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I land gracefully on the rooftop, my legs quivering from the strain. Eira's already there, chewing gum and messing around on her screen. Lysandra is eyeballing Argos and the others, probably because she still thinks Jud is batshit crazy. Can't blame her.

"How did it go?" Eira asks without lifting her eyes from the screen.

I toss a pouch her way. "I'm sure you were enjoying the show, huh?" Tsk, my whole body is aching; I need to crash back at the academy.

"So what was the point of this game?" Lysandra yawns, clearly unimpressed.

My lips curl into a smirk as I pull out four long, black feathers from another pouch. "Hehe, what do you think, Eira?"

Lysandra won't understand the value of these, so why bother explaining? Eira examines the feathers before stashing them in her bag. "One for each of us, right? Just tell me what you want later. I'm curious to play around with them."

Lysandra shrugs, giving up on deciphering our coded conversation and flops down on the ground. At this point, Argos decides to break his silence.

"Uhm, thank you for helping us escape. I'm sure we would've died sooner or later if we stayed in that church," he mutters, walking up to me.

I sigh inwardly. Seriously? Small talk now? I pat his shoulder. "Don't worry about it. You're going to pay us, so there's no need for thank-you's."

Eira and Lysandra finally get up and stretch. I hand Argos a piece of paper. "Deposit the agreed amount into this account."

We start walking to the edge of the rooftop, but then I remember one last thing and spin around. "Ah, I almost forgot. If you don't pay, I'll find you. So take care and don't go falling into the church's hands again."

Eira, Lysandra, and I leap off the building and make our exit. Those guys aren't going to be any use to us anytime soon. No point in keeping ties.

★

I wince as the alcohol stings the cuts on my arm. Tsk, what a pain. No point in using potions; the cuts aren't deep enough to justify wasting money on a healing potion.

Ilka, lounging in my hair like she owns the place, can't help but offer her unsolicited wisdom. "If you put more effort into training, this wouldn't have happened."

I click my tongue, the sound echoing my annoyance. "I'm already spending six hours a day dealing with your monstrous training regimen. And that's just with you; I still have to sharpen my swordsmanship, refine my magic, and learn all the other crap they're throwing at us."

Ilka huffs, her tiny form puffing up as if she's been personally insulted. "Hmph, you know my training is waaaaay better. I mean, look at you; before my teachings, you couldn't do one-tenth of what you can do now."

I roll my eyes but can't really argue with her on that point. Dammit, she's half-right, and she knows it. "Alright, fine, your training's top-notch. Happy now?"

Ilka gives a satisfied little sigh. "See, was that so hard to admit? Now, imagine how unstoppable you'd be if you just dedicated a bit more time."

"You've got to be kidding me. I'm already running on fumes here," I retort. The thought of more training on top of my already packed schedule makes me want to groan.

She snickers. "Oh, you'll live. Just think of it as a little extra spice to add to your already overly packed, incredibly unmanageable, and completely unreasonable daily routine."

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Isabella sits in her dorm, the rich aroma of coffee filling the room. She flips the page of the book she's engrossed in when a knock at the door interrupts her. Just who came to bother me at this time? Is it the commoner? Coating her eyes with mana, she scans the figure behind the door. Hmm, what is Princess Aira doing here?

With a sigh, Isabella places her book down and opens the door. Aira walks in, her face grim. "Hey, Isabella. Do you have any healing potions?" Ugh, what the hell happened? Tsk, In the end, Cassian apologized and left before explaining why there were griffins surrounding the church.

Isabella simply raises an eyebrow before walking back to the table. She reaches into her bag, placing a potion bottle on the table, then sits back down. As she takes another sip of her coffee, she reopens her book. "You don't look well, Aira. Did you perhaps train with Isadora?" Fifteen wounds, not that deep. However, her ears seem to have gotten significant damage.

Aira sighs and grabs the potion, stripping off her clothing to apply it to her wounds. "Mother tasked Liam and me in assisting the Holy Church. They were being attacked by dozens, possibly over a hundred griffins." That man, that weapon he was holding. He wasn't affected by the sudden screeching off of all the griffins.

Flipping a page, Isabella responds, "For griffins to get into the city... the Queen must be furious. Why didn't the Saints heal you?" A direct attack solely on the church...

