Chapter 11: There is a pervert!
Liliane stepped out of the training field, the morning sun stretching her shadow long across the ground.
She crossed the academy’s wide courtyard, her gaze occasionally flicking to clusters of students chatting happily.
Their faces glowed with youth and vitality—some discussing schoolwork, others sharing the latest capital accessories, a few chasing each other over playful jokes.
It was the carefree, joyful routine of St. Freya.
But only a glance.
Her eyes soon returned to the straight, white marble path beneath her feet, her expression reverting to its usual indifference and distance.
Outside the academy, a sleek black carriage, understated yet opulent, waited quietly.
The Winter family’s roaring silver wolf crest on the door gleamed coldly in the sunlight.
With Clara on leave, a young, less experienced maid took her place.
Seeing Liliane, the maid lifted her skirt and hurried over, her face full of anxiety:
“Lady Liliane! Where have you been? I couldn’t find you anywhere!”
“Just stretching my legs at the training field.”
Liliane’s lips curved in a barely perceptible arc, as if stating something trivial.
“Practiced some basic spells I haven’t used in a while. I’m a bit rusty.”
“B-basic spells?”
The maid was dumbfounded, unable to connect the family’s genius with “rusty.”
“Hm,” Liliane offered no further explanation. “It won’t delay the schedule, will it?”
“N-no!” The maid quickly checked her itinerary. “There’s still plenty of time if we leave now.”
Liliane nodded, said nothing more, and stepped into the carriage.
“Move out.”
At the coachman’s command, the carriage glided smoothly into the capital’s bustling streets.
Inside, half-drawn velvet curtains swayed with the carriage’s motion, dappled light filtering through, dancing across Liliane’s flawless face.
In this small, private space, shielded from the world’s scrutiny and expectations, her taut, valkyrie-like aura quietly softened.
She leaned back against the cushioned seat, gazing out the window, her violet eyes reflecting the vibrant city.
A faint smile, unnoticed even by herself, touched her lips.
Not the smile of the Winter family heir, but that of an ordinary girl, curious and intrigued by the world.
Perhaps, even she hadn’t realized that Clara’s teasing remark—
“If you had time, would you personally teach Miss Ailiya?”
—had quietly come true.
Ailiya stayed at the training field until late at night.
The groundskeeper, an old master, had long wanted to close up, but he couldn’t resist the girl’s pleading, clinging to his arm.
“Ten more minutes,” she’d beg, or stare at him with big, pitiful eyes until he sighed, waved her off, and let her stay.
Now, the field was empty except for her.
She closed her eyes, replaying every detail of Liliane’s spellcasting from earlier.
How mana was drawn from the air, gathered, compressed, and shaped at her fingertips.
Mimicking her, Ailiya focused all her mental energy on the wand in her hand.
Focus… focus more… feel them, guide them…
After what felt like forever, a faint trickle of mana began to gather at the wand’s tip.
It was like lighting a match in the dark— feeble but brimming with hope.
Her eyes snapped open, and she shouted the spell she’d practiced countless times.
At the wand’s tip, a small, flickering flame finally formed, slowly shaping into an arrow.
“I-I did it!”
Ailiya nearly jumped with excitement. But the next second, her joy froze.
She stared at the… finger-sized flame arrow, lost in thought.
This is way too tiny! Could this thing even light a candle?
What went wrong? Not enough mana? A flawed magic circle?
She scratched her head, flipping open the tattered Basic Spellcraft Introduction, searching for answers in its cryptic diagrams.
“Grr—”
A loud rumble from her stomach reminded her she’d skipped dinner to practice.
Glancing at the dark night sky outside, she decided it was late enough.
That’s enough for today.
She stretched, packed her things, and prepared to leave.
Just then, a clear, slightly lazy male voice sounded behind her.
“Flame Arrow.”
With the incantation, a blazing flame materialized in the speaker’s palm, stretching and shaping into a half-meter-long arrow wreathed in roaring fire.
“Whoosh—!”
The arrow shot out with a piercing whistle, striking the distant target precisely.
A deafening boom followed, the target shattering as dazzling sparks scattered like fireworks, illuminating half the field.
The sparks faded, and the field returned to the moonlit blue ambiance.
Ailiya turned, stunned.
When did he get here? I didn’t even notice!
Moonlight through the high windows lit the newcomer’s face.
A boy.
He wore a tailored white suit, its gold trim and chest emblem glinting in the moonlight, his soft flaxen hair framing deep blue eyes like the night sky.
His aura was elegant and noble, like a prince stepped out of an old painting.
Why… is there a boy here? Isn’t St. Freya a girls’ academy?
A terrifying thought hit Ailiya.
Could he be… a pervert who snuck in?!
The boy, unaware of her racing thoughts, turned to her, offering a polished critique:
“Your mana circuit was too loose when you cast, and your focus was lacking, causing over seventy percent of the mana to dissipate during formation.”
Seeing Ailiya’s silent, wary stare, he smiled and added:
“Hello, I’m Leon.”
Leon? That name sounds familiar…
No, not the time for that!
“Are you a teacher here?” Ailiya asked cautiously.
“No.” Leon shook his head, puzzled.
“Did you enter through proper channels?”
Leon thought for a moment, amused: “Well… not exactly.”
That’s it, confirmed!
Ailiya’s internal alarm blared.
This guy’s a pervert who snuck into a girls’ academy! And he’s boldly lecturing me on magic!
If I run for security now, he’ll escape with that speed.
Yelling would just spook him.
Looks like… I’m on my own!
She eyed the oblivious “pervert,” still rattling off mana circuit theory, and quietly clenched her fists.
Ailiya stepped toward Leon.
Thinking she was listening, he smiled warmly, continuing his explanation.
When they were less than a step apart, Ailiya struck.
Without warning, she threw a swift right punch at his handsome face!
“What the—?!”
Leon’s superhuman reflexes let him lean back just in time.
Before he could finish, her second punch came.
He blocked it cleanly, but didn’t expect it to be a feint.
Ailiya was too fast— as he guarded his upper body, a brutal knee strike slammed into his stomach.
Leon never imagined a girl in the refined St. Freya would have such ferocious combat skills.
“Ugh…”
With a pained groan, his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed.
Ailiya retracted her knee, shaking out her hand.
The boxing lessons from Uncle Wang’s gym next door sure came in handy.
She deftly grabbed the rope the kidnappers had used, tied up the “pervert” tightly, and dusted her hands.
Alright, time to get security and bring this guy to justice!
But when she rushed back with the groundskeeper, the training field was empty.
The mysterious boy, bound like a dumpling, had vanished along with the rope.