Chapter 8: Bitter Aftertaste
"Seriously, man, don’t do that again," Adrian said with a helpless sigh. "I can fight my own battles. I didn’t become friends with you just to take advantage of your family name or your status."
"I know," Ilya replied calmly. "But try looking at it from my perspective for a moment. If our positions had been reversed, would you really have stood there and gritted your teeth while they insulted me?"
"That’s..."
Adrian opened his mouth to answer, only for the words to stop.
The silence itself was enough of a response.
By the time the two of them had left the corridor, they had naturally gravitated toward one of the academy’s quieter corners, a secluded staircase hidden away from the main buildings where students rarely wandered unless they had a reason to.
It had gradually become one of their group’s regular gathering spots over the past few months, serving as a place where they could enjoy a rare moment of peace without attracting unnecessary attention.
Leaning against the wall, Ilya exhaled a stream of cigarette smoke, while Adrian remained seated on one of the steps.
"But, you know..." Adrian began. "That girl back there... she wasn’t entirely wrong."
Ilya glanced at him.
"No one’s brought it up out of respect for you," Adrian continued. "But... maybe it’s about time you started hanging around people who are on the same wavelength as you."
"Am I becoming a burden to you guys?"
"No," Adrian answered immediately, shaking his head. "That’s not what I’m saying at all."
He let out a weary sigh before continuing.
"Come on, Ilya. I know you don’t see us the way everyone else does, and I appreciate that. But whether the rumors are true or not doesn’t really matter anymore. The academy has already decided what kind of people we are, and every time you’re seen with us, your reputation sinks along with ours."
He looked up at Ilya.
"You’re different from us."
"How so?"
"You still have somewhere to go."
Ilya stared at him for a moment before letting out an amused breath.
All of a sudden, he leaned down until he was directly in front of Adrian, who looked up in confusion, only for Ilya to blow a small puff of cigarette smoke into his face.
"Hey," Ilya said with a grin. "Not cool, man."
"Cough...!"
Adrian waved the smoke away with an annoyed expression.
"The hell was that for?"
"Are you kicking me out already?" Ilya asked. "I thought this little club accepted all kinds of failures."
"I didn’t say that."
"Sure sounded like it."
Adrian let out a long sigh before rubbing his forehead.
"What I’m trying to say is that we’re already at the end of the road," he said. "Most of us have accepted that, one way or another. You, on the other hand, still have a chance to turn things around, so I’d rather not be one of the reasons you end up staying stuck here with us."
The teasing smile gradually disappeared from Ilya’s face, and instead of answering, he reached over and lightly flicked Adrian on the forehead.
"Ow!"
"Don’t tell me who I’m supposed to hang out with," Ilya said. "Who do you think you are? My mother?"
Adrian stared at him for a moment before bursting into laughter.
But eventually, the smile gradually faded from his face.
"But... there’s something I haven’t told anyone in the group yet. Nothing’s final, so I didn’t want to say anything too early... but I might be dropping out before the semester ends."
"...."
Ilya’s eyes widened, the cigarette nearly slipping from between his lips.
"...Why?"
Adrian lowered his gaze.
"You already know the story. My family still owes House Hohenberg a fortune, and as much as I hate admitting it, the bastard I punched today wasn’t lying. His family is practically paying for my education."
He let out a bitter laugh before shaking his head.
"With grades like mine, a scholarship was never realistic. My father keeps insisting we’ll manage somehow, but... I want to lighten the burden..."
He paused for a moment before continuing.
"So I’ve been looking into recruitment notices for Knight Orders. There’s a smaller order that’s currently accepting applicants, and the pay isn’t bad. If I enlist now, I’ll at least be able to start sending money home instead of draining what little my family has left."
Ilya quietly listened.
The problem, however, was that dropping out came at a tremendous cost.
Students who graduated from Holy Trinity Academy left not only with years of formal training but also with an academy certification recognized throughout the Empire.
That single credential opened the doors to the prestigious Knight Orders directly affiliated with the Imperial Army, powerful noble houses, and influential organizations whose salaries, equipment, and opportunities for advancement far exceeded those available elsewhere.
Someone like Adrian, who planned on leaving before graduating, would have none of that.
Without an academy diploma or noteworthy achievements to distinguish himself, the best he could realistically hope for was recruitment into a minor provincial Knight Order or a local garrison responsible for guarding small towns, escorting merchant caravans, or maintaining order within rural territories.
It was honest work, but it offered little prestige, modest pay, and almost no opportunity to rise beyond the rank-and-file through merit alone.
