・┆✦At the Academy Council Office ✦ ┆

The room carried the scent of vellum and polished wood. Despite its grandeur, the Academy Council Office felt cluttered—piles of documents stacked on desks, some gathering dust while others remained untouched. The council members sat around a long table, with Randall at the head as they formally introduced themselves and their roles.

Flavia, standing tall, took a step forward with a proud smile. “As you know, I served as the Academy Council Regent,” she said, extending a neatly bound folder. “Here are the records from my one-week term.”

Randall took the folder with practiced ease, flipping through the first few pages. His sharp eyes scanned the contents, no one can guess what’s running in his mind that moment. Then, as he reached the later pages, the air in the room seemed to shift. He turned a few more, slower this time, before finally shutting the folder with an audible snap.

His gaze lifted,  “Several reports remain incomplete. Unapproved club requests, unprocessed student concerns, and a backlog of financial records.” He glanced toward the desk, where more stacks of paper sat in disarray. “It appears the council has been rather… inattentive.”

Flavia’s smile faltered for a brief moment, but she quickly straightened. “The council has been handling multiple responsibilities, Lord Randall. If you had been here from the start, you would understand the burden we’ve had to carry.”

Randall inclined his head slightly, as if acknowledging her point, yet his words cut cleanly.

“A burden that should have been properly managed,” he said evenly. “It’s only been one week, yet the paperwork has already piled up like this. Delegation exists for a reason, does it not?”

Ranley crossed his arms, patience thinning. “You didn’t even show up the first week, and now you act as if you’ve done better than the rest of us?”

Randall scanned the room, his gaze steady and composed. “I do not doubt the week has been heavy for all of you. But responsibility does not bow to difficulty. You were entrusted with these roles because you were deemed capable of carrying them, even in the Archon’s absence. Do not dishonor that trust.”

Turning slowly toward Ranley, he added, “And Lord Ranley… my absence was due to urgent matters in my household that required my direct attention. The details are not for this council to know nor for you to question, but the headmaster was duly informed. It was far from leisure.”

His eyes swept the room, voice unwavering. “There will be times when an Archon must be absent. That is why a Regent exists… to act responsibly in their stead. In my absence, the Regent and Chronicler were entrusted with keeping the council running smoothly. The headmaster expected nothing less because he believed you could handle it.”

Ranley scowled, but no words came.

Randall then addressed Isadora. “As Keeper of the Coffers, the budget reports should have been finalized. Do you have them?”

Isadora hesitated, gripping her skirt. “I—there were delays,” she admitted.

Randall let out a slow, measured sigh, as though expecting the answer. “Delays that affect the clubs relying on funding. Delays that reflect poorly on this council. You all represent noble households. One day, you will inherit responsibilities far greater than this, yet you fail to uphold even the simplest expectations.”

Ranley let out an annoyed scoff. “What are you, the king? Let me tell you… I met the king once as a child, and he was nothing like this! Who cares if a few reports are late? You act like the weight of the world is on your shoulders.”

Randall’s gaze lingered on him, something faint flickering in his expression.

‘Met the king, did he?…Ranley.’

The name stirred against a half-buried memory, one he had no intention of revisiting here. His composure, however, did not waver.

“If a noble cannot handle the weight of mere paperwork after just one week, how do you expect to govern a household?” Randall’s tone remained calm, yet sharp enough to unsettle them.

A tense silence fell.

Jarrett, as Warden charged with maintaining order, forced a chuckle. “Alright, alright, let’s all take a breath. No need for this to escalate.”

Renie shifted uncomfortably beside Flavia, her pale mint hair slipping forward as she lowered her gaze.

“L-Lord Randall… surely Lady Flavia did what she could. One week isn’t much time to… to settle everything,” she offered, her voice softer than she intended.

Though she tried to sound firm, the slight tremor in her tone betrayed her unease. Randall’s composure was daunting, so much so that even her defense withered the moment his gaze brushed her way.

Randall tapped the disorganized stack of papers on the desk, his tone cool and unyielding. “Alright. I suggest we begin. It’s time this council learned to take accountability for its own negligence.”

Silence followed. Ranley muttered something under his breath, grumbling as he moved to the nearest stack, while the others lowered their heads and began sorting through the work with reluctant hands. One by one, they busied themselves, but the weight of Randall’s words lingered, each of them keenly aware of the impression they had already left. Soon after, the council dispersed, leaving Randall alone in the room a while longer as he gathered his notes and collected the reports left behind.

・┆✦At the Library✦ ┆

As soon as Randall finished, he headed to the library to work on his own assignment, making his way to the history section. He was sliding a book on noble alliances from the shelf when a familiar voice drifted through the rows.

Through the narrow gap between the books, Randall noticed Ranley on the other side, slouched casually against a table where Aster sat. His pose looked at ease, but his voice carried sharp edges.

“Honestly, can you believe that guy?” Ranley muttered, not even bothering to lower his voice. “Shows up late, and the moment he walks in, suddenly we’re all incompetent? Who does he think he is, lecturing us like that?”

Aster blinked, startled that he was speaking to her at all. Her cheeks warmed before she could stop them.

“Maybe his upbringing is just… strict? That’s probably why he takes accountability and responsibility so seriously,” she said with an awkward laugh, trying to lighten his mood.

“You’re actually siding with him right now?” Ranley leaned closer, making Aster flinch. She quickly picked up the book she was reading, holding it up as a makeshift wall between them.

“That’s not what I mean. I… what I’m trying to say is, I think he’s someone who wants to keep things in order. So… uhm… if he realizes you’re working hard, then there’d be no reason for him to scold you unnecessarily.”

Ranley rolled his eyes, propping his elbow on the table and resting his chin on his fist.

“Strict upbringing or not, no one likes a tyrant. All nobles grow up under rigid expectations, but some… wear that weight like a crown. They polish every gesture, every word, until people start believing they’re flawless. And it’s easy to fall for it, especially when you’re new to this world. That’s why you should be careful with men like him. They don’t show you what they’re really thinking…and people like that only see others as pawns.”

Aster peeked over the edge of her book, nodding uncertainly.

Then, with a practiced ease, Ranley’s irritation melted into charm.

“So, anyway, you wouldn’t mind helping me with the assignment, would you?” His grin softened into something more persuasive. “Since Lord Aurelius dumped all this extra work on me, I just don’t have time to dig through dusty old books.”

Aster lowered the book back onto the table, her fingers brushing the cover. “I–well, I guess I could help…” She paused, logic warring with emotion. “But you could at least try to do some of the research yourself. We could work on it together.”

She hoped—perhaps foolishly—that this might be a chance to speak with him alone, to ask about the necklace, or to revisit the past.

Ranley let out a dramatic sigh, his shoulders slumping. “I would, but I’m the Chronicler. If I don’t sort out this council mess, we’re doomed.” He flashed a charming smile. “It’d really help me out.”

Aster’s resolve wavered, torn between reason and the rare attention he gave her.

From behind the bookshelf, Randall shook his head before turning away to find a place for his own assignment. It wasn’t his place to interfere. The choice—whether to give in or stand firm—was Aster’s alone to make.

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