MLWP 3

Chapter 3

From the woman seated in the middle of the principal’s office came a look of clear disapproval.

“I wonder what kind of upbringing you had. Or perhaps—”

Her sharp gaze turned toward Principal Paxton.

“—you learned this at school?”

“Kh, khm!”

The principal broke into a cold sweat and shrank into himself.

Truthfully, the school barely kept running on cheap tuition fees; it was never the kind of place that looked after its students. It was common to neglect them or ignore misconduct altogether. Knowing that, his guilty conscience showed.

“W–well, our school…”

“I see enough.”

At that cold voice, Cilia lowered her head as if cowed, and mouthed silently—

‘Damn it. This was the only place I had left.’

It was the only school her father could get her into to avoid older, wealthy men who wanted to take in a young, vulnerable noblewoman from a fallen family as their wife.

‘He even sold our mansion to afford this! What would you know!’

“Whichever the case, I find nothing satisfactory here.”

“…”

Cilia quietly lifted her gaze. The woman with chestnut-brown hair and stunning beauty who had been expressing her displeasure all along was Cecile Bronieux–Diamant, the head of the Diamant branch of the Bronieux family. They were distantly related by blood, but the line had split generations ago—hardly a meaningful connection. If one traced it precisely, they were something like the cousin of a cousin’s cousin twice removed. Unlike the ruined Bronieux line, however, the Diamant family was powerful—rising from a mere baron’s branch to amass immense wealth and political influence, even earning the title of high lord.

The air around Cecile, who had practically pushed Paxton out of his own chair and seated herself in it, radiated authority impossible to ignore.

In truth, Cilia had met Cecile before—under nearly identical circumstances in her previous life.

“Your father asked for my patronage. I came to see whether you’re worth it.”

At that time, Cecile had looked her up and down, then turned away as if she wasn’t even worth reconsidering.

“Tsk.”

She’d simply clicked her tongue and left without another word, not even a proper farewell.

Cilia never heard from her again—except for the news that reached her later: the tragedy that befell the Diamant family not long after the outbreak of the Demon War.

Remembering that made her suddenly feel detached. Even Cecile’s piercing gaze now seemed pitiful. Perhaps that faintly showed on her face, for Cecile’s voice turned cold.

“Your eyes are disrespectful.”

“My apologies.”

“I came all this way to see a distant relative, and yet you feel no need to show me courtesy?”

“Of course not, Countess.”

Cilia wanted nothing more than to storm out rather than deal with this haughty noblewoman. She longed to sneer—Let’s see how long that arrogance lasts. You’ll get what’s coming to you soon enough.

The only reason she didn’t act on that defiance was Cecile’s son, Fliar.

She remembered that tragedy all too well.

Cecile Diamant had one son—Fliar Diamant. Widowed young, she had refused the endless pressure to remarry, devoting herself entirely to raising and educating her son, turning him into a respectable gentleman.

And that very son had gone to war, fought on the frontlines, and was beheaded by a demon.

His head was never found; they buried only his body. Cilia knew this from a letter her father had received from the army.

She didn’t know the man personally, but unlike other nobles who disguised servants as themselves or fled conscription, he had gone and fought. That alone made him better than most.

“A fellow soldier… I can respect that.”

Instead of bowing, Cilia gave a slight nod of her knee and spoke calmly.

“Of course not, my lady. Thank you for coming all this way. Now that you’ve seen me, wouldn’t you say your business here is done?”

“S–Student Cilia Bronieux…”

Poor Paxton was trembling like a leaf, unable to bear the tension filling the room. His shaking pupils almost made her pity him.

But—

“Haven’t I held back once already, for your son’s sake?”

Cilia remembered the back of Cecile’s head as she’d clicked her tongue and walked away in her previous life. Back then, Cilia had accepted it as her own inadequacy.

But after everything she’d suffered, she could now vividly imagine how her once-proud father must have bowed to this woman, humbling himself for his daughter’s sake. She had seen him bow often—to creditors, to other nobles. She could picture the scene perfectly: his bent back, his worn face turned toward the floor, his trembling voice pleading, “Please…”

The image was so vivid it hurt. She forced it from her mind.

