The Price Is Your Everything - Chapter 38

“Winter break is too short. You must visit in the summer as well. We can take a boat out on the lake together. Or perhaps we should all go to the seaside for a vacation.”

The Countess of MacKinnon chimed in cheerfully, and Nerys smiled.

“I think I will visit my mother in the summer. But I sincerely appreciate your kind invitation, my lord, my lady.”

“How mature of you.”

The Countess leaned down and placed a warm kiss on Nerys’ forehead.

It had been a long time since she had received such an affectionate gesture from an adult woman—so long that she could barely recall it. Perhaps in her previous life, during the time when she had truly been a child.

Of course, when she had returned to being twelve, she had clung to her mother, but soon after, she had left for the academy.

As she felt the warmth of those soft lips lingering on her forehead, Nerys was left feeling neither like crying nor smiling. All she could do was swiftly control her expression, fearing that any emotion might slip through.

“Get on the carriage now, or you’ll be late for school.”

The Count, his face clearly reluctant to let his daughter go, urged them on. It was out of his desire to spend even a single extra day with her that he had delayed their departure until the last possible moment before the semester began.

The hearts of parents sending their children away and children leaving home were never quite the same. Diane, brimming with excitement, climbed into the carriage without hesitation. Joyce rushed over to take her hand, then immediately assisted Nerys as she boarded.

“Take care, my dear.”

“Stop calling me that!”

Diane snapped reflexively, but her eyes were full of affection.

Nerys sank into the plush seat of the carriage—a much larger and more comfortable one than the one she had arrived in. The Count and Countess had arranged for it to ensure a comfortable journey for the two girls.

“Goodbye! Father, Mother, see you next break! Joyce, take care! Peony! John! Stop crying!”

Even after the carriage doors closed, Diane continued shouting farewells to the household.

A dozen knights from the MacKinnon household formed an escort around them, and the coachman slowly set the carriage in motion. After everything that had happened, the Count and Countess were unwilling to take any chances and had arranged for special guards to accompany them all the way to school.

Through the carriage window, Nerys watched as the mansion receded into the distance.

On the terrace, she caught a glimpse of Muriel.

“Muriel is entering the temple?”

Diane, who had only just sat properly now that they were out of earshot from the mansion’s staff, nodded at Nerys’ question.

“Yeah. She claims she didn’t know anything, but it wouldn’t be right for my parents to keep her here. And the rest of our relatives dislike her even more.”

With actual criminals among their family members, people had nearly forgotten about Muriel, whose only real offense had been her sharp tongue. Diane snorted.

“Do you really think she knew nothing? But I suppose pressing her too hard would’ve been a bit much.”

“Exactly. Either way, Muriel isn’t worth paying attention to.”

Nerys agreed, and she meant it.

Muriel had even less self-control than Heather, let alone Diane. When Nerys had been the crown princess, she had never once heard people speak of the MacKinnon Earl’s daughter as someone of significance.

If their scheme had succeeded, her family had likely either married her off to someone insignificant or sent her away, fearing she might leak their secrets.

Once inside the temple, Muriel would have little reason to leave unless a suitor emerged. But that also meant she would no longer be entangled in any dangerous plots.

Given the character of the Count and Countess, they would likely send an appropriate donation to the temple on her behalf. That was far more than Muriel—who had tormented Diane for years—deserved.

If Muriel had truly been aware of the full scope of her father and brother’s plans, she would not have acted so brazenly, as if the MacKinnon estate already belonged to her. Most likely, she had only assumed that Diane and her family would be forced out.

As the carriage rattled along, Diane’s eyes suddenly sparkled.

“Even after we get to school, do you want to sleep over in our dorm sometimes?”

“I’ll pass. You’re old enough to sleep alone.”

Nerys had endured Diane’s tossing, turning, and occasional kicks during their sleepovers long enough. She refused outright, and her rare show of firmness made Diane burst into laughter.

The girls’ laughter echoed through the carriage as it rolled down the long road.

—

With the brief winter break over, Noble Academy was once again bustling with its usual routines.

For older students, winter break held little significance—many stayed in the dormitories, spending their last free days together. But most younger students had gone home and returned with new possessions to show off.

Many first-year students had learned an important lesson in the previous semester: they were not, in fact, the wealthiest or most sophisticated children in the world.

Some of these humbled students had confided in their parents or guardians over the break, tears in their eyes. Wealthy families, having anticipated such concerns, had responded with laughter—and expensive gifts.

“Oh my, Aidalia. I’ve never seen that pearl necklace before.”

“My grandmother gave it to me. She plans to add a pearl for each of my birthdays. By the time I’m an adult, it will be truly stunning.”

Among noble children, jewelry often served as their ‘toys.’ Necklaces, rings, gem-encrusted swords, and inlaid pens were their prized possessions.

The previous Marchioness of Kendall had given Aidalia a rare string of pearls. On the first day of the new term, she subtly allowed it to peek out from beneath her collar, replying modestly to the remark.

Alecto, who had pointed it out, smirked when Aidalia made no mention of his ruby ring. However, Aidalia Kendall was not someone Alecto Isalani could mock so easily.

So what if she was a little pretentious? Aidalia was at least someone one wouldn’t be embarrassed to be seen with.

The academy corridors, adorned with delicate high vaults and slender stone pillars, were bitterly cold in the dead of winter—enough to turn one’s nose red. The two students, having run into each other, walked together, chattering about their winter break.

“My family went to Huberon during the break.”

