone flat.

Sykelion blinked then blinked again.

"I—what?" He turned his head so fast it was a miracle his neck survived the motion.

"Just smelling her scent..." Vesphyr continued, almost absently, as if discussing the weather and not something deeply concerning. "drives me insane, but at the same time, it calms me down."

A pause.

"So why," he continued, "does she look completely unaffected?"

Sykelion opened his mouth, closed it, then decided silence was the safest option.

This "fated mate" business was terrifying. Not because of power but because of this.

Side effects include ignoring important matters, personality changes, and apparently, territorial instincts strong enough to rewrite common sense.

"Your Grace," Sykelion managed carefully, choosing each word like it might explode, "what do you intend to do now? Miss Blanca appears to... strongly dislike the concept of marriage."

Vesphyr’s fingers paused then resumed. "I’ll wait," he said simply. "Forcing her would only make her hate me."

Sykelion blinked.

’That... was unexpectedly reasonable.’

"I’ll wait until she can see it and feel it too. That I’m her mate," Vesphyr added calmly.

Sykelion was just beginning to feel a fragile sense of relief when he noticed what Vesphyr was holding.

The eye veil Blanca had left behind.

Sykelion stared at it.

"Is that why," he said slowly, dread creeping in, "you didn’t bother telling her that you marked your scent all over her?"

Vesphyr didn’t even hesitate. "Yes."

Sykelion stared at him. "...You did what?"

"I want the others to know she’s mine."

There was a very long pause.

Somewhere, deep within Sykelion’s soul, something snapped quietly and chose not to come back.

’We’re doomed,’ he thought.

Not in a dramatic, end-of-the-world way.

No.

In a much worse way.

’The Duke is completely, irreversibly in love.’

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

Imperial Artificers Academy

By the time I reached the Academy, I was running purely on spite and whatever dignity I had managed to salvage from that disaster of a meeting.

My brain was still replaying everything like a cursed highlight reel when I passed by a café just in time for my stomach to growl loudly.

Come to think of it, I left Gawain all alone again.

He was probably in his room right now, dramatically staring out the window like a neglected housewife in a tragic play.

I needed a peace offering, preferably something sweet enough to distract him from his suffering and my irresponsibility.

I stepped inside the café, the bell chiming overhead like it was announcing my arrival to yet another unfortunate Chapter of my life.

I headed straight for the counter. "Two take outs of your today’s special," I told the cashier.

"That’ll be 388 IC," the cashier replied, pointing at the QR code.

I tapped my OmniSync, then slid into a nearby seat, closing my eyes for what I hoped would be a brief moment of peace.

I only got one second.

"Well, well, well. If it isn’t the troll who ran away."

I opened my eyes slowly, already exhausted, and turned my head just enough to confirm my suspicions.

My group was sitting at the table next to mine.

I groaned. "Why... is grumpy pants still here?"

"We’re glad you still came to help us even if you were very late, Bella," Sebastian said, smiling like he hadn’t just committed a crime.

"I will slap whoever that Bella is," I muttered, standing up anyway.

I dragged a chair over with all the grace of someone who had already lost control of her life and sat down with them.

I flashed them a polite smile that absolutely did not reach my soul. "I’m sorry if I’m late. Business matters..."

The other two members of the group just nodded stiffly, looking like they’d rather be anywhere else.

I stared at them for a moment. ’They must have been intimidated by Stephano and Sebastian.’

Sebastian leaned closer to me, squinting slightly like a suspicious cat. "Wait... why do you smell different?"

I frowned. "What do you mean different?"

"You smell..." he paused, sniffing again like this was completely normal behavior, "like a fox."

’Urgh! I forgot to wash my face because of that damn Duke!’

Before I could answer that, Stephano scoffed, crossing his arms. "Business matters, my ass. She ran away from us just to go on a date."

"I did not," I snapped, glaring at him. "My client just happened to have a very large, very annoying, and very clingy... puppy."

And for a split second, I almost smiled, remembering Vesphyr’s puppy-like fox.

Which was a mistake.

Stephano pointed at me like he had just caught a criminal mid-confession. "You see that? She’s lying!"

"You’re just jealous because you can’t go on a date with Vivienne," I shot back without hesitation.

His entire face turned red so fast it was honestly impressive. "I—What—"

And just like that, he stopped functioning completely.

"No more objections?" I asked sweetly.

No one spoke.

Good.

"Okay," I continued, already pulling my hair into a bun, "let’s focus on our presentation."

Right on time, a staff member approached. "Miss, here’s your takeout."

"Thank you," I said, placing the boxes carefully on the chair beside me—far, far away from potential thieves.

"Can I have some?" Sebastian asked immediately.

"No," I said flatly, not even looking at him as I opened our presentation files.

Our assigned topic glowed on the screen:

Origin of Rogues

I leaned back slightly, scanning the material, my earlier exhaustion momentarily replaced by curiosity.

Now this... this was interesting.

Honestly, going to school might actually be the most normal part of my life.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Monday

The professor had barely finished saying, "What an interesting insight, thank you for your presentation," when he immediately looked like he regretted believing in education at all.

Snore.

The next group was called, and after another disappointing stretch of public suffering, he paused and frowned at the stage.

Snore.

"Only four of you...? Where is your other teammate?"

"Apparently she’s still asleep, Professor," Stephano answered, far too pleased with himself.

Snore.

A beat later, the professor’s patience snapped like a cheap hair tie. "Miss Frostine, get your ass up—"

"I was already here, Professor," I said sweetly.

The room froze.

I stood at the front of the stage, head slightly tilted, wearing my most innocent smile like I hadn’t just been audibly snoring an hour ago.

