The Elusive Houseguest and the Academy Chief's Quiet Warning
Philia stepped into the living room and settled onto the sofa, taking in the familiar faces around her.
Sena, who had just returned after putting Agnes to bed, now held a bowl of snacks tucked at her waist as she munched away. Aslan lounged nearby, equally casual in his own attire, and Abigail completed the picture, sprawled in the corner with her feet propped up, her eyes sweeping over Philia with open appraisal.
Philia’s surprise was genuine even at the doorway, but the sight of Abigail pushed her discomfort into full view.
Across from her, Rai lounged with a glass of strong liquor in hand, bottle in the other, offering a lazy grin.
“Everyone here already, huh? No need for formal introductions, but if you insist…”
He sauntered over to Aslan and extended his palm with theatrical flair.
“This is Asran the First Snack Eater, who ran away after a heated argument with Dad.”
Philia’s gaze locked onto Aslan. The name hit home; she had run from her own father for similar reasons. A spark of sympathy flared despite herself.
She knew Count Allion—Asran’s father—personally. A truly honorable man. Her own father, Count Infante, had savaged him in public more than once, proving his character beyond reproach. The only flaws were his stubborn streak and the constant political battles that came with running a noble household, yet he was known for his honesty and integrity across the continent.
Philia had never understood what drove Asran to defy such a man. She kept her lips sealed; Aslan must have suffered too.
Aslan simply raised his chin with unshakeable pride.
“It wasn’t running away. It was defiance. My own personal one.”
“Damn right. You rock, kid.”
Rai’s casual tone suggested he found the whole situation less burdensome than it appeared. Time had softened Philia’s judgment; she was already rationalizing it away.
Turning to Abigail, Rai continued.
“This is the second Snack Eater who somehow winds up at our place twice a week… or technically the first, but she’s a different flavor, so let’s call her 1.5, Abigail.”
Abigail offered no rebuttal. She simply stared at Philia with narrowed, irritated eyes.
“This is the third Snack Eater who’s been forced to live under our roof. Snack Eater four is still asleep right now.”
“Hello. Please take care of me.”
Even as she spoke, Philia felt awkward; Agnes’s soft, timid manner made her own reply feel stiff.
“And you, Philia? You’re staying too?”
“… … Y-yes…”
The moment Philia finished introducing herself, she realized her carefully rehearsed lines had vanished. She answered with careful caution.
“This is Philia the Fifth Snack Eater. Everyone, clap—”
Rai clapped enthusiastically. Agnes, the only one inside the private residence, offered a quiet round of applause in response. The rest of them joined anyway; they had all invaded Philia’s personal space.
“If Zeroa shows up too, we’ll have the whole class.”
“Zeroa’s coming?”
“Nope.”
Rai flashed a bright, almost cheerful smile.
“If he does, I’ll kill him. So he won’t come.”
“…”
That sunny smile paired with an unmistakable threat of violence left Philia bowing her head, cheeks flushing. Agnes trembled visibly. Aslan and Abigail straightened their postures and looked away.
Soon everyone was staring quietly at the floor. The living room fell into heavy silence.
Rai lifted the bottle and drank deeply, then settled beside Philia, who immediately turned her chair away.
“So, what’s going on?”
Philia hesitated. Revealing family secrets to so many ears felt dangerous. She bit her lip in worry, then spoke honestly to the patient man waiting beside her.
She started with the marriage proposal, then the harsh words her father had hurled at Allion, recounting every detail.
The reactions varied.
Agnes watched Philia with sad eyes. Aslan muttered, “That bastard.”
“Infante’s a bastard, yeah, but your dad’s the one I’m cursing.”
Abigail stared in shock at the harsh words, yet Aslan showed no intention of softening them.
“In this day and age, what’s with the family bloodline nonsense? If the guy won’t let her marry, why force it? Is she just his toy?”
The gathered group fell silent, staring at Aslan in surprise. He blinked innocently.
“Huh? What’d I say wrong?”
“Nothing. You said it perfectly.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you spoke well.”
Rai slid the bottle over to the frowning Aslan, who accepted it with a suspicious expression.
While Asran drank, Abigail turned to Philia.
“So you ran away without doing anything? You thought you’d be some fairy-tale princess saved by the prince?”
“I didn’t run away because—”
“Then what did you do? Besides boasting about your ‘amazing’ skills?”
Philia fell silent. Nothing had been resolved. In the end, she had simply left because their opinions clashed.
“Why do you talk like that? You expressed your own opinion inside the family.”
“So? What did you accomplish?”
Aslan, who had been ready to defend Philia, went quiet.
“Fine. Your room is mine now.”
“Eh?”
Philia’s eyes widened.
“Why? You don’t like it? The Headmistress arranged a nice bed for you.”
“Ah… um… but Instructor, I’m with—”
“What nonsense? The innermost room on the second floor. Go sleep.”
Philia’s mouth twitched as impure thoughts raced through her mind. Rai turned to Aslan.
“Bring a pillow from the room.”
“A pillow? I sleep on the bed.”
“Exactly. You’ll be on the sofa, so I need one.”
Perfect logic. Aslan stared blankly, then protested, but he was no match for the house owner. He was ultimately sent to the room he now shared with Philia.
Late to the scene, Philia tried to claim the sofa, but Asran shook his head.
“There’s been so much. Rest well.”
Compassionate words from Asran should have moved her, yet his uncharacteristically gentle demeanor felt strangely out of place. Philia felt only awkwardness.
In Rai’s room, Philia wandered the sparse space. No signs of life suggested anyone had ever slept here.