In other words, Adrian wouldn’t be beginning his career from the bottom.
He would be spending the rest of it there.
"...I see."
There was very little Ilya could say, because the reality Adrian faced wasn’t something a few encouraging sentences could change.
No matter how carefully he chose his words, they would remain exactly that—words.
There wasn’t anything meaningful he could offer either. He was still living on the allowance provided by his family, making any financial help little more than charity funded by someone else’s money.
More importantly, Ilya knew Adrian well enough to understand that offering him money now would only insult his pride.
Adrian wasn’t searching for pity or handouts. He had already made the difficult decision to shoulder his family’s burden himself, and trying to fix his situation with a pouch of coins would only insult the determination that had led Adrian to make this choice.
In the end, Ilya simply took another drag from his cigarette.
Sometimes, the only thing a friend could do was listen.
"Wow~ What’s with the gloomy atmosphere over here?" a playful voice called out from above. "Don’t tell me you two were getting it on? Same-sex relationships are illegal, you know?"
The two of them looked up.
Leaning casually over the stairwell railing and peering down at them was one of the noble girls from their group, Helene.
"Yeah," Ilya replied. "You just barged in during the best part."
"Oh, noooo~ Then I have no choice but to stop you two from committing a crime~"
A mischievous grin spread across her face before she leisurely descended the staircase, showing not the slightest concern for whatever serious conversation she had interrupted.
Without asking for permission, Helene reached into Ilya’s coat pocket, fished out his cigarette pack, and skillfully slipped one free.
She lit it, took a slow drag, and exhaled a stream of smoke before leaning comfortably against the wall beside Ilya.
"So gloomy," she remarked, glancing between the two men. "I heard there was some kind of scuffle on the second building. I figured there was a decent chance you two idiots had something to do with it."
"Yeah."
"Huh." Helene clicked her tongue. "Those bastards really think we’re easy pickings, don’t they?"
She smirked before giving Ilya a light jab in the shoulder.
"Come on, show them the might of the Northerners, Ilya. Isn’t your homeland supposed to produce monsters who wrestle bears before breakfast?"
"Not entirely wrong," Ilya replied with a perfectly straight face. "It’s considered a winter sport over there."
"Huh." Helene blinked. "Then... what does bear meat taste like?"
Ilya pretended to think about it for a moment.
"Chewy."
"...That’s it?"
"Well, what were you expecting?" Ilya asked with a shrug. "It’s meat. Just... considerably angrier."
Helene narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "I still can’t tell when you’re joking."
"Neither can I..." Adrian muttered.
Helene took another drag from her cigarette before letting out a defeated sigh.
"You Northerners are so damn strange," she complained. "Every story about your homeland sounds so absurd that I can’t figure out where the lies end and the truth begins."
Ilya casually leaned back against the wall.
"To be fair," he said, "that’s exactly how we prefer it. The fewer people who know what’s actually true about the North, the more entertaining it becomes whenever someone visits."
"...One of these days, I’m going to visit just to fact-check every ridiculous thing you’ve told me."
"I look forward to your disappointment."
Their idle conversation continued for a few minutes before another voice suddenly echoed down from the staircase above.
"Finally found you."
All three instinctively looked up.
Descending the steps with graceful strides was a woman whose silver hair shimmered under the afternoon sunlight streaming through the academy windows.
It was Anastasiya.
Without sparing Adrian or Helene so much as a passing glance, Anastasiya walked straight toward Ilya.
The moment she reached him, she slapped the cigarette from between his fingers before seizing him by the front of his uniform and forcing him to meet her gaze.
"You never fucking learn, do you?" she said coldly. "Are you mentally challenged, Ilya?"
"U-Um..." Adrian cautiously raised a hand. "L-Lady Anastasiya... this one wasn’t Ilya’s fault. It started because of me. He was only trying to—"
"Shut it. I wasn’t talking to you."
The staircase fell silent.
Even Helene, who rarely hesitated to joke with anyone, wisely kept her mouth shut.
Everyone present could tell that Anastasiya wasn’t interested in determining who had been right or wrong. She had already reached her conclusion the moment she heard Ilya’s name attached to another altercation.
Anastasiya never once took her eyes off her younger brother.
"I leave you alone for a single evening, and somehow you manage to spend the night away from home without informing the household, only for the next thing I hear to be that you’ve involved yourself in yet another fight before noon. Tell me, Ilya, exactly how much more disgrace do you intend to bring upon this family?"
Ilya remained silent.
