The days slipped by, one after another, as though the academy itself had lowered its voice in anticipation of what was to come.

With only two days left before the departure to Vazrun Island, Velthia’s atmosphere had drastically changed. Every first-year scholar could feel the unspoken urgency that left them restless and alert.

The academy’s class or lectures had been withdrawn, postponing their lessons to grant scholars time to prepare.

2 days of preparation for what was to come.

Whether in solitude or in groups, training rooms were filled. Courtyards had become sparring grounds. Libraries, once echoing with idle chatter, now bore a sacred silence. Everyone was sharpening themselves—physically, mentally, and emotionally.

And now, as early evening cast long golden shadows across the cobblestones, Ruvian found himself walking toward a different kind of preparation. The one that was forged through arrangements quietly made behind the scenes.

When he arrived, she was already waiting for him.

The academy garden, often overlooked, had been carved into a soft corner of campus—a sanctuary between the harsh lines of stone halls and training arenas. A place where time moved slowly, where lantern vines curled around silverwood trees and petals floated gently across cobbled paths.

A faint breeze carried the scent of night-blooming flora…

Ruvian stepped softly over the gravel, his boots crunching lightly, and there she was.

Silvena D’Elvoire.

Seated alone on an arched bench under a flowering white tree, her presence felt like it belonged to a still painting. Her legs crossed neatly, her hands folded in her lap, and her head slightly tilted as she looked toward the orange-hue sky.

The quiet grace in her posture held a refined elegance, something nearly sacred in how untouched it was. As though the noise of the world had been silenced before it could ever reach her.

Her emerald hair caught the soft evening light, glimmering faintly. Her face was usually sharp with wit or veiled mischief… was somehow calm today, unreadable, lost in a private thought she had no intention of sharing.

Silvena turned her head slowly, the movement fluid and unhurried as though she had been expecting him the moment he stepped foot in the garden.

“You’re late… again,” she said with a knowing smile that barely touched her lips.

Ruvian smiled faintly, not offering a defense. He didn’t need one. Both of them knew he would come. And both of them knew she would wait. He stepped closer and spoke without preamble. “So, did they manage to secure everything?”

Silvena rose to her feet. The hem of her uniform shifted gently with the breeze as she reached into the inner fold of her coat. “Of course,” she said, eyes beaming with pride.

“You wound me by doubting them. The D’Elvoire Merchant House is the finest in Averenthia—our reputation doesn’t suffer incomplete deliveries.”

From her palm, she revealed a ring—simple, silver, and no gemstones or embellishments to mar its function. A dimensional artifact, capable of storing more than a wagon’s worth. She stepped closer and placed it in his hand, her touch fleeting, her fingers brushing against his with the professionalism of someone sealing a deal.

Then, in a tone that shifted into the businesslike cadence, she began the rundown:

“Inside, you’ll find fifty grams of Nocturne Berries—sun-dried, just as you specified. A sealed jar of Lirenthia leaves, properly treated, with freshness-preserving enchantments. A Grade-D vial of Nullscent Tonic. A fingerless glove that enhanced mana sensitivity.”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“One Grade-A dual enhancement potion: Ravelle’s Prime Elixir. The good one, not the academy-issue variant. Enhances both physical resilience and magical throughput for up to one hour. And four small vials of Night Vision portions."

Ruvian nodded, taking silent note.

"However, I would like to remind you that Night Vision portions of this grade won't be enough for the Vazrun Island's nighttime."

"Don't worry, I know that much."

Silvena was confused and curious by what did he meant by that, but... she decided not to press him.

So, she continued.

“There’s a high-quality field pack, reinforced against moisture and minor spell damage. Four standard healing vials, two revitalization shots, and a handful of dry rations. Nothing gourmet, but they’ll keep you upright.” Her voice faded gently as she finished, her emerald eyes briefly flicking up to meet his.

Ruvian looked down at the ring in his palm, then back at her. “Wow, you didn’t miss a single detail,” he said simply.

