Self sabotage.
As one would call it.
If Gordon, the butler, were to carry out the deed, he would not only lose his job, but also jeopardize the livelihoods of his fellow co-workers.
Just like Gordon, they would lose their jobs, their income, and their means of survival.
It was a choice between his moral compass and the people he had worked alongside for years—the people who depended on the same family he loathed to survive.
And that was not the only thing he feared.
He was also terrified of reporting to the wrong person.
From his perspective, a family as powerful as the Wyndales had their reach everywhere, and any wrong move could lead to even worse consequences.
Even if it was for his daughter's sake, he couldn't bring himself to do it.
This world was unforgiving.
The rich only got richer, while the poor remained stuck in a repetitive cycle of suffering.
Despite his hatred for the family, he knew that challenging them meant risking everything.
But on a certain day, when a certain Professor visited, that day changed everything for Gordon.
"Gordon," the Head Maid whispered. "That man…. he's here because of Lord Desmond."
Gordon's eyes widened at that moment, realizing where the situation could lead.
In the past, while there were complaints regarding the Young Master's behavior, the Wyndales would easily silence them.
The powerless never had any chance to oppose them.
In any case.
Surprisingly, the Young Master had lived a quieter life since entering University three years ago.
Desmond had always been a talent, and had managed to place within the top 60 of the ESAT examination.
But on a certain day, Gordon wasn't quite sure, but he had definitely heard the Lord lash out at Desmond for failing a class.
And despite a retake, Desmond's performance didn't improve. As a result, the Young Master was forced to switch majors.
As Gordon looked at the Professor inside the living room, a question probed his mind.
Could this be 'that' Professor?
It was highly possible.
"...."
But Gordon had to ascertain the situation first.
There was always a chance the Professor could be easily bribed.
But then, as he listened keenly on their conversation, there was no mistake.
This Professor…. he was fearless.
Gordon clenched his fist. This could be his chance to act, but the thought of dragging everyone down with him made his heart heavy.
"Gordon."
The voice broke through his thoughts.
He turned to find Alice, the Head Maid, standing behind him.
"...."
He froze for a moment before his eyes widened, catching the small smile on her face.
The unspoken message was clear.
Without saying a word, Alice gave him a small nod.
As he glanced around, several heads peeked from behind the door.
It was the other maids. Each of them gave him a silent look of confirmation.
They were giving him looks of confirmation.
It was then when Alice spoke again.
"Do what you must, Gordon. We understand. It's for Matilda."
"...."
Her words struck him. He felt as though the burden of his decision was no longer his alone.
Gordon managed to fight the tears back as his lips parted open.
"....I'm so sorry, everyone, and…. Thank you so much."
And because of that, Gordon resolved himself.
"Gordon," the Lord of Wyndale called for him. "Start the car."
"Understood."
Gordon's mind flashed back to yesterday.
The Lord had been furious with his son, Desmond, for drawing attention—particularly from a University Professor.
Unbeknownst to Gordon, the Lord had specifically warned his son never to cross a Professor as soon as he entered University.
After all, the position itself was regarded with immense respect.
Though the Lord had no talent for magic himself, he understood that the Empire held Professors in high regard.
To the Lord, however, it was but a cheap way for a person with no political power to rise through the ranks.
As they climbed into the car, Gordon's gaze lingered on the estate.
He watched as the Head Maid, Alice, along with the other maids, bowed their heads in respect for the Lord's departure.
Stepping onto the gas, the car drifted off shortly after.
All the maids returned inside the mansion. Everything had been calculated.
Around this time, the Lord would always have a company meeting.
Being a widower, and with his son Desmond still at the University, there were no Wyndales in the mansion.
Alice retrieved the briefcase, and the maids and servants gathered around.
In other words, there were no servants working under the Wyndale who were loyal at all.
Click—
As the briefcase clicked open, the gathered maids and servants stared in awe.
"Head Maid, isn't this…."
"It is." Alice carefully picked up one of the artifacts inside the briefcase. "I'm not sure how Gordon got his hands on these, but his resolve is firm."
The contents of the briefcase had left them truly shocked.
But as Alice's gaze shifted, one particular piece of parchment caught her attention. It held a peculiar magic circle, a spell she couldn't recognize.
Gordon had specifically instructed her to use it on the door to the Lord's office.
A maid, noticing Alice's hesitation, spoke up. "Head Maid, are you…. good with magic?"
Alice looked at the maid from her shoulder. Her eyes briefly flicked over the spell before she responded with a smile on her face.
"I studied a bit."
As they made their way to the Lord's office, the butlers, and maids, stood back as Alice stepped forward, holding onto the parchment paper.
Essentially, most doors, and locks, even structures, were equipped with unique magical barriers designed to prevent any form of tampering.
Even the most skilled thieves or mages couldn't bypass them unless they had the proper magical key—or, as it seemed now, the right spell.
To unlock such barriers with magic, one needed to understand the very foundation of the protective spellformula.
