The Price Is Your Everything - Chapter 7: Are You Taking This Class Too?

Any other freshman might have been startled, but Nerys, who had already experienced life and death, found it merely tiresome. There was no sense of bloodlust, after all.

She looked up at Cledwyn with her expressionless violet eyes. After a moment, interest flickered in his gaze.

“Ja’an, are you? An illegitimate child of the Elandria family?” (T/N: Ja’an are someone who possess violet eyes)

A duke like Cledwyn Maindulante would indeed know about the Elandria family’s Ja’an. Nerys gave a cold smile.

“Are you saying I’m siblings with Nellusion?”

“Are you denying it?”

She had dealt with such misunderstandings before, particularly with Ren, and she wasn’t keen on going through them again.

She had no desire to be thought of as Nellusion’s sister ever again.

“Absolutely not.”

Apparently, he wasn’t aware that even a disowned daughter of a cadet branch had borne Ja’an’s child. To be fair, the Elandria family itself had only recently discovered her existence.

Realizing the futility of the argument, Nerys fixed her gaze on Cledwyn and said in a commanding tone,

“Put that away, Cledwyn Maindulante.”

Students were strictly prohibited from attacking one another. Since students from rival noble families often ended up in the same class, such a rule was essential to prevent parents from refusing to send their children to the academy.

Yet here he was, drawing a sword just to ask her name. While Nerys wasn’t shaken, other freshmen would likely have been traumatized by the experience.

The next moment, the blade returned to the scabbard at Cledwyn’s waist. Nerys slowly stood up.

Standing straight before the boy several years her senior, she smoothed her skirt with precise movements. Cledwyn smiled as he watched her—another faint, mocking smile that played at the corners of his lips.

“So, you knew who I was after all. Now, tell me your name. That’s only fair.”

“No, it’s not. I know your name because I’m competent, so if you want mine, you’ll have to figure it out yourself.”

Cledwyn’s eyes narrowed slightly at her provocative response. After a moment of thought, he gestured for her to leave.

“Go.”

“Why? Can’t figure it out?”

“The next time we meet, I’ll call you by your name.”

His voice carried an inexplicable mix of confidence and certainty. Nerys walked away without haste.

It had been a pointless provocation—she knew that.

Antagonizing someone in power was far from wise, yet she couldn’t help feeling unsettled when she met his gaze, as if she were a child again.

That cold face, framed against the brilliant summer sky, lingered in her mind far longer than she expected.

—

On the vast campus of the Kartak Institute, near the stone wall dividing the Aine and Kartak Institutes, stood the historic Caesar Hall, a building that hinted at the academy’s humble beginnings.

Built in the modest style of Princess Katerina’s era, the structure had undergone multiple renovations and expansions over the years but still retained its historical significance.

Nerys paid no attention to the relics, tapestries, or graduation speeches displayed in the lobby as she climbed to the second floor—known as the C-level in academy parlance.

Among the tall male students filling the hallway, Nerys, small and slender, stood out.

“Is there a first-year basic magic class here? I don’t recall hearing about that.”

“Hey, kid, this is the Kartak Institute. Are you lost? Need help finding your way?”

Voices from the bewildered upperclassmen swirled around her, but Nerys ignored them.

“What family is she from?”

The boys exchanged glances, trying to deduce her background.

Even before formally debuting in society, children from prestigious families usually interacted with one another from an early age. Yet none of them had seen this golden-haired girl before.

It was strange. Platinum blonde hair, rare Ja’an features, and a poised gait that radiated confidence—despite her plain attire, she clearly belonged to a distinguished lineage. Surely, someone here must be related to her.

“Hey.”

A voice called out, and someone appeared to recognize her.

The surrounding boys stiffened at the sight of his unusual pink hair. Ren Fayel, a theology student and the younger brother of the previous pope, had once been highly popular but was now a fallen star.

‘Theology?’ ‘Is she connected to Ren?’ Rapid calculations and guesses flashed through the upperclassmen’s minds.

But Ren, unaffected by their scrutiny, approached Nerys and spoke to her.

“What are you doing here?”

Nerys turned at the sound of his voice. Her calm, subdued eyes made him raise an eyebrow.

“Lost again?”

Nerys, surprised to encounter Ren here, looked mildly annoyed.

“I wasn’t lost.”

“You said you were last time.”

“I didn’t say that. I said I stumbled upon the place by chance.”

“Same thing.”

“It’s completely different. Being lost means wandering without reaching your destination. That was a shortcut to my destination.”

Ren looked incredulous.

“So, is this another shortcut?”

“I’m here for class. Verlaine Language 3.”

“Already?”

Since Verlaine was an optional foreign language, few students enrolled in it, and the class was a mix of students from various grades and majors.

Ren, having grown up in the papal states and interacted with diplomats from many countries, had an interest in uncommon languages. But it was unusual for a freshman to take such a course.

“What class are you here for?” Nerys asked.

“Verlaine Language 3.”

Nerys raised an eyebrow, unsure whether Ren was joking or serious.

But Ren seemed genuinely pleased. He would have laughed if he were teasing her, so it must have been true.

No one had ever been glad to share a class with her before. Most people simply grumbled about their misfortune.

Feeling oddly unsettled, Nerys walked off briskly.

Ren casually walked beside her and asked,

“You took the freshman exams, right? How were your results?”