Her eyes narrowed. “Oh please, I never do,” she said, low and confident. Silvena watched him for a moment longer, her arms now loosely folded. “…But is that really enough?” she asked softly, tilting her head just a little. “To win against Julian?” Her voice hovered between curiosity and concern.

Ruvian looked at the silver ring again, then closed his fingers over it gently. He smiled, a faint but certain, born not of arrogance but of decision. “Of course not,” he said.

“But I’ll make it happen.”

Silvena studied him, assessing his fellow companion, trying to understand the shape of his resolve.

Then, a playful sigh left her lips. “Well… alright,” she said, a small smirk tugging at her mouth. “I’ll also do what I can, as what we had planned.” (+150PP)

“Good.” Ruvian said.

She turned and didn’t reply, only nodded and walked past him. And just like that, she was gone, leaving silence against the gravel path as the garden’s glow dimmed further behind her.

‘Now, I need to go and see Calyra.

***

The library had quieted into a state that resembled sleep more than silence.

By now, most of the lanterns had dimmed to a low amber glow and the world outside had already surrendered to dusk. Only a few scholars remained, scattered figures tucked into corners, immersed in their final readings before the great test.

Ruvian stepped inside without a word, his footsteps muffled by the soft rug beneath him. He moved toward the seat he always used. And that was when he saw her. Calyra was already there, seated comfortably on the far side of the long table he usually claimed. A thin book lay open in her hands. She was skimming the page.

He stopped a step away from the table.

“How long have you been here?” he asked, his voice soft, casual, almost too natural.

She turned a page without looking up. “A few minutes,” she said flatly.

Ruvian pulled out the chair beside her and sat down slowly. “You have done all your prep for the test?” he asked.

She finally looked up. “I did.” The answer came simply, no trace of uncertainty.

He gave a small nod, then leaned back slightly, his tone shifting.

“…I see. Calyra, I'll be straightforward. I came to ask for your help.”

Her expression didn’t change at first. She blinked once, and then tilted her head very slightly, as if replaying his words in her mind.

“For the Island Test?”

“Yes.”

Calyra raised an eyebrow. “Why?” she asked. There was no hostility in her voice, but the question came with a natural weight. “You do know that every scholar will be graded individually, right? Most of them won’t even help their own squadmates unless it benefits them directly. So…” She paused, studying his face.

“Why should I help you?”

“Shouldn’t I be helping my own squad first?” she added, her tone still light.

Ruvian didn’t look away. “I won’t ask for your help for free,” he said.

He met her eyes. “So, tell me, what do you want in return?”

For the first time, Calyra looked… uncertain. Just a flicker. She lowered her book slightly and gave him a long glance, as though trying to determine if he was being serious or if this was just another cleverly phrased ploy.

“You’re… really leaving it up to me?”

Ruvian tilted his head. “Would it be unfair if I did?”

Then, she set her book down on the table without closing it.

“You’re not even going to suggest anything?”

“No.”

“Just like that?”

“Yes.”

Calyra leaned back, folding her arms across her chest. Her voice dropped to a drier tone, perfectly deadpan.

“So what if I asked for your coat? Or your desk. Or your bed.”

Ruvian raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching. “…Do you want any of those?”

“No. Obviously not. That was a joke.” She blinked at him as though he had misunderstood.

He stifled a short breath of amusement. “Good. Because I don’t think the academy would approve of trading furniture.”

Calyra looked faintly amused. “Then… what can you offer?” she asked quietly. “I want to hear you say it. What do you think I want?”

'Hmm, she's playing it hard.'

Ruvian met her calm gaze without hesitation.

“Anything, as long as it’s reasonable,” he said. His voice was steady. “Something worth your time. Your trust.” (+100PP)

Calyra pondered for a few minutes…

Then, with a voice so casual it nearly passed unnoticed, she said:

“Then, what if I want you?”

“....”

‘HUHH?’

PP= 7350

ME= 355