"Young lords and ladies, our session has now concluded. I extend my gratitude for your esteemed presence and participation today. May your endeavours be ever fruitful, and I look forward to our next gathering. You are now dismissed." Following the formal greeting, the professor took a leave.
I didn't realise how fast the hour went by. Apart from being amusing, demonology is truly intriguing. I often find myself so thoroughly engrossed, that the one hour and thirty-minute session seems like ninety seconds to me.
"The next class, however, seems like an eternity," I thought to myself as I gazed out of the window, lost in my thoughts.
"Your- uh, Lady Verena!"
The pure and angelic voice, honey dripping with familiarity, brought me back to the present moment. It just took me a flinch to recognize the speaker. It was obviously him.
His presence alone seemed to illuminate the dull classroom, his eyes twinkling with mischief and warmth.
"Your Grace, Young Lord Lucian, it's an honour to meet you again," Bound by social norms and ranks, I greeted him with a respectful nod, my voice tinged with reverence. Lucian, the heir to the dukedom of Everhart, was blessed with remarkable divinity and was protected by a formidable guardian angel, Lucian was no ordinary noble. Rumours whispered of his powers surpassing even those of his esteemed father, the Duke, who wields a Throne ranked angel.
"Lady Verena, please, just call me Lucian." His voice wavered slightly, giving a hint of annoyance to the formalities as he spoke. His eyes flickered away for a moment, as he glanced at the surroundings, before meeting mine again with a quiet intensity.
We were, however, interrupted by a vicious remark.
"Lord Lucian, you have a very kind heart. But you don't need to waste your precious time on a mere daughter of a viscount from the countryside." Lady Hestia's voice dripped with hatred as she walked toward us, her gaze fixed pointedly on me. "There's a saying that one rotten apple tends to pollute the pure ones too, my lord."
Her words, sharp and condescending, hung in the air like a poisonous mist. She looked me up and down with a disdainful sneer, making no attempt to hide the contempt that was etched across her flawless features and her crimson hair. It was a look everyone had grown used to, for Lady Hestia, the daughter of Marquis Ardea, never let a single opportunity slip by to remind those of lesser birth of their place. Her scorn was as much a part of her as the elegant silk gowns she wore, and she wielded it like a weapon, always aimed at those she deemed unworthy.
"Now you, insolent brat." She said, turning towards me, pointing her fan to me as if she was asking for me to greet her.
Uh? Where are the manners, lady? I'll just ignore what you said.
As she spoke, I glanced at Lucian, who stood beside me. His brow furrowed slightly, the flicker of a frown crossing his face. There was no trace of agreement in his expression, as it appeared he was about to speak up for me.
"How dare you!" Lady Hestia's voice cut through the air like a knife, trembling with indignation. Her cheeks flushed an angry crimson, and the delicate fan in her gloved hand shook as though it might shatter at any moment. "You, a mere daughter of a viscount, have the audacity to ignore the words of Hestia Ardea?"
She punctuated her fury by hurling the fan in my direction, its jewelled handle catching the light as it spun toward me. What a bitch.
With a swift sidestep, I dodged the fan effortlessly, letting it clatter harmlessly to the floo I met Lady Hestia's furious gaze with a calm smile, my tone as smooth as polished marble. "Lady Hestia, my deepest apologies," I began, bowing my head just enough to feign respect. "I did not realize your ladyship was speaking to me. You see, being from the countryside, I'm still rather unfamiliar with the empire's more refined etiquette."
I paused, letting my words hang in the air for a moment before continuing with a touch of feigned innocence. "I wasn't aware that insolent brat was the proper term of address for noble ladies. If that is the case, should I perhaps similarly address your ladyship as 'insolent brat'?"
A shocked murmur rippled through the classroom filled with nobles, their whispers weaving an invisible net around Lady Hestia, who stood rigid with outrage. Her eyes widened, and for a brief moment, the carefully crafted mask of nobility slipped, revealing the unfiltered fury burning beneath.
"How dare you speak to me with such insolence!" she sputtered, her voice trembling with rage and her aura getting brighter. Her guardian angel was acting up. "You think you can insult me, the lady of House Ardea, with your petty wit? I'll have you know that—"
Before she could finish, another voice interrupted from the back of the room, smooth and laced with amusement. "Oh, come now, Lady Hestia. Surely, you can't be taking offence at a bit of countryside candour?"
All heads turned as Lord Lucian, surprised by him stepping forward. His golden eyes gleamed with a mix of curiosity and amusement, as though he were watching an entertaining spectacle unfold. He glanced at me briefly, before turning his full attention to Lady Hestia.
"After all," he continued, his tone deliberately light, "We mustn't forget that true nobility is measured by grace, not temper."
Lady Hestia's expression twisted, as she struggled to defend her own honour. It was clear that Lord Lucian's intervention had shifted the room's mood, and she wasn't about to lose face so easily.
"I… of course," she said, her voice straining to maintain composure. "It is a lesson that some would do well to remember."
The room fell into an uneasy silence, and I could feel the weight of curious eyes lingering on me. I met Lucian's gaze, and his subtle nod seemed to acknowledge the unspoken alliance that had momentarily saved me from Hestia's wrath.
The silence lingered in the air until it was abruptly shattered by the entrance of the professor of Angelology. He strode into the hall with an air of authority, his presence commanding immediate attention. The moment he crossed the threshold, the tension that had gripped the room dissipated, and the atmosphere returned to its usual hum of curiosity and anticipation.
I suppressed a yawn, the weight of sleepiness settling heavily upon me. The light filtering through the windows made it all too easy to drift into daydreams, and I fought the urge to let my eyelids flutter shut. At that moment, all I could think about was how comfortable my desk looked, beckoning me to lean my head upon it and surrender to the pull of slumber.