Chapter 4:
“Gillota. Is student Gillota not here?”
Even in the last class, there was no response to the professor’s call. The students murmured but soon quieted down. Damien sank into thought. In his hand rested a yellow butterfly. The butterfly fluttered its wings and flew off somewhere. Damien watched the butterfly disappear and responded to the voice calling his name.
“Damien.”
“Yes.”
Ayla looked at the butterfly that had flown out of the lecture hall. No one else saw the glittering butterfly—it was one Damien had sent off. She couldn’t tell where the butterfly was headed.
“Ayla.”
“Yes.”
Ayla answered the professor’s roll call dutifully, then leaned toward Damien and whispered.
“What was that?”
“What was what?”
“That butterfly. You sent it, didn’t you?”
“Oh. Um… you could say it was a guide.”
“A guide?”
“Yeah. A guide.”
Damien’s answer did nothing to clear her confusion. Was it related to magic? Though there were two mages around her, Ayla knew next to nothing about magic. She wanted to ask where and why he had sent the butterfly, but judging by that mysterious smile, he wouldn’t answer. Ayla quickly gave up and focused on the lecture instead. It had nothing to do with her anyway.
At least, that’s what she thought at the time.
One day. Two days. Then three.
“Gillota. Still no student Gillota today?”
Still, there was no reply. Gillota hadn’t shown up for three days. Most students didn’t care. They figured she’d soon submit a leave of absence or drop out.
But not Damien. That strange feeling still lingered, constantly warning him. It had only been three days—too soon to jump to conclusions. But…
“Ayla, do you remember what that herb smelled like?”
Ayla, who had Damien’s head resting on her lap while she read a Radia-language original text, lowered her book and looked at him as if to ask, why do you want to know that? Damien wasn’t looking at her. His gaze was fixed on some distant point. Ayla knew that look—he was deep in thought.
“Well… I think I’ve smelled it before, maybe not.”
“If you smelled it again, would you recognize it?”
“Probably, yeah.”
At her answer, Damien turned to look at her. As she gazed into his amethyst-colored eyes, Ayla felt her heart flutter. She wanted to keep him.
“But why are you asking about that?”
Why was he suddenly bringing this up so seriously? It didn’t seem like a simple question. It felt like something she shouldn’t know about—something dangerous. A chill crawled up her spine. She thought of the yellow butterfly Damien had sent out three days ago. A guide. Why had he called it that?
Where had it gone?
Ayla set down her book and looked at Damien.
“Damien.”
“Yes, Ayla.”
“What’s going on?”
“Well… I’m just suspicious right now, but…”
His voice trailed off as he continued.
“Either way, you’re going to help me, right?”
It was a question that assumed there could be no refusal. Ayla couldn’t bring herself to say no as she looked into those sparkling lake-like eyes.
…No, Ayla. Get a grip. You’re about to fall for it again. She braced herself. Just as she was about to speak, she inhaled sharply—the lake had come close. A breeze rustled his silver hair.
Swish.
The sound of leaves brushing in the wind tickled her ears. Damien reached out toward her. Ayla couldn’t even blink.
With a bright smile, Damien said her name.
“Ayla.”
“Uh, uh?”
“You had a leaf on you.”
“…”
Only then did Ayla look at his hand. A large green leaf rested there. She scolded herself internally. She must’ve lost her mind for a moment. What on earth had she been thinking? They were just friends. Well, she didn’t consider them friends, but according to Damien’s definition, they were.
Ayla tried to act as if nothing had happened.
“Thanks for taking it off.”
She was glad she hadn’t closed her eyes when his hand approached. Her face felt hot, but that dumb dog probably didn’t notice anything.
The clear lake receded. Only then did Ayla quietly release the breath she’d been holding. Her heart was pounding. She told herself it was just a physical response from lack of proper breathing.
“Ayla.”
“…What now.”
Her irritation flared up for a moment.
“Your hand.”
