Soon enough, Michael found himself relegated to the lounge, head lowered as he endured a full-blown lecture—from none other than Melody. The same spoiled noble who had defied Professor Quinn's orders and used magic, leading to the gravity punishment their entire class had suffered.

"Hold on, I still don't get what he did wrong…" Rudy chimed in from the side. "You're saying Michael's spell didn't even touch them?"

Melody frowned. "An attack is an attack, whether it lands or not," she replied. "With someone as prideful as Braydon, I doubt he'll let this slide."

"He was already targeting me because of your father," Michael snapped, forgetting his audience. "What's changed now?"

"Her father?" Rudy echoed, eyes narrowing in confusion.

Melody's eyes widened for a split second before she scowled, shooting Michael a sharp glare for his slip. Just as she opened her mouth to make an excuse, Michael stood.

"Alright, that's enough lying," he declared, clearly done with the charade. "Melody and I aren't actually engaged. It was a ruse—something her father came up with to protect her from the noble scions at the academy."

Both teens stared at him, though their reactions couldn't have been more different.

"Michael!" Melody gasped, visibly agitated. "You weren't supposed to say that!"

Rudy remained silent. His expression darkened as he looked between the two. "And you agreed to this willingly?" he asked, his voice low and edged with something sharp.

Without a word, Michael lifted his right hand, summoning the glowing contract seal etched on the back. The deep green shimmer caught the light—and Rudy's attention.

In a flash, Rudy reached out and grabbed Michael's hand, yanking it closer to examine. His grip was firm, his gaze tense—almost threatening.

Seconds passed before his furrowed brow eased. Still, he didn't relax entirely.

"It's not a slave contract…" he muttered with visible relief. Releasing Michael's hand, he turned his attention to Melody. "Care to explain yourself?" His tone left no room for games.

"T-this was something my father set up when Michael first joined our household," she said, instantly defensive. "It's nothing sinister—just a vow of protection. I swear."

Rudy turned back to Michael, his eyes wordlessly demanding confirmation.

"She's telling the truth," Michael said with a nod. "That's what the contract was at the time. But that doesn't include the request her father made before we left for the academy."

Taking a breath, Michael explained the situation as plainly as he could. He kept his tone neutral, choosing not to sugarcoat or embellish. He had always planned to tell Rudy eventually—better to do it now, openly.

Melody had already taken a seat by then, her silence an unspoken agreement to let the explanation stand.

"I don't understand noble politics," Rudy said at last, his gaze shifting to Melody. "And sorry if this sounds blunt, but…"

"Just say it," she interrupted with a tired sigh.

"Why are they going through so much trouble just to get your hand?" Rudy asked, baffled. "I mean—sure, you're pretty, but your temperament is a little…"

Michael clamped a hand over his mouth, barely stifling the laugh that surged up his throat. The comment had been so sincere, it caught him completely off guard.

It didn't take long to feel the heat of a glare drilling into the side of his face—but he ignored it, doing his best to maintain composure. Just as he opened his mouth to respond, a sharp pain flared across the back of his right hand.

The contract seal glowed faintly—barely visible, yet unmistakably painful.

Michael's brow furrowed. I should only feel that pain if I'm close to breaking the terms of the contract.

"My mother is the king's sister," Melody said abruptly, taking the initiative.

"EH!? You're a royal?" Rudy blurted, his jaw practically hitting the floor.

Of all the revelations so far, this one struck him the hardest. He stared at Melody in utter disbelief, eyes wide, mouth still slightly agape.

"Technically, yes," she admitted. "But we're more of a branch family. That's why my parents were given Whitevalley Town instead of a post closer to the capital."

Rudy finally nodded, clearing his throat. "I guess that explains why nobles are throwing themselves at you," he said, leaning back in his chair.

Michael exhaled, a weight lifting from his chest now that Rudy knew the truth. Keeping things hidden from him had become suffocating. Despite their short time together—barely more than a week—the bond between them felt deeper than that.

"If that's the case," Rudy added, "I doubt Braydon or the other nobles will let up… not after getting embarrassed this morning."

Both Michael and Melody nodded, their expressions mirroring the same quiet dread.

"Which is why," Rudy declared, his eyes lighting up, "we all need to work together."

When the other two raised their eyebrows in unison, he flashed a crooked grin.

"My Pa always said: 'Three heads are better than one…'" he paused, "...especially since my two brothers only had half a brain each."

His loud, infectious laugh filled the lounge, breaking the tension like a shattered spell. Even Melody cracked a small smile, while Michael chuckled more freely this time.

That single moment of levity eased something heavy in Michael's chest.

He's right, Michael thought. I've been so focused on my own struggles… I never once considered how Melody might be feeling.

The realization stung. It revealed a bitter truth—one he hadn't been ready to face. For all his complaints, he had acted selfishly. Perhaps he was more like his father than he'd care to admit… and far less like his saintly mother.

Almost instinctively, Michael turned—and so did Melody. Their eyes met, unspoken thoughts passing between them.

Both teens shifted awkwardly, but neither looked away. Not immediately.

"I'm sorry for acting rashly," Michael said, his voice soft, sincere. The clarity brought on by reflection left no room for pride.

Melody didn't respond right away, but her expression softened.

She wasn't just another noble girl. She was a target—the target. A high-value pawn in a deadly game of noble power, caught in circumstances she never asked for.

Just like him.

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