❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

Celentine Academy’s library was Aster’s escape from the relentless social games of nobility. Here, no one whispered about status or bloodlines… only the rustling of pages and the scent of old paper filled the air.

She made her way to the librarian’s desk, where Madame Briswell barely looked up from her book.

“You’re early today,” the older woman noted, adjusting her eyeglasses.

“The ceremony ended quickly,” Aster replied, placing her satchel down.

“Good. There’s work to be done. We had new books arrived this morning. Sort them first.” Madame Briswell gestured toward a stack of books.

Aster nodded, getting to work. As she carefully arranged the books, she picked out one on Crescentis history, intending to read it later. If she wanted to become a diplomatic scholar, she needed to know the kingdom inside and out .

She had just finished shelving the last book when a melodic yet entitled voice rang out.

“Excuse me, do you have anything on elegance?”

Aster turned to see a young noblewoman standing before her. Her hair, a pale shade of mint, was cut short at the back, while longer strands at the front framed her delicate features. Deep brown eyes regarded her with effortless confidence, as if she had always been accustomed to being the center of attention.

Aster recognized her immediately. Renie Varcallis. A transfer student from another prestigious noble academy, she had been introduced briefly during the ceremony as the envoy of the Academy Council. From what Aster had heard, Renie came from a family of similar rank to Isadora’s, making her someone of influence within noble circles.

Unlike Flavia’s sharp arrogance or Isadora’s coy scheming, Renie carried herself with an almost dreamy superiority, like she believed she was born to be admired.

Aster hesitated. “Elegance?”

Renie sighed dramatically, as if she were asking something completely obvious. “Yes. Something about fashion, court etiquette, or how to carry oneself properly. Oh! Maybe something on ladies-in-waiting.” She smiled, twirling a strand of hair. “I do plan to become the queen’s lady-in-waiting someday. And, naturally, become the prince’s bride.”

Aster blinked. Renie spoke as if her dreams were already reality, certain that everything was already set in stone.

Still, she nodded and walked over to a section near the back, pulling out The Graceful Path: Courtly Etiquette. “This might be what you’re looking for.”

Renie took the book, flipping through it with disinterest. “Hmm. The illustrations are outdated.”

Before Aster could respond, the sound of approaching footsteps made her stiffen.

“Oh, Lady Renie!” Flavia’s honeyed voice echoed through the shelves. “I was wondering where you’d gone.”

Aster turned to see Flavia and Isadora gliding toward them, their expressions alight with amusement.

“We thought you’d be settling in by now,” Isadora added, her eyes flicking toward Aster before focusing back on Renie. “Not… here.”

Renie lifted her chin. “I was simply looking for a book.”

Flavia’s eyes gleamed as she caught sight of the title. “Oh, how fitting,” she cooed. “Learning the ways of court? A wise choice, Lady Renie. After all, not everyone can carry themselves with noble grace.”

Aster knew exactly where this was going.

Renie, however, didn’t seem to notice—or perhaps she simply didn’t care. She smirked, tucking the book under her arm. “It never hurts to be prepared.”

Flavia laughed lightly. “Come, we were just about to have tea. You must join us.”

Isadora leaned in, lowering her voice in faux concern. “Unless, of course, you’d rather stay here and… study.” She cast a pitying glance at Aster.

Renie looked at Aster then, as if weighing her options.

For a fleeting moment, Aster thought—hoped—Renie might not fall for it.

But then Renie smiled. Not at Aster. At them.

“Tea sounds lovely,” she said, looping her arm through Flavia’s.

Flavia smirked in satisfaction, and as they turned to leave, she cast one last glance at Aster. “Oh, and Miss Winslow? Do be careful with the books. It would be such a shame if they ended up in the wrong hands.”

Aster said nothing as they walked away, their laughter fading into the distance.

She had wanted to believe—just for a moment that Renie could be different.

But in Celentine Academy, nobles always stuck with their own.

And Aster?

She would always be beneath them.

Still, she refused to let it break her.

════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

Aster stacked the last of the heavy tomes onto the return cart, trying to steady her breath. The sting of Flavia’s words lingered, though she forced her hands not to tremble. The library was supposed to be her refuge.

The quiet didn’t last long.

A smooth voice broke the silence. “Ah… you must be the scholarship student, aren’t you?”

Aster froze, then turned. Lord Ranley stood just beyond the shelves, his brunette hair catching the morning light that streamed through the tall windows. An easy smile curved his lips—the kind that seemed designed to win admiration rather than given freely.

He carried a small bundle of ledgers under one arm, the council’s insignia stamped across the covers. Of course. He had only recently been appointed Chronicler of the Academy Council.

Already working so diligently… He’s really amazing, Aster thought.

“Yes. I’m Aster Winslow, my lord. At your service,” she said with a polite bow.

“Well, since the previous Academy Council members all graduated, my duties require me to retrieve the council’s records from the past year.” His tone, however, carried more amusement than duty. He set the ledgers on the desk with a theatrical sigh, as though even dull paperwork brightened in his hands.

Aster quickly lowered her gaze. “Shall I help you find the remaining volumes, my lord?”

Ranley tilted his head, watching her with that lazy, self-assured charm. “Such eagerness. But tell me… do you always work so tirelessly? No wonder the Headmaster favors your scholarship.” His words were gentle enough, but there was an edge beneath them, as if her worth were tied only to her usefulness.

Aster hesitated, unsure whether to take it as praise or mockery.

He leaned casually against the desk, emerald eyes glinting. “Refreshing, though. A girl who finds books more enticing than gossip and chatter. Quite the rare flower here.”

Her cheeks warmed. “Well… it is part of my scholarship. And I enjoy reading here.”

Ranley’s smile widened, pleased at her flustered tone. “Still, don’t bury yourself too much in these stacks. One might think you were hiding from the rest of us. As for myself…” he gave a dramatic sigh, “I would much rather be Archon than Chronicler. This position demands far too much research. I wonder if the new Archon is still enjoying his leisure while I’m buried in dust and ledgers.”

Aster let out a small, amused laugh, finding his theatrical complaint oddly entertaining.

Before she could say anything, footsteps approached.

“Lord Ranley,” Jarrett’s voice cut in, brisk and efficient. “We’re here for the records, remember? The Headmaster asked for last year’s council journals.”

Ranley straightened at once, as though only then recalling the actual reason for his visit. “Ah—yes, of course. Miss Aster, would you assist us in finding them?”

“Y-yes, my lord,” Aster stammered, her pulse racing. To be addressed so directly by him…it almost felt like a dream. She hurried to the shelves, guiding them to the volumes they sought, her hands brushing the spines with practiced familiarity.

Ranley and Jarrett gathered the documents, satisfied with their haul.

Ranley turned back once more, his smile practiced yet dazzling. “Well, I shouldn’t keep the Headmaster waiting. Do take care, Miss Aster. The Academy can be… unkind to those who walk alone.”

And with that, the two young men departed, their footsteps fading into the distance.

Aster lingered at the desk, her cheeks warm, her heart racing faster than she wished to admit.

Lord Ranley… he’s different. He’s the only one who’s ever been kind to me.

Clasping her hands against her chest, she felt the faint press of the moon crystal necklace hidden beneath her dress.

Perhaps, one day… we’ll be closer. And I’ll finally have the courage to ask him about this necklace.

⛧°. ⋆༺☾༻⋆. °⛧°. ⋆༺☾༻⋆. °⛧