She looked at the pale hand extended toward her. It waved slightly, as if urging her to give him hers. If she was right, he was asking for her hand. Ayla hesitated. Not because she didn’t want to hold hands—but because she wondered if she should. She had thought it had nothing to do with her. But now, she couldn’t be so sure.
The butterfly fluttering its wings still lingered in her mind.
It was Damien who grabbed her hesitant hand. Ayla flinched and looked at him as warmth wrapped around her hand. Her words caught in her throat.
“Let’s go, Ayla.”
That bright smile resembled sunlight. She didn’t want to be involved. She didn’t want to fall for it. But she couldn’t look away.
Her heart began to race again.
Damien led Ayla to the Department of Herbal Medicine. He walked in without hesitation, and Ayla, lips sealed, followed him. Her heart pounded; her mind screamed to let go of his hand, but her body wouldn’t listen. She felt like the young Ayla again, the one who had followed six-year-old Damien around the imperial palace. They played hide-and-seek, snuck into the emperor’s office, and even got scolded by the empress.
All those times lived in her memories.
What brought her out of that nostalgia was the sharp scent of herbs hitting her nose. Startled, Ayla instinctively covered her nose. Damien was talking to someone she vaguely recognized. Since she was a noble, she had memorized the noble family directory and quickly recalled—he was the youngest son of Count Bertan, a year younger than her.
After speaking with Damien, the young man noticed Ayla and bowed.
“Hello, senior.”
His polite greeting raised her impression of him.
“Yes, hello, Michael.”
At her response, Michael glanced briefly at Damien. Damien’s eyes had gone cold. Michael cleared his throat and looked away.
“I’ll guide you now, seniors.”
He glanced at their clasped hands and decided to pretend he hadn’t seen anything, leading them down the corridor. The room he took them to was a storage area holding all the herbs used by the Department of Herbal Medicine.
“Wow…”
Ayla couldn’t help but marvel. It reminded her of the first time she saw Kailum. If Kailum was filled with books, this room was packed with herbs and medicinal ingredients, all neatly categorized like a well-organized library.
“All the herbs used by our department are here. Each one is preserved with a storage spell.”
“That must cost a lot, huh?”
She spoke without thinking. Realizing what she said, Ayla quickly shut her mouth. Michael’s eyes briefly passed over her. He answered casually.
“I heard half of the department’s budget goes toward storage spells.”
“So, the herbs I asked about?”
Damien’s tone as he addressed Michael sounded cold to Ayla’s ears. She didn’t know why, but she didn’t dwell on it. Michael’s eyes once again flicked toward their hands. And yet they say they’re not dating. Weird.
Michael didn’t care much for gossip, but even he had heard all sorts of rumors about the two of them: walking hand-in-hand, looking extremely close, Damien laying his head on Ayla’s lap, and so on. People said the top student and second-top student were secretly dating.
But they really weren’t dating. Michael had heard it straight from the crown prince himself. Which is why he’s so wary of even someone like me, he thought. Even though Lady Ayla has absolutely no interest in me. Michael was certain: Damien was the only person in this academy who had Ayla’s attention.
“Please have a seat here while I bring them out.”
The room had several long tables and chairs. The white tables were spotless—perfect for distinguishing herbs by color, Michael explained as he stepped away.
Ayla was about to sit when she noticed something odd—her hand felt warm. Slowly, she turned her head.
Only then did she realize she was still holding Damien’s hand. She looked up at him. He smiled brightly, as if nothing was wrong.
Flushing, Ayla quickly pulled her hand away—but he grabbed it again immediately.
“Let go already!”
“Nope.”
“Are you crazy? People can see us!”
She hissed as quietly as she could, not wanting Michael to overhear. Damien only held her hand tighter.
“Damien!”
“It’s your punishment.”
“What?”
“For getting distracted.”
Ayla opened her mouth in disbelief. Distracted? Distracted? What kind of nonsense was that? Who did he think she was distracted by? And what kind of relationship did he think they had to use a word like punishment?
They weren’t even a couple!
