Chapter 173

Chapter 173
Chapter 173
## Chapter 173: Chair with Spikes (2)

What Sirine manages to perceive upon entering the high society of Evelstain is the unfathomable complexity of human nature. For someone who spent much of her life isolated within the walls of the Rocheste mansion, the social environment of the aristocracy, where every movement is governed by protocol and every kind gesture hides a different intention, presented itself as an impassable wall.

The only reason the ladies who frequent the Rosea Salon avoid harassing her lies in the dark rumors that precede her, her astonishing talent for magic, and her past as the youngest student of the Ravenclaw School; elements that act as personal armor. The palpable respect shown to her by heavyweight figures in the salon, like Diela, Elente, and Denis, generates a natural distance, added to the famous story of the beating she gave Tricia for hours without flinching, which is already almost a legend. These factors positioned her in the Rosea Salon as a figure no one dared to annoy, although that did not mean she was immune to the environment.

—Like a wild beast whose fangs have been ripped out.

That was the young woman’s reflection while she sat at one of the crowded nobility tea gatherings. Aristocratic ladies often delighted in romantic illusions about chance encounters and heroic princes on white steeds. It is not strange for young women of marriageable age to harbor such fantasies, but for Sirine, that was incomprehensible. For her, the world was a frozen and ruthless steppe; waiting passively for a savior was no different from sitting in the middle of an icy wasteland and waiting for death to reach her.

Subsisting meant feeding on scraps, evading predators, and constantly seeking shelter: the existence of a wild creature on the northern plains. For Sirine, who knew those hostile landscapes firsthand, those noblewomen in pompous dresses talking about porcelain dinnerware reminded her of creatures of nature stripped of their claws.

Wasn’t the social elite supposed to perfect itself through study, magical discipline, and mutual intellectual growth? Observing those enthusiastic girls recommending generic romantic novels like *The Kelveron Family’s Tublemaker* or *The Arrogant Lord Robain*, asking for her opinion, convinced her that they perceived reality through a distorted lens.

—The lessons on magic and history from the Ravenclaw Barony were profitable, but interacting with the women of the Rosea Salon is quite sterile for me.

With that apathy, she usually returned to her home in the noble district to lie down on her empty bed. However, wasn’t Evelstain the place she had gone to be instructed? Shouldn’t she learn the culture of the nobility? Instead of rejecting those superfluous activities, participating in them was a sign of respect toward her father, who had sent her for that purpose. Although deep down she yearned to continue her 3-star magic training at the Ravenclaw Barony, Sirine forced a less bored expression and leafed through the books the kind ladies lent her.

—Take it back.
—It lacks depth. The characters seem to have heads full of flowers.
—How is it possible that someone thinks only of romance with the world the way it is? It is cruelty… Besides, Lord Robain has an unbearable attitude…

Her judgment of the readings was implacable. From Sirine’s perspective, the protagonists lacked common sense and the men were incapable of reasoning beyond courtship. Such a frivolous lifestyle would not survive a single day in the harsh winter.

Despite her internal criticisms, Sirine did not stop turning the pages.
One after another.
The rhythm, initially slow, began to accelerate. The fluidity of the text made it difficult to look away. The tragedy of a noble lineage, a hero who reaffirmed his will on the battlefield, the selfless sacrifice of a young woman for the downtrodden, and the climax of a passionate confession… her eyes followed the trail of words rapidly. Between the melancholic passages and some unexpectedly intense moments, she lost track of time as she advanced in her reading.

Next, next.

—”…Mmm…”

The cleaner a canvas is, the more easily it absorbs new pigments. And, unfortunately, Sirine represented that absolute blank canvas.

—

Despite his meticulousness, Melberot ignored a crucial detail. Derek is the most reputable instructor in Evelstain regarding the training of ladies. The aristocracy of that place possesses the most sophisticated and traditional social circle on the continent, led by the members of the Rosea Salon. Melberot trusted that, under Derek’s tutelage in that elite environment, his daughter would transform into an exemplary young lady of whom to be proud.

However, the Rosea Salon was nothing more than the epicenter where the fantasies and love stories of noble women flourished. Frequenting such a place guaranteed making contact with people obsessed with romance. Was it a negative influence? Not necessarily, and in fact, it fit with what Melberot expected. The problem is that desires rarely materialize as one imagines them.

“Melberot… What urgency is there with the sirens for you to contact me at this hour…?”

When Kalimford entered Melberot’s office, he found several advisors already present. From legal experts to key figures of the regional administration. Summoning such ranks—not just the servants—indicated a matter of extreme gravity. Kalimford turned pale upon noticing Melberot’s countenance.

“What is happening…?”
“Everything indicates that Sirine is beginning to experience romantic feelings.”

The advisors looked distraught; Kalimford adopted an expression of absolute seriousness.
“You… what did you just say…?”
“There is no need to elaborate. Sirine has developed affection for someone.”
“Did I hear correctly?”

The archmage, usually imperturbable, stared fixedly at the necromancer. The 6-star mage was stunned, with trembling hands.

“What kind of wretch…! I mean… who even dares…!”
“…”

Kalimford hit the desk with violence, emanating a clear bloodlust.

“It is natural for Sirine, due to her age, to explore her emotions… but it is too soon.”
“I agree, Kalimford.”

It is a universal instinct of parents to consider their daughters “too young” for love, regardless of how old they are. When is the right time? For them, never. Even the most powerful mages in the world are governed by that emotional law.

