Even Principles Need Exceptions
Chirp, chirp, chirp—
Birdsong stirred her awake, and morning had already arrived.
"Ahh… I slept well."
Wiping the corner of her mouth, Elise sat up in a daze—then suddenly realized something.
I slept well…?
Of course, getting a proper night's rest was a good thing. But for her, it meant something a little different.
The student council was always a whirlwind. Accidents flared up around the alchemy club practically every other day, and she had to receive the reports and clean up the mess. Complaints about the quality of the cafeteria food poured in several times a day. And recently, there had even been a sparring match between a teacher and a student, leaving her to handle the aftermath.
Buried under work, buried under people. After days like that, she would collapse onto her bed like a discarded rag, and sleep would claim her without warning. Even then, to keep her title as an honor student, she would wake before dawn to plow through the assignments she'd fallen behind on. That had been her life until yesterday—shallow sleep, lingering fatigue that gnawed at her body, and endless, thankless effort under the weight of her family's expectations.
But… today is different.
She had opened her eyes feeling good, without a single alarm. No heavy eyelids. No stiff shoulders. She felt so refreshed, so light, that she could have leapt out of bed and run.
Had she felt like this recently? She thought hard, but nothing came to mind. In all her years at this school, mornings this pleasant could be counted on one hand.
As she sat there, quietly marveling at the unfamiliar sensation, a strange sound reached her ears.
"Mmm… just a little longer…"
Something was beside her on the bed. Something warm and fluffy—a little ball of fur.
"Come to think of it… this isn't my dorm room."
Yesterday's memories came rushing back all at once. The tailing. The cookies. The deep, deep sleep. Recalling that absurd chain of events, her face flushed hot in an instant.
"Ugh… what on earth was I thinking?"
After a brief flashback, Elise berated herself. She couldn't even understand her own thoroughly irrational behavior. She hadn't achieved a single one of her original goals—and instead had ended up deeply indebted to the very underclassman she'd marked as a person of interest.
And yet, she didn't feel entirely bad about it. It was as if she had finally been rewarded for all those grueling days. The reason, of course, was painfully obvious.
Carmilla de Valin… I never thought I'd end up owing you.
From the moment they first met, Elise had written her off as a problem student. Rule-breaking. Rumors of her mingling with Empire-side figures. Elise had thought of her as someone who needed proper guidance before she went astray.
…Did I really not know it would turn out like this?
Rarely sharpened by a night of quality sleep, Elise's coolheaded reason delivered a precise self-diagnosis. Looking back now, it had been a different kind of interest entirely. She had piled on excuses, but in the end she had simply been drawn to that special skill of hers.
Carmilla de Valin is a cook.
At this point, she had no choice but to admit it. From the very first meeting, the fact that a new student knew how to cook had gotten under her skin. Most Academy students were nobles who never prepared their own meals, so the only people on campus who could cook were the cafeteria staff—and even they were clergy dispatched by the ascetic Goddess Religion, so flavor was hardly a priority in the food they served. In that environment, Carmilla's existence was inevitably an irregularity.
So all those justifications I piled on were just so I could approach her…
Until now, she had never been honest with her own heart. Without draping her actions in some noble pretext, she simply could not forgive herself for moving out of personal desire. That was why yesterday's lapse had been so thoroughly unlike her.
Maybe I was just that exhausted.
The closer a person is driven to their limit, the closer they draw to instinct. Just yesterday, knowing full well she shouldn't, she had reached out and accepted Carmilla's kindness.
I suppose I ought to reflect on that.
With that thought, Elise shook her head vigorously, as if to fling off the previous day's mistakes.
Still… it wasn't all that bad.
If there was a silver lining, it was that rumors about Carmilla had yet to spread far. Given the student council's nature as a hub for campus information, any conspicuous gossip was usually snagged quickly. Her name had come up a few times there—but Elise had never heard anything about her opening a restaurant. Whether that was deliberate or simply still undiscovered, either way, the situation was favorable.
Elise had lived through the so-called Cookie War. If the truth about Carmilla got out across campus, unprecedented chaos would surely follow. But on the other hand, the thought of her private little gem of a restaurant becoming public knowledge left her feeling oddly shortchanged. For now, that was enough.
Having decided as much, Elise turned to face the reality before her.
"…First things first. I should head back."