The students who had been nodding off one by one instantly woke up, all of them staring at me like I had committed witchcraft in broad daylight.

"What the hell...?"

"She was literally snoring right here...?"

"Is she a ghost?!"

"Where’s my glasses???"

"Did anyone see her walk up there?!"

No.

No, they did not.

Because I also did not.

"How the hell did you get there that fast?" Stephano muttered, looking personally offended by my existence.

"None of your business," I murmured back sweetly, still smiling.

"Also... where did you get the glasses? And when did you tie your hair?" Sebastian asked, squinting at me like I had just replaced myself with a much more functional clone.

"Yeah," Stephano added, looking personally offended. "You came in looking like a troll and suddenly you’re... human?"

I stepped on his foot as hard as I can.

He choked on whatever insult he was about to throw next, immediately trying to retaliate—but I was already a step ahead, casually shifting away like nothing happened.

"Shall we start our presentation, Professor?" I asked politely.

"S-Sure," the professor stammered, still looking like he was reconsidering his entire career choice. "Go ahead."

I turned to the class, adjusting my glasses like a model student who definitely did not teleport, shapeshift, or snore like a dying beast moments ago.

Behind me, I could practically feel my teammates staring holes straight through my skull, demanding answers I had absolutely no intention of giving.

"Good morning," I began smoothly. "Our topic is the Origin of Rogues."

I gestured to the projection behind me, where an old illustration of beastmen before the Cataclysm appeared.

"Rogues, as we all know, originally came from beastmen," I continued, pacing slowly across the front. "But everything changed during the 50th century, when the event now known as the Cataclysm occurred."

I clicked the next slide. Dark clouds, explosions, and chaos.

"The Cataclysm wasn’t just a single explosion but a chain reaction. Massive bursts of volatile smoke spread across entire regions. Beastmen who unknowingly inhaled it began experiencing severe symptoms—dizziness, nausea, headaches, and most notably, uncontrollable emotional instability."

A few students straightened up. At least, I had their attention now.

"These symptoms were later classified as Hysteria."

There was a pause. I could feel the question forming in the room before anyone even raised their hands.

"You might be wondering why we’re discussing Hysteria when our topic is about the Origin of Rogues," I added, glancing briefly at the class. "But in reality... they are directly connected."

A few brows furrowed.

The image changed into a more disturbing one—glowing eyes, distorted forms.

"When a beastman fully succumbs to Hysteria, they lose everything that defines them. Their sense of right and wrong disappears. Rational thought collapses. Memory, identity—gone."

My voice lowered slightly.

"They no longer recognize allies. Not family. Not friends. Not even themselves. The only instinct that remains..."

Silence filled the room.

"...is the need to quench something they don’t even understand so they attack anything just to fulfill their need."

I turned back to face the class.

"Any questions?"

For a moment, no one moved. Then the professor raised his hand, and immediately seemed to regret it.

He coughed, slowly lowering it like it had betrayed him. "Ah—what happens if you get bitten by a Rogue?"

"Good question," I said, nodding. "Contrary to common belief, Rogues do not ’infect’ others in the traditional sense."

That got me a few confused looks.

I clicked to the next slide—an image of a mecha suit and an energy stone.

"If you are wearing proper protective gear, such as a mecha suit, there are typically no side effects from bites or scratches."

I gestured lightly.

"Even without one, you won’t automatically become a Rogue. There is no direct transmission."

A few relieved sighs echoed faintly.

"But," I added, raising a finger slightly, "if a beastman without an energy stone is bitten or scratched..."

I let the pause do the work.

"...it significantly accelerates the onset of Hysteria."

Now the room was fully awake.

"In other words," I concluded calmly, "the danger isn’t infection—"

I glanced at them.

"—it’s losing control faster than you can recover it."

Clap.

Clap.

Clap.

Clap.

The sound echoed like I had just delivered a life-changing speech instead of casually explaining how people lose their minds and bite each other.

"Bravo, Miss Frostine!" the professor exclaimed, shooting up from his seat like he had just witnessed enlightenment. He was clapping like his salary depended on it. "I didn’t know you were this good at presenting!"

I smiled politely, already halfway checked out mentally.

"Class," he continued, gesturing dramatically towards me like I was a rare specimen, "this is how you present—short, engaging, and knowledgeable! Who cares what you’re talking about if it’s boring?"

...That felt like a personal attack on literally every other group.

"Thank you for the compliment, Professor," I said, bowing politely before walking back to my seat like I didn’t just abandon my teammates at the front lines.

"Next group!" the professor announced, still riding the high of my presentation like he had personally trained me.

The next group reluctantly stood up like they were being led to execution.

"Why did they present first...?"

"I’m more shocked she didn’t mess up..."

"She looked so confident... so perfect... so why does she suck at combat?"

Wow.

I felt attacked again.

Repeatedly.

Meanwhile, my teammates were still standing at the front like NPCs waiting for their next line of dialogue.

"What are you four still doing there?" the professor asked, raising a brow at them.

That snapped them out of it as they scrambled back to their seats.

I, on the other hand, calmly removed the glasses I had absolutely borrowed without permission and handed them back to their rightful owner.

"Thanks," I whispered.

They nodded slowly, still processing everything that had just happened, including my entire existence.

As soon as I sat down, I immediately laid my head down on the desk.

I could feel my classmates staring at me, questioning reality, life choices, and possibly whether I had some kind of hidden ability labeled "Academic Menace."

I ignored all of them as a familiar hand gently patted my head.

"You did well there, My Lady," Gawain murmured. "I didn’t know you were good at presenting."

"Mmm... yeah..." I mumbled, already halfway asleep.

Snore.

Well... thanks for my experience being a CEO in my past life.