Anastasiya reached into the leather satchel hanging at her side before taking out a folded set of official academy documents.
Without even thinking it over, she pressed them firmly against his chest.
"Enough."
"...."
"These are your academy withdrawal papers. Sign them."
The staircase fell completely silent.
"Right now," Anastasiya continued. "You’re leaving the Knight Department, you’re leaving this academy, and you’re returning to the Northern Duchy. I’ve tolerated your childish stubbornness for long enough, and I’m no longer interested in entertaining it."
"This isn’t fair, Lady Anastasiya," Helene finally interjected, unable to stay silent any longer. "You weren’t even there when everything happened. At the very least, shouldn’t you hear what actually took place before making a decision like this?"
Only then did Anastasiya’s gaze shift away from Ilya.
It was a brief glance, cold enough to make Helene tense up.
"I know enough."
"With all due respect, you don’t," Adrian spoke up. "Those three were the ones who started everything. They cornered me first, Ilya only stepped in afterward, and they shifted their insults toward him. I was the one who lost my temper and threw the punch."
"And?"
"...And Ilya was trying to stop it."
Anastasiya’s expression did not change in the slightest.
"My brother has an unfortunate habit of involving himself in matters that do not concern him. Whether he threw the punch himself or merely chose to stand beside the person who did is ultimately irrelevant. The outcome is always the same."
Her blue eyes slowly returned to Ilya.
"His name becomes attached to yet another incident."
"...."
"...."
Neither Helene nor Adrian knew how to answer. They wanted to argue, yet the person before them was not just Ilya’s older sister.
She was the future Grand Duchess of the North, the heir to one of the Empire’s most powerful noble houses, someone whose status was so far above their own that, under ordinary circumstances, they would never even have the opportunity to address her directly.
The difference in standing was simply too great.
At last, Ilya spoke.
"Anastasiya."
It was the first time since she arrived that he had directly addressed her.
"I’ll leave the academy," he said. "I’ll return home, just as you want."
"Good, then—"
"But understand this."
"...."
"The moment the three of us sit down at the dinner table with Father and Mother, I’ll slit my own throat in front of all of you."
"...."
No one moved.
The staircase fell deathly silent, as though even the air had frozen in place.
"...."
"...."
Adrian’s eyes widened in disbelief, while Helene slowly lowered the cigarette from her lips, neither of them able to process what they had just heard.
"Give me that."
Without waiting for a response, Ilya reached forward and took the withdrawal papers from Anastasiya’s hands.
He calmly took out a fountain pen from inside his coat and lowered the nib onto the document, beginning to write his name.
"...."
Anastasiya remained completely motionless.
For the first time since arriving, the certainty in her eyes disappeared. She stared blankly at the paper for only a moment before suddenly snatching it from his hands.
The folded documents crumpled in her grip.
Riiip——
Another second passed before she tore them cleanly in half.
Ilya silently watched the pieces fall to the floor.
"...Why? Isn’t this what you wanted?"
"...."
Anastasiya’s fingers tightened around the crumpled papers as the muscles in her jaw tensed.
For several long moments, she just stood there, staring at Ilya as though searching for words that refused to come.
Then, she clenched her fists.
Thud——!
Without another word, Anastasiya suddenly shoved him in the chest.
The force sent Ilya back a step, not enough to knock him off balance, but enough to break the distance between them.
She turned around.
"...."
Not another word escaped her lips.
With hurried steps, Anastasiya ascended the staircase, her silver hair swaying behind her as she disappeared from view without looking back even once.
"...."
Ilya’s eyes remained fixed on the staircase for several moments, following her until there was nothing left to see.
"Tsk."
Only then did he slowly reach into his coat, retrieve another cigarette, and strike a flame against the lighter.
He took a long drag before exhaling a stream of smoke into the cold air.
This time, however, something felt different.
Instead of the usual trail of cigarette smoke dispersing into the air, what escaped his lips resembled the pale white mist one would expect to see on a freezing winter morning.
"...?"
The air around him had grown noticeably colder.
"Ilya?"
He paid Adrian’s voice no mind.
He slowly lifted his gaze and looked around the secluded staircase.
Frost had crept across the stone under his feet, while a faint chill spread through the air with every passing second.
Yet as his Domain gradually bled into reality once more, he found himself unable to tell where one ended and the other began.
"...Ah."
Ilya realized.
This cold... this frozen world... and reality...
There really wasn’t much difference between them at all.
"I-Ilya... Y-you’re... producing ice magic..."
Because, to him, both worlds were hell itself, slowly killing him from the inside.
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