A sudden ripple of light tore through the air above the clearing, and a glowing blue portal shimmered open. The wind rushed outward in a small burst as a tall figure stepped through, his black robe flowing like rippling ink under the midday sun.

Professor Dexter Quilt emerged, his boots touching the grass softly as the portal closed behind him. He carried an elegant silver-tipped staff that pulsed faintly with mana, and the sunlight caught the sharp edges of his spectacles. His expression was stern yet controlled... a man in his thirties, young enough to move swiftly, yet seasoned enough to command respect.

He looked around the clearing, scanning the faces of the silent students and the massive golem standing still like a silent guardian. His brows furrowed. "I sensed a massive surge of distress mana..." His tone was edged with urgency. "Who triggered it?"

All eyes turned toward the wounded Professor Galahad, still leaning weakly against the tree the golem had carried him with. His cracked glasses caught the light as he lifted his head slightly. "It was me," Galahad said in a hoarse, tired voice. "I sent the distress signal... during the rescue."

Dexter's calm composure shifted into concern. He stepped closer, staff glowing faintly as he knelt near Galahad. "What happened to you?" he asked, his voice tightening. "You look—" He stopped, noticing the bruises along Galahad's jaw and the way his legs didn't move.

Galahad gave a faint chuckle, though pain colored his breath. "A bit careless... during the fall. The broom lost control midair. I... tried to reach her."

Dila stepped forward, her hand clutching her Archane staff. "Professor... it's my—"

But Galahad raised his left hand weakly, cutting her off with a gentle motion. His cracked glasses hid his eyes, but his voice carried quiet warmth. "Don't. You did what you could."

Dila froze, lowering her head, guilt still burning in her chest.

Professor Dexter exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "You should've called sooner. That fall could've—"

"I know," Galahad interrupted softly, coughing hard into his fist. "But we're both alive. That's what matters." He struggled to sit straighter, clutching his side. "Professor Dexter... we should head back now. The class is postponed."

Dexter hesitated for a second, then nodded firmly. "Understood." He lifted his staff, tracing a circle in the air. The faint hum of teleportation magic surrounded them, a cool wind swirling around the clearing.

The students stood silent, their earlier excitement and whispers now replaced with quiet worry.

As the teleportation spell began to glow, Dila turned to the professor one last time. Her eyes shimmered faintly with remorse as she whispered, "I'm sorry..."

Galahad smiled faintly through his pain. "You saved me... that's more than enough."

And with a flash of light, the air rippled...

The forest fell still again, the giant golem fading into dust as the portal carried them all back toward the academy.

The bright shimmer of teleportation emerged into the soft glow of the academy's grand classroom. In an instant, everyone was back where they belonged... seated neatly in their respective chairs as though they had never left. The students blinked in confusion, looking around at the polished marble floor and tall glass windows that flooded the room with afternoon light.

Canopy rubbed his temples. "What just... happened?" he muttered, his tone a mix of shock and disbelief. His gaze darted toward Dila, who sat motionless at her desk near the side. Her Archane staff had already vanished, and her silver hair fell over her face, shadowing her expression. She didn't say a word... her fingers were gripping the edge of her table, trembling faintly.

On the front floor of the classroom, Professor Galahad lay on his back, his robe crumpled and his cracked glasses still hanging crookedly from his face. His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, and streaks of dirt still clung to his sleeves.

Beside him, Professor Dexter Quilt stood, his staff hovering at his side—glowing faintly like it was alive. Without hesitation, Dexter knelt down beside his injured colleague. "Come on, Professor... you shouldn't be lying here," he said softly, his tone gentle but firm.

Galahad let out a weak chuckle. "It's fine... just a bit dizzy, that's all."

Dexter turned his back toward him and lowered himself slightly. "Enough bravado. Let me carry you." He extended his hand backward, waiting patiently.

Galahad blinked for a moment, hesitant, then smiled faintly in gratitude. Slowly, painfully, he placed his arms around Dexter's shoulders and pulled himself onto his back. Dexter stood with effort, his hands gripping Galahad's arms firmly to steady him.

The floating staff followed them, circling once like a watchful guardian before returning to its place at Dexter's side.

As the quiet filled the room again, Galahad coughed hard into his sleeve. "And again... class is postponed," he managed to say hoarsely. "Return to your dorms, everyone."

Dexter glanced at him sharply. "Careful, Professor... don't speak too much," he murmured, concern etched across his face.

