Is It You?

Erich stared blankly at the ceiling of the campus hospital. The ward was quiet—so quiet that he could hear his own heartbeat.

There were three beds in the room. Erich was by the window, Balin was in the middle, and Yser was on the innermost bed. Balin's arm was wrapped in bandages, while Yser leaned halfway against the headboard, flipping through an old book of unknown origin.

Ragg was not there. The beastkin's Constitution was, after all, the strongest among the four; even when he was carried in, he was still doing fine, and he had been cleared and discharged early this morning.

Irene sat on a small stool by Erich's bedside, holding an apple and peeling it carefully with her head lowered. As she peeled, she said, “You need to take better care of your body. If you can't win, just admit defeat. We've only just enrolled; there's no shame in losing.”

Erich continued to stare at the ceiling, his lips twitching slightly. “It's a matter of pride, Irene.”

Irene looked up at him, uttered an “oh,” and didn't say anything more. She cut the peeled apple into small pieces, skewered one, and held it to Erich's lips.

Erich opened his mouth and took a bite. The apple tasted good.

Apples also sat on Balin and Yser's nightstands. Balin glanced at his bandage-wrapped arm, then at Erich, who was currently being fed a second piece of apple, and finally chose to turn his head the other way.

The ward door was pushed open, and Lorraine walked in with light steps. She jogged over to Erich's bed, looking incredibly energetic.

“How are you doing, Erich? You owe me a huge favor this time!”

Erich glanced at her. “When did I ever owe you a favor?”

Lorraine put her hands on her hips, her expression exaggerated. “If I hadn't brought everyone there in time, you would've been brutally ravaged by those crazy second-years!”

Erich couldn't help but wonder if Lorraine was a bit of an idiot. Then, he suddenly remembered that she could read minds, and quickly chanted “Form is emptiness, emptiness is form” in his head to empty his thoughts.

Unfortunately, Lorraine had already heard him, and she was now glaring intently at Erich.

The air fell silent for a moment.

“So, how was this matter resolved in the end?” Yser's voice rang out at the perfect time. He closed his book and asked Lorraine.

As expected, Lorraine's attention was diverted. “The school is extremely dissatisfied with the second-years' performance. I reckon their course load is going to get a lot heavier next,” she said, her tone laced with schadenfreude. “As for the freshmen, there might be some kind of reward. The teachers haven't decided yet, since our situation is a first in the academy's history.”

Erich whistled. “Carving out history with a single strike. Pretty cool, huh, little sister?”

Irene couldn't help but roll her eyes. Then, realizing she had been rolling her eyes a bit too much lately, she quickly raised her hand and patted her own face.

A voice drifted in from outside the door, gentle and soft, carrying a hint of urging. “Are you ready, Lorraine?”

It was the Holy Maiden, Celine.

“Coming!” Lorraine called back, then turned back to look at Erich, pointing a finger right at his nose. “Anyway, you owe me a favor. Don't forget it!”

With that, she dashed out of the ward like a whirlwind.

Erich continued to stare at the ceiling and asked, “What are we having for lunch?”

“No idea,” the other three in the ward answered in unison.

Erich clicked his tongue and went back to staring at the ceiling.

...

On the top floor of Silverwing Hall, the curtains were tightly drawn.

No lights were on in the room; only the light projected from a recording crystal flickered against the wall. The footage was somewhat shaky—a recording of the Hunting Festival scene. The person filming seemed to have an unsteady hand, and the dust and magical light in the footage blurred together.

Then, a sword light soared into the sky.

The young princess sat on the edge of the bed, her arms hugging her knees and her chin resting on them as she watched the sword light cleave down.

When the dust cleared, the figure stood there. The camera was too far to make out his face, but his silver hair was dazzlingly bright.

The young princess rewound the footage and watched it again. “Are you at the academy too?”

She seemed to be asking the person in the footage, yet also asking herself.

The image froze at the moment the sword light was at its brightest.

“My knight.”