This required analyzing the structure of the barrier, its mana flow, and the specific circuits that composed it.
But In most cases, this was nearly impossible, as the magic used in these barriers was specifically designed to obscure such details from prying eyes.
Of course, destructive force was always an option.
If the barrier was created using a grandmaster-level spell, then only a spell of equal caliber could hope to break it.
So, what was the answer here?
'Was the person who provided this circuit capable of casting Grandmaster spells?'
Alice dismissed the thought. No, that wasn't it.
Pure destruction would tear the barrier apart, yes, but it would also make it glaringly obvious that the office had been breached.
Then….
Alice could only find out.
Imbuing mana into the parchment, she pressed the paper against the door.
The spell on the parchment began to activate. The magic merged with the door's barrier.
"...."
For a brief moment, there was silence.
Click—
Then, a faint click echoed, followed by an imperceptible shudder from the door.
Alice held her breath. She had done it.
The door was unlocked.
***
"I don't understand. You have just as much reason as me to take that Professor down, so why?"
Desmond's confusion grew. He couldn't understand why the person he was talking to refused to assist him.
"Why won't you help me, Silas?"
Silas hesitated before responding. "I initially wanted to. But really? Targeting a girl who isn't even relevant to this situation? That doesn't sit right with me."
"That's not the point!" Desmond snapped. "This…. all of this…. I'm doing it so we can finally avenge Arwen!"
"...."
There was a heavy silence.
Arwen.
The name struck Silas like a blow to the chest.
It was the name of his late elder sister.
"Shut up…."
Desmond blinked in confusion. "What?"
"Don't speak my sister's name with that tongue of yours."
Silas's eyes darkened, his gaze hardening as he stepped closer.
"To avenge my sister?" Silas scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "You're funny."
Desmond's brows furrowed in frustration. "The hell?"
Silas's expression grew even harder. "You think this…. this petty revenge, dragging innocent people into your mess…. is what my sister would've wanted?"
"I thought you'd understand."
Silas shook his head. "Understand? I never agreed to any of this."
He turned away, his back to Desmond, and said, "Don't call me out here again, please."
"...."
The words hit Desmond like a punch to the gut. He stood there for a moment, staring at Silas's retreating figure.
Finally, he muttered under his breath, "Whatever. You're still a kid. You don't know how this game works. Once I get rid of that Professor, you'll thank me."
"...."
But Silas didn't turn around. His silence was all the answer Desmond needed.
"No backbone. Just like the rest of your family…." Desmond muttered.
If anything, Silas had a greater reason to exact revenge against Vanitas Astrea. Even more so than him.
After all, Vanitas Astrea.
"...."
….He was the sole reason why Arwen Ainsley took her own life.
"Tsk. The hell?"
The whole encounter soured his mood.
***
After finishing her lecture on Correlation of Alchemy and Trigonometry, Astrid stepped out of the lecture hall, feeling her head about to burst.
The Professor, Claude Rosamund had been far too theoretical. The entire class felt like a never-ending list of abstract concepts and dry facts.
There was no effort to engage the students—just theory after theory, facts after facts, with no real explanation of how it all fit together.
"Seriously, in this day and age, there are still Professors like that?"
It was a complete contrast to Vanitas Astrea, whose classes, though highly theoretical, were far more engaging.
While Vanitas didn't shy away from complex concepts, he found ways to make them relevant and challenging.
His lessons kept everyone on their toes. To constantly push each student to think critically and apply what they were learning..
But as Astrid walked through the halls, a lingering question remained in her mind.
It had been bothering her since the examination, but she couldn't find the right opportunity to ask.
Charlotte Astrea's magic had been the talk recently. Astrid wanted to confirm something with Vanitas.
Not if he had a hand in the development, but…. if Astrid too, could get some pointers to development of her very first creation.
With those thoughts in mind, Astrid made her way toward his office.
But as she approached, she noticed someone standing just outside the door.
"Who?"
As she scrutinized further, she realized it was her new classmate, who had joined the class along with Charlotte.
It was Cassandra.
From the lectures yesterday and earlier, Astrid's impression of Cassandra was that she was a rather gloomy person.
"Hello?"
"Ah?"
Startled, Cassandra turned around, meeting Astrid's gaze.
"Are you here for the Professor too?" Astrid asked.
"...."
Cassandra's mouth hung open, as if she was hesitant to speak.
Suddenly, the door swung open, and Karina, carrying a stack of documents in her arms, was about to step out when she noticed the two girls standing at the entrance.
"Yes? Can I help you?"
Astrid glanced at Cassandra, then turned to Karina. "I'm here to see the Professor. Is he inside?"
Karina shook her head. "Ah, no. He left a while ago for some urgent matters.
"Is that so?" Astrid said.
Without saying a word, Cassandra turned and walked away. Astrid found it strange but quickly shrugged it off.
"He won't be back for a while, I think. I wouldn't wait for him. Ah, sorry, I need to submit these right away." With those words, Karina quickly dashed off the hallway.
