I'll Cheer for You from the Heart
When you bump into someone in the hallway who truly hates you, what should you do? In truth, Lily had never really had much choice in situations like this before. In a society bound by rigid class structures, a girl from a slave background was always in the weaker position.
People always despised slaves. They couldn't live without them, yet they viewed slaves as filthy and lowly. So, the response was always the same in cases like this: a fist, a slap, or a kick. Honestly, she figured it wouldn't be any different this time. It was Clara, after all—the one who'd always looked down on her, despised her for being a former slave.
That might have been why.
"..."
"..."
Clara stared at her in a daze, and Lily found herself flustered without knowing why. The two girls, slumped on the floor, gazed at each other blankly for a moment. As if bracing themselves for whatever words the other might hurl.
Lily was the one who broke the foolish standoff. She shook her head to clear the haze, gathered her scattered textbooks from the floor, hugged them to her chest, and stood up. She deliberately avoided looking at Clara. Simple reason: she didn't expect anything good to come from talking to someone who hated her guts.
She just turned and walked away without a word. Even if Lily was tough. Even if she'd grown used to harsh words over the years... she didn't have a hobby of seeking out abuse.
So she tried to leave without a second thought.
"Ugh...!"
Until a pitiful voice came from behind her. Lily's footsteps halted a few paces past the fallen Clara. Five minutes until the next class. Skipping class this early in the semester wasn't smart. She was already drawing enough stares as the supposed owner of the Olive Wand; being late would only fuel the rumors.
"Just go..."
She muttered to herself, but Clara's eyes flashed in her mind. They weren't the eyes of someone who hated her. Those clear, topaz-like pupils swirled with complex emotions. Hard to imagine from a noble lady raised in luxury. They were more like... the eyes of the slave kids she'd lived with.
Lily closed her eyes and looked up at the sky, recalling her resolve from her first day at the academy: I'll make sure no other kids end up like me. Why was that coming back to her now?
"Haa... what am I even doing?"
Well, she had to stick with Clara during practical exams anyway, like it or not. No point in making enemies. Lily sighed deeply, tucked all her books under her left arm, turned halfway around, and looked down at Clara clutching her ankle.
Among the first-year curriculum at the academy was a lesson on magical immunity: if your mana was overwhelmingly high, you became resistant to the magic of your own affinity. Clara was the same. A saintess—a walking mass of holy power in human form. Ironically, she couldn't use her own magic on herself.
"Hey."
"...?"
Lily extended her right hand to the seated Clara.
"Grab on. I'll take you to the infirmary."
What do you do when you bump into someone in the hallway who seems like they'd hate you? In truth, Clara had never had much choice in situations like this before. She was forced to be the perfect saintess—no mistakes allowed. A saintess must always be prim and proper. She couldn't show disarray in public or make errors.
So the consequence was always the same: punishment. Of course, they couldn't lay hands directly on a saintess candidate. The Lumeun tribe inflicted subtle punishments on Clara. For un-saintly behavior, she'd be locked in a stark white one-mat isolation room for days. All she got was barely edible food to avoid starvation and a single holy scripture.
The only way to track time was the bathroom breaks every twelve hours. That small, blindingly white room crushed her free will, locking it deep inside. Kids aren't machines; treat them that way, and they break. But the Lumeun tribe didn't get it. Stuck in the boonies while others advanced, they had no proper child-rearing doctrine.
That might have been why. Even though she no longer faced isolation, Clara froze in terror. The imprinted fear was powerful.
Thankfully, Lily just stood without saying a word. Clara didn't ask why. They passed it off in silence; she feared speaking up might annoy her. Clara tried to gather her books and stand too.
"Ugh...!"
Right then, stabbing pain shot through her ankle. Her leg buckled, and she collapsed again. Her face stiffened. Lily must have heard. Showing weakness was embarrassing—worse, worrisome. What if someone saw her like this? What if her reputation shook? What if... Father heard?
She knew it was silly, but the isolation memories terrified her more.
Lily's face paled.
"Ugh...!"
But her body wouldn't obey. She flailed to stand, but her ankle only swelled more. As her body trembled—
"Hey."
"...?"
A voice came—cool yet kind.
"Grab on. I'll take you to the infirmary."
Clara looked up instinctively. There stood the black-haired girl, backlit by sunlight, hand outstretched. She seemed to glow, and Clara grabbed it without thinking. By the time she snapped out of it, it was too late.
"Hold tight. If you drop the books, I'm not picking them up."
One arm already around Lily's neck, she was being supported as they walked.
Clara couldn't comprehend it. She'd called Lily a slave, demeaned her—even in front of Olivia. Why help now? The world she'd known punished mistakes harshly; it wasn't this kind.
"...Why are you helping me?"
"Huh?"
"I insulted and condemned you. I was busy badmouthing you even in front of Lady Olivia... Why treat me like this?"
Lily said nothing on the way to the first-floor infirmary. She finally spoke at the door.
"Just... you seemed like you've had it rough too."
"...Pardon?"
"Ah, don't misunderstand. Not judging—just sincere."
"..."
Those words shattered Clara's misguided feelings and misconceptions about Lily. Pity was foreign to her. No one she'd met pitied Clara. Regardless of her backstory, she was the Holy Kingdom's noble saintess—envied by all. Even the Lumeun tribe, who knew her circumstances, saw her as "the saintess," not a person.
"Well, I'll head out then."
That might have been why. Leaning against the infirmary door, Clara stopped Lily from leaving.
"...Wait. Lily."
Staring into Lily's dark eyes, Clara thought: Maybe the one truly worthy of the saintess title and the Olive Wand isn't me—stained with ugly jealousy, twisted need for recognition, lost rage, and obsession—but her. The girl who helps even those who curse her.
With complex emotions, Clara stammered,
"I still have no intention of apologizing to you."
"I know. Never expected it anyway. If that's why you called me back..."
"...Until you prove yourself in the practical exam."
Yes. Wait until the practicals. Lady Olivia had said the true Olive Wand owner would prove themselves. If fate chose Lily over her, surely the girl would shine. No need to demean her as a slave until then. Hold judgment.
Clara gripped her right arm with her left, offering a fragile smile.
"So, do your best."
"..."
"I'll cheer for you sincerely. Because I want to apologize to you for real."
It was the first time the girl, who'd lived her life behind a mask, spoke from the heart.
Gazing at the setting sun, Ian crumpled the third reply from the north.
"Hah, those northern barbarians can object all they want—it changes nothing."
He was a minor duke of the Eastern Union Kingdom. Not so lowly as to beg four times from northerners.
"Just get the saintess on board, and it's done."
He'd already secured the Empire's crown prince. With the saintess and Holy Kingdom's power, eliminating that professor was easy. Then, without her barrier, manipulating the wand's owner would be child's play.
Plus, the saintess—brimming with inferiority—was an easy pawn.
"She'll never claim that wand."
A slight push on her Lily-fueled resentment, and she'd cook herself. Grill the saintess to sic the Holy Kingdom on Lily and the professor. He'd sit back and watch. Her obsession would make her self-destruct.
A fool like her was simple to control. With that certainty, Ian headed to the Holy Kingdom dorms—oblivious to Clara's changed mind or the reception awaiting him.