The students rose from their seats slowly, murmuring in confusion and relief. Chairs scraped softly against the polished floor as they began to file out, their chatter fading through the corridor.

Only Dila and Canopy remained.

Canopy looked toward her—his usual carefree tone gone, replaced by quiet worry. He stepped closer, leaning slightly toward her desk. "Are you okay... High Princess?" he asked carefully, not too loud, afraid to push her.

But Dila didn't answer. Her head stayed bowed, her silver hair falling forward like a curtain. Her hands trembled slightly against the desk's surface, and her shoulders rose and fell with quiet, uneven breaths.

The sunlight through the window touched her face faintly... but her eyes were hidden in the shadows.

Canopy hesitated for a moment. His hand hovered uncertainly behind her back, unsure if it was right to touch her. Dila sat there, trembling faintly, her head lowered and her silver hair falling like a curtain over her face. She looked so fragile... so distant from everything around her.

Finally, he gathered the courage and gently placed his hand on her back. The moment his palm touched her, he could feel her warmth... faint and delicate. He slowly rubbed her back, trying to comfort her in the only way he could. Some of her hair brushed against his fingers—soft... impossibly soft, like silk slipping through his hand.

For a second, he froze. ( She's so soft... and her hair smells like flowers...) he thought, his heart skipping a beat. Then he quickly shook his head, snapping himself back. ( No, no, focus!) He turned his head to the side as if to shake away the thought.

He forced a small, reassuring smile and said softly, "Are you really okay, High Princess? Don't worry... you didn't do anything wrong. It was just an accident. You didn't mean it." His voice was warm, trying to reach through the quiet around them. "There's no harm done... but hey, at least you did your best."

He smiled again, hoping she would respond, but Dila didn't move. She stayed still, her expression unreadable, eyes distant. The wind that slipped through the room brushed past them, while carrying the faint sound of birds far away... yet the silence between them felt heavier than anything.

Dila's voice came out soft… almost breaking. "Go away please, Prince Canopy… I'm not in the mood right now."

Her tone wasn't harsh, but it carried a weight that struck deeper than anger. It was quiet, fragile… like someone holding herself together through exhaustion.

Canopy froze, his hand stop still comforting her. Then he slowly lowered it. His expression tightened for a second… and then he gave a small nod. "Oky…" he whispered, his voice low, almost swallowed by the quiet room. He turned around, trying to hide the faint sadness in his eyes. His steps were heavy as he walked away, each one feeling like it sank into the marble floor.

Dila didn't look up. She couldn't bring herself to. Her hands rested on her lap, cold, motionless. She could still feel the warmth of his hand lingering faintly on her back… and somehow that made her chest tighten even more.

☆ Master… don't dwell on it too long… ☆ Nari's frail voice echoed softly in her mind. ☆ We still have good things far ahead of us… we can explore…☆

Dila's expression tensed slightly. Her eyes trembled with irritation as she whispered in her thoughts, ( Nari… it's not about exploring… it's about someone's wellbeing…)

Nari's presence fell silent for a moment, faint, Then, in a small, apologetic tone, Nari spoke again, ☆ I'm sorry master…☆

Dila lowered her head even more, eyes glimmering faintly. "It's fine…" she murmured under her breath, though her voice carried a hollow ache that lingered in the quiet air around her.

minutes had passed in silence. The faint rustle of leaves outside the window was the only sound that filled the empty classroom. Dila slowly lifted her head, her hair falling gently over her shoulders. Her voice came out quiet but steadier than before.

"You know what…" she murmured, her tone soft yet trembling with faint hope. "I'll believe… Professor Galahad will be oky."

She looked down at her hands, her fingers curling slightly as if clinging to that fragile thought. "I just… I hope he won't be disabled because of his legs…" Her lips pressed together, voice barely audible. "That's what I'm worried about the most. It's my fault that he fell like that… but still… I just wish he'll be okay."

She exhaled deeply, a small sigh that carried both relief and guilt. Slowly, she leaned forward, resting her cheek against the wooden desk. Her silver hair spilled softly across her arm as her eyes drifted toward the blackboard ahead.

The room felt bigger now, emptier… the faint chalk marks on the board blurry through her half-lidded gaze. Her lips puckered unconsciously into a small pout as she whispered a quiet, drawn-out sound.

"Hmmm…"

It was the sound of a girl caught between worry and comfort, guilt and hope. The faintest curve of a smile touched her face, though her eyes still shimmered with thought. For the first time since the accident, she didn't feel entirely crushed. Just… tired, but holding on.

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