“Huberon? That means you must have had a hot spring bath. Lucky you. My family was too busy hosting guests for the festival. I tried begging them to go on a trip, but they said it was a family tradition, so there was nothing I could do.”

When Alecto mentioned the famous resort city, Aidalia’s eyes sparkled, and she made an expression of feigned regret.

She acted as if she were envious, but in aristocratic society, it was essentially a way of boasting about her own prestigious and well-connected family. Alecto had to restrain himself once again from making a snide remark.

Wrapped in a pink-tinged ivory coat, Aidalia exhaled small puffs of white breath. Alecto, burying his cheeks in a yellow-dyed rabbit fur scarf to ward off the cold, suddenly noticed a familiar figure ahead.

“Hey, isn’t that ‘Nona’?”

Rhiannon had once reserved that nickname only for those she was close to, granting it as if it were a special privilege.

Many students still remembered how she used to proudly declare that only her family was allowed to call her that. But ever since she had become the target of ridicule at school, the nickname had turned into a slur.

The black-haired girl walking ahead flinched, shoulders hunched. Confirming his guess, Alecto smirked and called out.

“Hey, Nona! Heading to class?”

Rhiannon did not turn around. She only lowered her head even further. Alecto’s voice took on a biting chill.

“Hey! Nona! Are you ignoring me? I know you can hear me.”

The echoes bouncing off the stone walls made Aidalia frown, but she did not stop Alecto.

If it had been someone else, I would have intervened, she hastily reassured herself.

Of course, she would have. Aidalia knew she was a kind person—someone who wouldn’t even hurt a fly.

But Rhiannon had crossed the line.

Alecto’s actions might have been crude and unbefitting of nobility, but it wasn’t as if Aidalia could change the fact that everyone disliked Rhiannon.

What had possessed her to act so foolish? She, a mere count’s granddaughter, had dared to send a love letter to Nellusion Elandria.

There were other students in the corridor. Most first-years were heading to their foundational history class, so the hallway was naturally crowded.

Yet no one stopped Alecto.

On the contrary, some found his antics amusing.

“Maybe she’s deaf. Alecto, go slap her!”

“Throw your book at her!”

The history textbook, filled with detailed records, was thick and heavy. It wouldn’t reach Rhiannon from where Alecto stood, but the mere suggestion made her flinch and quicken her pace.

Alecto grinned, satisfied.

“Hey! Nona! You’re ignoring someone when they’re calling you?”

Had anyone else spoken so coarsely, it might have been frowned upon. But Alecto, known as one of the more entertaining students in their year, could get away with it.

In fact, his exaggerated posturing made some of the boys double over with laughter.

“Come on, stop right there! I won’t hit you! Do you think I’d actually hit someone?”

Of course not. No one here would stoop that low—unlike her.

Snickers and comments flew around, filling the corridor with a chorus of petty malice.

At last, Rhiannon stopped in her tracks.

Alecto, full of himself, strode over.

“I asked if you were heading to class. Why are you making this difficult by ignoring me?”

By the time he finished speaking, only about three steps remained between them.

Rhiannon hesitated before lifting her head. Her face, well-rested from the winter break, looked healthier than it had during the term.

“…If you can see it, why ask?”

“What? ‘Why ask’? Are you out of your mind?”

Alecto burst into laughter, as if she had just said something utterly ridiculous.

The moment school started, there was already such an entertaining spectacle—it was no wonder that students began gathering around, eager to watch.

Aidalia finally caught up to them, glancing at Rhiannon with an expression of pure disdain.

Alecto’s question seemed perfectly reasonable to their audience.

How dare Rhiannon Berta—a mere Nona—think she had the right to retort to someone of their normal social standing? She should have been grateful just to be spoken to.

“Hey, hey, hey.”

Alecto’s fingers tangled into Rhiannon’s black hair, tugging at it teasingly. His touch wasn’t painful, but it was humiliating enough to make her eyes burn with fury.

“You said you wouldn’t hit me!”

“I said I wouldn’t hit a person.”

Laughter erupted, louder this time.

Aidalia, ever cautious, glanced around to check if any teachers were approaching.

That was when she noticed a long shadow stretching around the corridor’s corner.

Megara noticed it, too.

She hadn’t been openly spectating, but she chose this precise moment to speak in a calm, gentle voice.

“Everyone, class is about to start.”

“Ugh, Meg, you always spoil the fun.”

Alecto grumbled but did not defy Megara’s implicit command to disperse.

The gathered students scattered faster than they had assembled, blending into their usual conversations as they made their way to class.

As they did, the adult who had rounded the corner raised an eyebrow at the scene.

The man, a middle-aged noble with hair so fair it was nearly brown, surveyed the group of students carefully. When Alecto happened to pass by him, he caught her by the arm and asked,

“What year are you?”

“Us? We’re first-years.”

The way he had immediately used informal speech, combined with his attire, made it clear he was of noble status. Alecto, sensing that, responded politely. The man frowned.

“Do you know where Alecto Isalani is?”

“Huh? That’s me.”

The students, startled that a stranger had asked for Alecto by name, exchanged puzzled glances.

Aidalia, wary of unfamiliar people, quietly slipped away.

Alecto, however, stared at the man’s nose—and suddenly realized.

His nose looked exactly like Angharad’s.

“Good. I have something to discuss regarding what you did to my daughter. And if anyone knows the whereabouts of Nerys Truydd, tell them to report to Madam Hoffman.”