She carefully slipped out of bed and made her way outside. Descending the stairs, she looked out over a landscape bathed in morning sunlight. It was a morning of unmatched beauty.
Leaving yesterday's dreamlike events behind, Elise was about to go—when a voice she was already growing a little used to called out.
"Senior, wait a moment!"
"…Carmilla. I owe you for yesterday."
"Please take this with you."
As she spoke, Carmilla held out a small paper bag. With a puzzled look, Elise accepted it and opened it—and found several of the cookies she had eaten the day before.
"If you ever have the time, you are most welcome to come visit again."
At those words, Elise found herself momentarily speechless. By the book, she ought to be punishing Carmilla even now.
Come visit?
Carmilla de Valin. Her charges were as follows: illegal cooking on campus grounds, trespassing in the Old School Building, bribery of a student council officer, and smuggling outside food onto school premises. Offenses that had already sown chaos through the Academy—more than enough to warrant an immediate suspension. No matter how kind the person, Elise was in a position that required her to uphold the rules. And until now, she had never once made an exception in their enforcement.
And yet…
She simply couldn't do it.
How am I supposed to punish someone who offers kindness this pure?
The hand holding the gift trembled. In the name of House Rosenberg, this kind of soft compromise was unthinkable. And still, her heart refused it.
Why should I punish this harmless girl?
Someone who had given her a place to sleep through the night, fed her until she was full, and now invited her back with a sincere smile—was she truly supposed to treat this person as a target for punishment?
If that's what the rules demand, then I…
After a long internal struggle, Elise finally let out a small sigh.
"…All right. I'll stop by from time to time."
"Yes! You are welcome anytime!"
It was a first for her. The first time she had ever broken a set rule. And yet, she felt strangely unburdened.
"Father always said that rules were made to protect people."
Following principles to the letter was easy. You didn't have to think. You simply acted as written and offloaded the responsibility onto whoever made the rules. So beginning to question why those principles existed was necessary—and at the same time, dangerous. The moment you crossed that fixed line, you entered the realm of personal responsibility. And so, making an exception to a principle was, by its nature, an act that demanded accountability.
"Even so, I intend to make an exception."
Elise began walking out, perfectly composed. Because she believed that rules were made for people.
Warm morning sunlight poured into the chapel.
"…May the Goddess watch over us this day as well, that it may be one of faithful devotion."
Softly murmuring the words, Angelica von Blanchett finished her prayer. As a devout follower of the Goddess Religion, she had kept this morning ritual every single day—but today felt distinctly different.
"Have you finished praying, Angelica?"
At the gentle voice from behind, she turned to find a familiar face.
"Ah, Professor."
Standing at the chapel entrance was Lucian von Ardel, professor of healing magic. Wearing his usual soft smile, he settled naturally into the seat beside her and folded his hands.
"Your expression has grown brighter lately."
"Yes. School life has been rather enjoyable of late."
"Oh? In what way, if I may ask?"
Angelica paused to think, then continued with a little ah of realization.
"There have been quite a few newcomers recently… hehe. One of them is especially interesting."
"And who might that be?"
"Her name is Carmilla de Valin. Her way of speaking is a little unusual, but she's an extraordinarily kind person."
"I see. And what makes you think so, Miss Angelica?"
"She's from the Kingdom, just like me, and yet she gets along wonderfully with people from the Empire as well."
As she said it, Angelica looked faintly embarrassed.
"As a servant of the Goddess, I believe I ought to treat everyone equally… but it seems that spirit is still lacking in me. That's why she feels so bright to me."
"You needn't blame yourself so."
Lucian offered a benevolent smile and comforted her in that characteristically gentle tone of his. He already knew about her past, after all.
"I'm simply grateful that you understand."
"Still, hearing about that student has piqued my interest a little."
As he spoke, Lucian slowly turned his body.
"From what I hear, this Carmilla de Valin seems to have quite the wide circle of acquaintances."
Only then did Angelica tilt her head. As he turned, she caught sight of the ring on his hand. It was one she had never seen before—a platinum band with a soft blue mana glow. Nothing of great importance, really; the mild observation that it was rather unusual simply lingered on her tongue.
"Do you know anything more about her?"
"Yes—she collapsed in the sparring grounds not long ago…"
That fleeting impression did not last. Buried in ordinary conversation, it drifted away somewhere unimportant. For now, she was simply happy to chat with the teacher she so deeply respected.