“My father must have sought your aid without asking my opinion, Countess.”

Cecile would likely dismiss her again, just as before.

“Then why should I bow to her?”

Whether Cecile knew what she was thinking or not, she spat, almost biting off the words.

“So it’s not just your hair—you have your mother’s insolent attitude too.”

“Ah, I see. Thank you for telling me what kind of person my mother was.”

Her tone remained polite, expression unchanged, and a wrinkle appeared between Cecile’s brows.

In truth, Cilia had never known her mother—she’d died when Cilia was an infant, and they had been too poor even to keep a portrait.

“Since I barely remember her, I appreciate hearing about her. Really, thank you.”

A faint smile touched Cilia’s lips. She was long past being hurt by insults like this.

Cecile’s barbs were nothing compared to the jeers of loan sharks or the threats of brutal soldiers she’d faced before.

“Countess, I understand that I am not important to you. But I, too, have my own life—and your favor has no bearing on it.”

That was the truth. After living through the future, she no longer needed their approval. She had bigger enemies to deal with.

“Huh?”

“You probably just didn’t want people to say the Diamants are heartless for refusing a distant relative’s plea. However—”

To Cilia, Cecile was little more than an obstacle to sweep aside.

“You needn’t worry. The Bronieux name may be old, but those who bear it still know honor.”

Her tone was deliberately courteous.

“Frankly, I’d worry that even speaking with me might tarnish the Diamant name. You’ve worked hard to step out from your main house’s shadow, haven’t you?”

“…”

“There’s no need to sponsor Bronieux. People would only gossip—that the mighty Diamants beg favors from their own cadet branch.”

“St–student Cilia… The Countess is—”

“I’m grateful for your kind intentions.”

“…”

“I wish you good health.”

She did it—she turned her away at the door.

Her words even carried the sting that nobles obsessed with lineage would find unbearable: You’re still a branch family, not the main line. It was her way of striking first before she could be humiliated again.

Cecile would surely explode. Cilia wouldn’t have been surprised if something—say, that fan in Cecile’s hand—came flying across the room to slap her. Hmm, that wouldn’t even hurt much, she thought.

She tensed, ready for the blow.

Instead—

“I thought you were a coward who couldn’t speak her mind.”

“…?”

Cilia looked up to see Cecile staring straight at her, eyes gleaming with something close to fascination. There was even… warmth in them?

What the hell?

“E–excuse me, Countess Diamant.”

Principal Paxton, who had been fidgeting like a scolded puppy between feuding masters, finally spoke.

“It’s fine.”

Cecile opened her fan, covering her mouth.

“Truly, you’re just like your mother.”

She said the same words as before, but this time without contempt. There was something wistful in her tone—something almost tender. It was startling.

“You may go now.”

The moment the words left her mouth, Cilia blurted out, “Yes-thank-you-goodbye!” so fast that not even the king himself could have interrupted, and she bolted from the office.

If she’d stayed under that gaze any longer, she felt she really would sprout a hole somewhere in her body.

“What on earth…”

This visit had gone differently. Maybe because she had acted differently.

“…Maybe other things will change too.”

A throbbing headache struck her, and she clutched her head.

“Problem is, I’ve no idea if that’s good or bad. Damn it.”

Lost in thought, she eventually found herself not in the main building where the principal’s office was, but near the dormitory annex.

Classes were in session, so everything was quiet. Only the sound of her own light footsteps echoed through the corridor.

Rustle—

Something felt… wrong.

And instinct told her that whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

“Huh?”

Her body’s mana circuits suddenly flared to life—reacting on their own. A reflex born of pure survival instinct. Goosebumps raced down her arms.

Trained habits from her soldier days kicked in, and she sprinted to the window.

Outside lay a dense, dark forest—and in front of it, an open clearing.

Across that clearing, someone in a heavy robe was running—fast—and being chased by something.

And Cilia knew exactly what that something was.

The memory struck like a thunderclap—the blood-red sky devouring the world, the blistering heat of the battlefield, the screams of dying people. Her chest tightened.

“Demon beast…!”

The instant the words left her mouth, the cheap glass window beside her shattered with a deafening crash.