Sighing, Astrid was about to leave when a streak of red hair caught her attention in her peripheral vision.
"Where are you going, Commoner?"
It was Ezra, running in the opposite direction.
"Have you seen Cassamanthus?"
"Who?"
"A girl. Violet hair. About your height. Anyway, have you seen her?"
"...."
Astrid blinked, completely baffled. She knew Ezra was bad with names, but this was on a whole new level.
"Wait a minute…."
Had he even bothered to learn it?
The more she pondered, the more obvious it became. He had always called her 'Princess.'
Not like it mattered, anyway.
"She's going where you're going, you're bound to run into her. But why?"
Ezra turned to face her, an unusually serious expression on his face. "Because I think she's in trouble."
Astrid raised an eyebrow. "Trouble? What kind of trouble?"
Ezra hesitated for a moment, then said, "Believe it or not, Princess, but she's being tormented by the seniors."
"Tormented?" Astrid's expressions shifted.
"Yes, by a group of seniors. The guy leading them was some noble named uh…. Delton or something like that."
"Delton?" Astrid's eyebrow arched.
Ezra's track record with names wasn't just bad. It was catastrophic. She had to ascertain it.
"Or maybe it was Dylan…." Ezra pinched his chin thoughtfully, trying to recall.
Astrid rolled her eyes, losing her patience. "Just tell me what he looks like."
"Uh, tall, smug-looking, always walking like he owns the place. Brown hair. Oh, and his uniform's always annoyingly pristine."
Astrid's expression darkened. "Desmond. His name is Desmond Wyndale."
Ezra snapped his fingers. "That's the one!"
She let out a sharp breath. "Figures it's him."
"You know him?"
"To a certain extent," she replied. "He was a senior during my highschool days."
Ezra frowned. "And no one dealt with him back then either?"
Astrid shook her head. "It's complicated. His family has influence, and people like him know how to skirt just under the line of outright criminal behavior. He's always been untouchable."
"I don't get it. Why isn't she reporting this to the Professors? They'd have to do something, right?"
Astrid gave him a pointed look. "Do you really believe that? Reporting someone like Desmond isn't as simple as filling out a complaint form."
"So what? Just let him keep doing whatever the hell he wants? That's ridiculous."
"That's not what I'm saying," Astrid said. "But think about it. Cassandra is a commoner. Desmond is the son of a Marquess. Even if the Professors intervene, do you honestly think he won't find another way to make her life miserable?"
Ezra clenched his fists. "So what's the solution, then? Just let her keep taking it?"
Then, as Ezra realized something, his eyes widened.
"Wait, aren't you the Princess? Can't you do something about it?"
Astrid froze for a moment, her lips pressing into a thin line. "It's not that simple."
"What do you mean, 'not that simple'? You're royalty. Isn't this the kind of thing you're supposed to handle?"
Astrid sighed, rubbing her temples. "Yes, in theory, I could step in. I could throw my weight around, use my title to demand action."
"So, why not?"
"Because it doesn't always work like that." She softened her voice, seeing Ezra's confusion. "Listen, being royalty doesn't mean I can just walk in and fix everything. Desmond's family is powerful. If I intervene publicly, it could escalate into something worse."
The truth was, as the third in line to the throne, Astrid's authority had always been limited, especially in political matters.
Her position might have been able to intimidate some, but against a family like the Wyndales, it wouldn't be enough to guarantee a solution.
While Astrid had held the title of Princess, in the eyes of nobility, she was still considered young and inexperienced.
At the moment, she was seen more as a figurehead within her academic environment than a direct authority.
"Worse? How much worse can it get?" Ezra asked, incredulous.
"Think, Commoner," Astrid said, crossing her arms. "If I use my authority here with no solid proof, Desmond's family could retaliate. They could bring their influence to bear on Cassandra, or even on her family back in the countryside. And if they decide to challenge me directly, it could turn into a political mess."
"...."
Ezra fell silent as the weight of her words sank in.
"The truth is, Cassandra can't retaliate right now. She has no proof of what Desmond and his lackeys have done to her. And even if she tried to report it, the system isn't in her favor," Astrid stated.
The Wyndale family, as a Marquess household, held significant power.
Nobles of such rank were not easily swayed, even by the direct children of the Emperor.
For Astrid to have publicly accused them or intervened, it would have required an airtight case backed by undeniable evidence.
Without it, her actions could have been dismissed as baseless, potentially damaging her credibility.
It was in the Empire's interest for the royal family to appear impartial, especially in matters involving powerful noble houses.
Astrid acting against the Wyndales without concrete proof could have been perceived as a misuse of her royal status.
"So basically, you're useless?"
"...."
"....As expected," Ezra muttered.
"Wha—"
"Nothing. Thanks anyway," he said, turning to leave without waiting for her response.
Just as he was about to rush off, another voice cut through behind them.
"Stop."
Both turned to find Charlotte standing a few steps away, staring at them with a bewildered expression.
"Repeat what you two were just talking about," she demanded.