“They were as good as they could be,” Nerys replied.

“Seems like you did pretty well. I guess that’s why you’re taking an elective foreign language class.”

“Why are you taking Verlaine, senior? It’s not a common choice for theology students.”

“Is there anything you ‘don’t’ know?”

Ren blinked his round eyes at her, but Nerys didn’t respond.

As they approached the classroom for C-Level Room 4, where the lesson would be held, Ren grumbled at her silence.

“My uncle lives in Verlaine. I already know a little, so I figured I’d learn it properly. It’s useful if I want to visit him or hang out there.”

In her previous life, Nerys knew exactly who Ren’s uncle was. The man had once been an ally of Pope Omnitus III, but when the Pope’s corruption was exposed, the uncle had been scapegoated and killed to cover up the scandal.

Not that it was undeserved. The man had been a villain, and Nerys herself had been the one to expose the incident while aligning Omnitus III with the Elandria family. She remembered clearly what kind of person Ren’s uncle was.

In any case, that man wasn’t someone who would ever help Ren. If anything, Ren should consider himself lucky not to be immediately disposed of as the last surviving member of the Fayel family. The fact that Ren relied on such a person only made Nerys inwardly sigh.

“Are you close to your uncle?” she asked.

“Not really.”

“That checks out.”

“Are you trying to pick a fight?”

Ren’s pretty face twisted into a scowl.

Nerys looked sharply at him, and Ren, who was about to lash out, instinctively closed his mouth. He flinched, embarrassed by the fact that a mere glance from a child had shaken him.

“If your uncle cared about you, you wouldn’t be in this situation. I don’t know much about what happened when your brother, Tacitus VI, passed into the arms of the gods, but I do know there must have been a fair amount of chaos. If he’d been someone who truly cared about you, he would’ve sent you to safety long ago.”

Ren’s face turned pale as he processed her words.

She was right. If his uncle had even a shred of concern for him, or even just a sense of propriety, he would have done far more to protect Ren.

The truth was painfully clear: his uncle had left him to fend for himself, likely to curry favor with Omnitus III. Ren knew he wouldn’t be welcomed in Verlaine, but as a lonely and struggling youth, he couldn’t help hoping he had somewhere to turn.

Lost in thought, Ren fell silent, and Nerys walked into the classroom without hesitation.

Inside, there were about seven or eight students already present. At first glance, they all seemed to be upperclassmen, save for one student around Nerys’s age.

Several upperclassmen were chatting amiably with Megara, who blended in like the youngest daughter doted on by her family.

With her effortless charm, unfiltered smile, and the achievement of taking a higher-level class at her young age, she had already left a favorable impression on her classmates.

Megara turned to Nerys as she entered and gave her a radiant, angelic smile.

“Nerys, are you taking this class too? I had no idea.”

‘As if,’ Nerys thought, knowing full well that Megara wouldn’t have the skills to be in this class.

At this time, other freshmen should be attending their required foreign language classes—either Common Lundish or Diamish, the two most widely spoken languages on the continent after Imperial.

Nerys had scored perfect marks in both required foreign language exams and even included a letter in Verlaine on her test paper, requesting to join the advanced class and offering to take additional exams if necessary. Thus, she was the only freshman admitted to the advanced class.

Megara, on the other hand, had likely used her family’s influence to force her way into this class, desperate to prove she wasn’t inferior to Nerys.

“Meggy, is she a friend of yours?”

The strained atmosphere between the two drew a question from an upperclassman. Nerys recognized him as a member of the Ennyn family, distant relatives of the Lykeandros marquessate. She also recalled that, in her previous life, he had been a lifelong admirer of Megara.

“We’re in the same year,” Megara replied sweetly. “Nerys is so smart that everyone already knows her name.”

Her tone while saying “smart” made her true intent clear to everyone in the room: Nerys was overly arrogant and too full of herself.

As the mood in the classroom turned sour, Ren raised an eyebrow, but Nerys’s expression remained unchanged. She responded gently to Megara,

“Thank you for saying that, Megara. I was worried about being the only freshman in this class, but having you here is reassuring. Isn’t this the time for required foreign language classes, though?”

Megara’s expression became slightly frosty.

“Madam Hoffman said I didn’t need to take those classes.”

Nerys could almost hear the unspoken “unlike you.”

It was a futile provocation. Nerys smiled genuinely.

You could force your way into a higher-level class, but Noble Academy’s courses weren’t so forgiving. Just as there were systems to ensure advanced students weren’t held back, there were also systems to reassign students who couldn’t keep up to lower-level classes.

“Really? I’m looking forward to it. Let’s do our best together, Megara. I’d love to sit with you, but…”

“I already promised to sit with Brother Mahradi,” Megara replied quickly.

Judging by Mahradi Ennyn’s expression, that was likely a lie. But Nerys just smiled.

Megara might have thought she’d answered casually, but the defensive tone in her clipped response was glaringly obvious.

Nerys replied graciously, not actually intending to sit with her anyway.

“Well, if you’ve already promised, there’s nothing I can do.”

Language classes usually paired students in groups of two. Megara had assumed Nerys would end up sitting alone, but Ren Fayel naturally took the seat beside her. Seeing this, Megara frowned subtly, making sure no one else noticed.

‘Hmph, birds of a feather, I suppose.’