“We will not allow a stranger to take Sirine. First, we must know who it is.”
“It is Baron Ravenclaw.”
“…”

A sepulchral silence filled the room. Deep down, both Melberot and Kalimford admitted that Baron Ravenclaw was an extremely capable person. However, is there any father who hands over his daughter with joy? None. They would probably prefer to sacrifice their own physical integrity rather than give up their beloved Sirine. Even so, unleashing their fury was irrational. Besides, Sirine’s feelings were not reciprocated: Baron Ravenclaw had not committed any fault. That did not make the situation more digestible. Melberot and Kalimford were overwhelmed by this emotional blow.

“Your Majesty… on what are you basing that claim…?”
“On a father’s intuition.”

When Elden, the legal advisor, managed to break the ice, Melberot answered with absolute determination. Elden did not know how to reply.

“Melberot, what exactly did you notice…?”
“Upon mentioning Baron Ravenclaw, Sirine seemed to blush. I thought it was a consequence of her recent fever, but it does not seem to be the case. It is a suspicion; I possess no firm evidence nor a direct statement.”

Normally, Kalimford would have mocked such an argument. However, on this occasion, he showed a grimace of regret.

“Damn it. If that is the case, we can take it for granted.”
“That is right. I have no doubts.”

No one in the Rochester county could make them change their minds. A father’s affection is dignified, but if it loses its way, it can border on obsession. Although they did not see it, the stunned faces of the advisors, summoned in the middle of the dawn, reflected the absurdity of the moment. Despite everything, the officials knew when it was prudent to keep their objections to themselves. Treasurer Theron smoothed his mustache and bowed with respect.

“Your fears are understandable, my lord. However… Lady Sirine’s feelings could be something immature.”
“Continue, Treasurer.”
“Perhaps it is a sequel to her malaise, or a passing fascination…”
“And what if it is not?”
“…”

Melberot and Kalimford were out of reach of logic at that instant. The treasurer chose to remain silent. Although Melberot was usually the most rational man, everything changed when it came to Sirine. The advisors knew it, although he denied it. All that was left for them was to recommend caution and vigilance.

—

‘I feel like I have reached a point where simple magic training is no longer enough.’

Derek closed and opened his fists while leaning against the outer wall of the residence. Unlike Sirine, who possessed an innate instinct for transformation magic, he needed several layers of clothing to withstand the glacial cold. Although arena duels are better for practice, true mastery lies in mastering mana under any circumstance. While Derek tried to catch his breath, his breath condensed in the freezing air before fading.

While the north remained under the ice, the southwest of the continent would soon enter a warmer season. By the time the vegetation sprouted again, the Ravenclaw Academy should be finished; then he would have to return to Duplein county.

“Having a good guide is luck, but it is not everything.”
—You only stand out when you are at the limit, between life and death.

Phee’s words echoed in his mind, remembering her on the sofa with her snacks and that carefree tone. Although he had faced magical beasts on his journey and trained hard since his arrival, only once had he felt the shadow of death close by. Witnessing Kalimford’s power, that meteor that tore through the firmament, was a direct encounter with the end. At that moment, Derek experienced an internal transformation. Theoretical study of magic could not compare with the pressure of a master of the Wild Flow.

‘Continuing with these monotonous lessons is starting to feel like a waste of time.’

Just when Derek reached that conclusion, a known voice interrupted him: “Derek, what are you doing here?”. The young woman appeared in front of him while he rested against the wall. It felt strange to see her like that; usually, his perspective was from above due to her short stature.

“Lady Sirine.”
“Are you… hurt?”
“No. I’m just resting after exhausting my magical reserves.”
“It’s hot inside. Why stay out here?”
“To get some air before stabilizing my mana flow.”

Sirine watched him in silence, her blonde hair moving with the breeze. Surprisingly, the girl, who usually walked barefoot, wore impeccable shoes and carried her usual outfit protected by a thick fur coat. Derek felt disconcerted by that new appearance. Suddenly, Sirine sat next to him.

“My father worries too much… that’s why I wrap up so much.”

Finally, she looked like a noblewoman appropriate for her age. Derek complimented her appearance before calming his pulse.

“I had never seen you so exhausted from using magic.”
“It’s true. I still have a long way to go.”
“I understand… Derek. The truth is that I have… a doubt. I don’t know who else to turn to…”

The young woman, who for a simple cold put Melberot and Kalimford’s sleep in check, was now seeking serious advice. Her solemnity made Derek become alert.

“A doubt?”
“Yes. Since my father gets anxious about everything, I thought it would be better to ask you.”
“I’m listening. I have nothing urgent to do right now.”
“Actually… this involves you a bit too.”

While Derek looked at her confused, Sirine approached and squeezed his cheek shyly.

“It’s just that… lately I feel strange. …?”
“Every time I see you, or think of you, or when we are close… I feel that my cheeks burn constantly.”

Derek inhaled deeply, processing what he had just heard.

“I thought it was another cold, but maybe not. Maybe it’s just my mind… but it feels very real… I… is it like this?”
“Do you know why it happens? If this is some kind of magic, I don’t want it to cause you problems. I’m worried…”

Behind that young woman were two 6-star mages capable of annihilating anyone with a glance. For Derek, accustomed to mortal dangers, this was the most threatening situation he had experienced in a long time.