She cautiously sat on the bed.
Room assigned. Shared sleeping quarters with Asran.
The door opened. Philia shot upright as if caught in the act, meeting Rai’s eyes.
“Make yourself comfortable. Your clothes are in the wardrobe. Change.”
“Um… I don’t have—”
She had only brought the clothes on her back and her sword.
Rai strode over and pulled out a fresh set.
“These are mine. Wear them to bed. If they don’t suit you, pick something else.”
“Thank you…”
Philia felt a faint blush; wearing another man’s clothes felt strange, but she nodded.
Rai handed her the garments and left before she could say more.
Just as he closed the door, he added,
“It’ll turn out fine. Don’t worry.”
“Thank you.”
Philia stared at the clothes in her hands, then dropped onto the bed.
She had rebelled against the marriage talk and run impulsively. Now she had nowhere to go and no idea how to live at the academy. The loneliness of being thrust into society weighed on her, but her strong will prevented her from sinking into despair.
She slapped both cheeks hard enough to echo, then changed.
The shirt was slightly loose but clean and comfortable; no risk of slipping down.
Philia sat still, then slowly lifted the hem and brought it close to her nose. It carried the faint scent of sunlight and laundry.
She found herself addicted, inhaling again and again. A strange, shameful urge made her jolt upright, cheeks burning.
She buried her face in the pillow and blanket, struggling silently as her nose betrayed her once more.
“What are you doing?”
Rai, upstairs, looked at the noisy ceiling and muttered to himself before heading back into the room.
He stepped into the guest room—now Asran’s territory—and set the bottle down on the nightstand. He lay back, eyes closed.
He had heard Philia’s situation. He could already picture how things would unfold.
When he had been in Keilen Kingdom, central nobles often reacted with fury to political entanglements.
Especially the clever ones who knew how to strike where it would hurt most.
Having clashed with politicians many times, Rai saw Infante’s strategy clearly: surround the target and attack from every angle.
Philia had nowhere else to turn except the academy. That was the next target.
Without the academy, she would be nothing more than a skilled swordswoman with no power base.
The next morning, dawn.
Early risers trudged across the academy grounds while Bright sat carving wood with a hobbyist’s focus.
The wood still carried morning dew, yet his knife sliced through it effortlessly. He admired the grain, then glanced up at Rai approaching.
“Good morning, Vice Principal.”
“Good morning, Instructor Rai.”
The greeting was warm, but Bright’s expression remained serious.
Normally Rai would be at Zeroa’s training or at home. The sudden appearance suggested something important.
“I heard about a girl who ran away after clashing with her father. Care to hear the details?”
Rai’s words matched Bright’s expectations perfectly. He set the carving knife aside and listened intently.
***
Despite the major incident yesterday, Philia had continued her normal academy life until she heard her father had come to the academy. She sprinted toward the Headmistress’s office in a panic.
She had expected her father to act, but not this quickly.
A private meeting with the Headmistress was the last thing she wanted.
The academy planned to expel her.
She had burst out during riding practice and ran with all her might toward the building housing the Headmistress’s office.
“You’re here. Sit.”
Sweat-drenched and panting, Philia spotted Rai relaxed on the terrace.
“I’m sorry. I came as soon as I heard.”
“Don’t worry about your father. I’ll handle it.”
Philia stared in surprise, then followed Rai’s silent gesture to sit beside him.
“What exactly—”
“Don’t worry. There are plenty of people here to help. It’ll be fine.”
Rai offered her a glass of juice with a reassuring smile.
***
In the Headmistress’s office that same moment.
“You mean you can’t grant my request?!”
Infante shouted, face flushed with rage.
The vast office echoed with his thunderous voice, yet Celenas remained unfazed, smiling serenely.
“As you know, only His Imperial Majesty can issue direct orders within Regandia. Oh my, Count Serios, are you higher in rank than the Emperor?”
Infante fell silent.
Any reply would weaken him when the Emperor was mentioned.
When Infante had first arrived, he had planned to force Philia’s expulsion.
Celenas had firmly refused, stating that expulsion required the student’s own consent.
She had even hinted she could arrange it if Philia agreed. Infante had left furious yet contained, because Bright stood guard behind Celenas.
Bright had entered the academy secretly, but his reputation and authority remained intact.
Celenas, a rising star who had become Headmistress at a young age, lacked deep political connections. Bright, however, had served the military for over fifty years and had even held private audiences with the Emperor.
Should he intervene, the Imperial Court Magician Clyde Eliza would become involved.
If the eccentric Clyde caused a scene, it would no longer be a simple family dispute. The madness would reach the Emperor’s ears. Infante could not imagine the humiliation.
He had threatened to create problems unless his demand was met. Celenas’s calm “I don’t know what you’re talking about” had finally pushed him to anger.
“Count Serios. The matter is already decided. The Headmistress is busy. If you have more to say, come now.”
Infante’s face twisted.
“The Second Prince’s views on the academy will be most interesting.”
“Surprising, isn’t it? The Second Prince has no time to meddle in others’ family affairs.”
Infante’s clenched fist trembled.
“If the Second Prince takes an interest in the academy, it would be good. The donation quota for the year is already tight.”
Celenas smiled sweetly, then rose silently and left. The chair he had gripped slid loudly across the floor and toppled.
Bright watched the departing Infante and offered Celenas a grateful bow.
“Thank you, Headmistress.”
“Not at all. The academy always supports the students. Please reassure Philia.”
“I will. Instructor Rai is already handling it.”
Bright nodded, and Celenas smiled warmly.