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In his line of sight, Eris, Rudeus, and Ghislaine had already entered the classroom and were turning around.
Allen lifted his foot, about to step inside.
A sigh.
From behind him—Hilda.
"Today..."
He stopped mid-step and turned around.
Looking back.
At this very moment.
In Allen's pupils.
Hilda's face finally came into clear focus.
Reflected in his eyes, her expression was faintly dazed.
"Today... I was happy."
"It's getting late, so let's end the lesson here."
"Goodnight, Allen."
"Goodnight, everyone."
Her voice was as light as the wind.
As if—
Afraid that speaking too loudly—
Would shatter the beautiful dream.
——
At the desk, candlelight flickered.
Outside the window, birds sang, their melodies sweet.
Allen had once asked Edna about the name of these birds that sang at night.
Edna had smiled and explained that they were a rare species native to the hills, prized in noble literature as symbols of love.
Birdsong carrying affection—
Their name was—
Song Thrushes.
"Please stop singing, little thrush. I'm not in the mood to listen today."
The firelight danced on Sylphiette's face.
The thrush ignored her plea.
On the desk before her lay an open diary.
Half an hour had passed since she'd unfolded it.
Not a single word written.
An hour had gone by since etiquette class ended.
Eris, after her initial excitement, had quickly worn herself out. Ever since skipping class with Allen, she'd only half-heartedly practiced fireball spells during afternoon magic lessons—every other moment was spent training with the sword.
Under such intense routines, her body was exhausted by dusk. Most days, she'd collapse asleep mid-lesson, sometimes even dozing off while Edna was still speaking.
Tonight, the dancing had briefly revived her energy, but it only made her crash harder afterward. By the time Hilda left, she was already on the verge of passing out—Ghislaine had to carry her back to bed.
Allen and Sylphiette, too, were drained, with little desire to talk. After washing up, they simply disbanded and retreated to their rooms.
Sylphiette's reddish-brown eyes stared blankly at the diary, her mind still lingering on Hilda's tears.
Hilda had offered no explanation, but Sylphiette felt something significant had happened.
What would make the lady cry?
Was it because, during Allen's dance, she saw her own child in him again?
But why then?
Her mood had been fine earlier. And over the past six months, even when mentioning her child, Hilda had only shown sorrowful eyes.
Eleven years.
She had long "grown accustomed."
And yet, when she left, her demeanor had seemed normal—but from half a year of living together, Sylphiette knew it was too abrupt. Her final words carried a...
Strange weight.
Tears in her eyes—
Yet claiming she was happy.
"Ugh..."
Sylphiette buried her face in her hands, exhaling in frustration.
Somehow, she couldn't shake the feeling that she'd messed up.
Because the facts were undeniable:
She had tried.
And the result?
—Hilda in tears.
—Allen listless.
—No progress in their relationship.
Had the plan failed?
Should she talk to Rudeus about it?
But where to even start? "I saw Lady Hilda crying?" And then what? What clue would that even give?
She slumped onto the desk, exhaustion washing over her, letting her mind go blank.
Before her eyes—
Words.
"So, I'm asking you—
You, who are always by Allen's side.
You, who can see his state anytime.
Please... help him."
From Roxy's letter.
Sylphiette blinked, exhaling softly.
Pushing herself up, she lightly patted her cheeks.
Get it together, Sylphiette!
Stay calm. Sort this out.
The situation was too murky.
Could she just outright tell Hilda that Allen was Allen? Then convince him to face her directly?
Sylphiette frowned.
Her instincts screamed that this was the worst option. Forget Allen's reaction—if Hilda learned this was her child, what then?
A reunion? Publicly declaring Allen as a Boreas? How would Sauros react? Their already strained relationship hung by a thread. Philip knew Allen's identity. Sauros knew. Yet they pretended otherwise.
That was the only reason Allen could stay in the mansion as a tutor.
For Sauros, this was already the furthest stretch of his tolerance—a silent, self-deceiving allowance. Push even slightly beyond, and it'd snap. Their six months of avoiding each other proved it.
Openly defying Boreas tradition? Unthinkable for the "Ironheart" Sauros.
The day their identities were laid bare would likely be the day Sauros erupted—and sent Allen back to the capital.
Back to the capital—
Sylphiette's eyes widened. Her lips parted in shock.
In that instant, Hilda's behavior tonight replayed in her mind at lightning speed.
The reason they couldn't acknowledge each other was because doing so would force Allen to leave!
Hilda was crying?
When was the last time?
The day Allen first arrived—when she mistook him for her child.
Why hadn't she cried these past six months?
Because she knew it was just an illusion.
But today? Why now?
Because—
The illusion wasn't an illusion anymore.
She'd seen her real child.
The etiquette lesson's details had confirmed Allen's identity!
But Boreas tradition forced her to stay rational.
That's why her reactions were so strange.
Realization struck.
Sylphiette shot up from her desk.
She scrambled to the door, tearing off her nightgown and hastily throwing on a dress—all grace from half a year of refinement gone.
Panicked, frantic.
She grabbed the doorknob, ready to bolt for Allen's room.
But as her fingers twisted it—
She froze.
Blinked.
Slowly opened the door.
Bare feet silent on the floor.
She stepped into the hallway, stopping before Allen's door.
For a moment, the corridor was so quiet she could hear her own heartbeat.
Beyond the door—
Stillness.
Her hand hovered.
Ready to knock.
Note: So far this story is published up to chapter 250 on my patreon, go check it out and remember that if we reach the goal of 30 power stones I will publish the next chapter.