episode_0147

“…”

Kristin chose not to answer the question and simply walked in the opposite direction of where Eric had gone.

“Hey!”

“I’ve said all I had to say. From now on, you can do as you please, unnie.”

“I would have done so without your permission.”

Elia didn’t force Kristin to stay. As she had mentioned earlier, inciting Eric to secure the chairman’s cooperation had been her own unilateral decision.

While she had anticipated backlash from the other three members, she never expected Kristin to act so independently. Especially since Kristin had once agreed directly with her that Eric needed to be protected.

“But I can’t say I don’t understand,” Elia muttered.

Kristin’s outburst echoed her own lingering doubts. No matter how benevolent Eric claimed to be, his words were the only assurance they had.

“And there’s the matter of his memories…”

Kristin hadn’t summoned Elia here for no reason. Choosing her alone—excluding Lucilla and Cecilia—meant she didn’t want the truth about Eric to spread. Yet at the same time, Kristin had intended to reveal everything to Elia.

Elia’s mind raced, analyzing countless possibilities, suspicions, and deductions, until she finally let out a small sigh.

“Sigh… I don’t know. This is too troublesome.”

At this point, she simply lacked enough information.

What had driven Kristin to provoke Eric like that? Or—was her outburst even genuine in the first place?

The Kristin Grave Elia knew was far too sharp for impulsive emotional outbursts.

Without grounds to decide whether to share Eric’s secret or how to act, all Elia could do for now was pretend nothing had happened.

Taking unilateral action wasn’t her style, and worsening Eric’s situation was the last thing she wanted.

“Regardless, Eric and Lucilla will stick together for a while. What I should focus on is…”

With that, Elia vanished from the spot as seamlessly as she had appeared—as if no one had ever been there.

———–

“All members of the Student Council must find dance partners. This is a long-standing tradition, an Academy custom! And yet, I haven’t received a single application! I demand an explanation!”

The day after Chris made her shocking confession, we were all gathered in the Student Council room again. Despite her words, Chris herself sat calmly, as if nothing had happened—making it almost comical for me to speak up first.

After all, though Chris had returned home that night, we hadn’t exchanged a single word. Having stubbornly cut off communication to avoid playing into her whims, it didn’t feel right for me to reach out now.

So today, I planned to quietly follow the president’s lead while discreetly seeking a chance to get closer to Chris—until the president barged in like an enraged bull, obliterating that plan.

“President, since when was this mandatory? The ball was supposed to be voluntary, with participants pairing up as they wished.”

As Chris pointed out, the Academy Ball was structured in pairs, with participation entirely voluntary.

Meaning, unless students willingly formed pairs themselves, they couldn’t even attend.

For students like me, who’d struggled to talk to people before, it was regrettable—but this, too, was part of the Academy’s test.

The Empire had no use for those who couldn’t even manage basic social interactions.

Of course, there were often shady attempts to force pairings—coercion, bribes, threats—but that was precisely why the Student Council existed: to prevent such incidents.

“Besides, don’t you find it absurd for us to be the ones reviewing our own applications?”

“Cecilia, what nonsense are you spouting?! The Piend Festival Ball is a sacred tradition. As Student Council members, we must honor it!”

“Wow, that sounded just like my father. giggle”

“Ugh… While being compared to Count Rustal is an honor…”

“I’m well aware of tradition’s importance. But do we really need to make ourselves public spectacles?”

“Spectacles?! If anyone dares mock Her Highness Elia, the Empire’s princess, for dancing, I’ll drag them before the Council myself! Hmph!”

“With all due respect, President, there’s still one problem you haven’t considered.”

“Hm? A problem?”

“We don’t have partners.”

“Ah.”

Cecilia had a point.

“Even if we obediently set an example—excuse me, became spectacles—do you really think anyone would step forward to dance with us?”

“That’s…”

As the president hesitated, Lucilla, who had been silent until now, delivered the final blow.

“Did you find a partner, President?”

“GYAHH!”

Letting out a villainous scream straight out of a cartoon, the president collapsed into her chair. I shook my head, watching her.

“It’s simple when you think about it, President. Consider why the Student Council is recognized by everyone.”

The Student Council, lofty as it sounded, was essentially a gathering of people ordinary students couldn’t approach casually.

A major merchant heir, a Saint candidate, the Empire’s princess, scions of the ducal houses—and even a commoner under their complete protection.

No matter what the Student Council had originally been, under President Lin Sishi, it had warped into something unreachable.

“People naturally admire those superior to them, but if the gap feels insurmountable, they abandon even trying to reach them.”

“Nonsense! I refuse to believe I’ve raised such weak-minded students!”

No one took her parental tone seriously.

“The applications speak for themselves, President. Admit it—we won’t find proper partners.”

And I was part of that problem.

For them, approaching the Student Council was daunting; for me, no one wanted to apply in the first place.

Dave and Sheryl had submitted their applications ages ago, and even those I might’ve asked had already paired up. Even Jim, my last resort, had already applied.

That left me with only four options in this room—plus the president.

And of course, I’d be the one suffering for it.

Subtly shifting my gaze, I surveyed the four in the council room.

Of course. All four locked eyes with me the moment I looked away.

None wanted me as compensation for past events or out of arrogance.

To them, it was simply natural—because I was their only viable option.

Elia, the Empire’s most likely next Empress? Out of the question.

Being the dance partner of the princess?

That amounted to publicly declaring ambition for the throne and willingness to endure the political storms around her.

Cecilia, as the Saint candidate backed by the Church, was similarly untenable.

That left Chris and Lucilla.

Chris, with her vast following across the Academy, was also out.

If she chose anyone—or if anyone dared approach her first—that day might mark the Academy’s civil war.

The last option was Lucilla.

But among commoners, she was too far above them; among nobles, she was too far beneath.

Well, nobles likely didn’t want to bow to someone vastly superior yet technically a commoner.

So here we were.