Aira starts cleaning her ears with a grim expression. "A powerful griffin appeared, a pureblood evolved griffin. There was also a third-party group. They took advantage of the chaos and broke into the church's basement. I saw it happen—a bag full of young griffins. Once he let them go, with a single swipe of his wing, the griffin killed everyone related to the church." Why was the church holding so many young griffins? I understand if they planned on taming them but wouldn't it be better to tame one before catching dozens of them?

Isabella closes her book and takes another sip of her coffee. I see, she got to meet a griffin king. Only a king has the power to massacre anyone they want with a swipe of a wing. A feather from such a creature would be amazing. The magical properties of a regular griffin are already incredible; how amazing are the ones from a king?

Isabella contemplates Aira's words for a moment before shifting the topic. "What about Liam?" If he was with Princess Aira, then he should've taken significant damage as well.

Aira clicks her tongue, her eyes narrowing. "That bastard is fine." Nothing but an idiot. If he took things seriously instead of attempting to get me killed, we might have been able to catch that man. She rummages through her bag, pulling out a fresh pair of clothes and dressing herself.

Isabella shakes her head and lets out a slow breath. "Are you aware that V, that commoner, has for some reason managed to join the student council?" The student council has fallen so low for someone like V to be invited before Aira or me.

Aira sighs, her posture relaxing a tad. "Yes, the student council has been having a difficult time maintaining control, as I believe a man named Kuza is attempting to gain control over it. Regardless of the reason, this is a good thing. Isabella, I understand your natural hatred towards commoners, but V is intelligent and useful. Since he has no interest in aligning himself with Liam or me, that means there's a high chance Liam hasn't taken over the student council. I didn't plan on joining it, but it seems like I'll have no choice." Hmm, is it his connection to Isadora and the new girl Lysandra? It doesn't matter, I'll take over the student council before Liam does.

Isabella releases a sigh, interlocking her fingers in contemplation. "Aira, may I ask you to keep your hands off V? It won't be long until I make him my servant."

Aira's eyebrows shoot up, clearly taken aback. "Did you take a liking to him?" No way, did Isabella actually want a commoner as a servant? This is a miracle... she's finally changing.

Tilting her head and rubbing her chin thoughtfully, Isabella replies, "Is there a problem with that?" I'll have mother bestow him the title of a baron; that way, he won't be a complete embarrassment. Tsk, if only there were a useful noble, most nobles are slacking off.

Aira raises her hands in surrender, chuckling softly. "No, no, I don't mind, as long as Liam doesn't get him. I'm just surprised you're putting effort into a commoner."

Both women share a moment of unspoken understanding, their gazes locking briefly. The complexities of their world — the magic, the social hierarchy, the looming threats — seem to shrink in the room, dwarfed by the palpable tension and ambitions that bind and separate them. Finally, Isabella reaches for her coffee, breaking the moment.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Seriously? Why did it have to be in cooking class? The exasperation in my mind couldn't be clearer. Here I am, sandwiched between Biana—who's clearly more interested in staying warm than actually cooking—and Lysandra, who's eagerly eyeing the raw meat on the cutting board like a predator. Both are insufferable in their own right, and here they are, crowding my space in the one class where I actually know what I'm doing.

"Dammit, Biana! What the hell are you doing? You're going to light yourself on fire, you dumb bitch! Why can't you sleep on a seat?" I nearly shout as Biana inches dangerously close to the stove. My words come out sharp and serrated, like a knife through butter.

"It's warm here... You took my blanket, and this is the only warm place," she mumbles, setting her head on her favorite pillow. Her eyes are half-lidded, clearly uninterested in the culinary arts unfolding around her.

Can you believe this? I click my tongue in frustration, so hard it almost feels like it'll snap off. The sound reverberates in the room, marking my distaste for her lackadaisical attitude.

Just as I'm about to lay into her some more, I catch sight of Lysandra, her hand reaching out for the raw meat. Oh, you've got to be kidding me.

"No, no, no, no. You can't eat it raw, Lysandra... I mean, you can, but you shouldn't. Look, first spread the butter on the pan," I admonish, yanking the piece of meat out of her clutches.

She makes a disgruntled sound, which is impressive given that she usually couldn't care less about anything. Gods above, is cooking really that complicated for her?

I physically move Biana to a seat, hauling her across the kitchen like a sack of particularly lazy potatoes. "I only took your blanket away because you keep dropping everything with it," I grumble, my voice tinged with exasperation. The teacher gave up on disciplining Biana ages ago, and honestly, I can't blame them.

Biana makes a whiny noise that sounds remarkably like a dying cat. "V... I'm hungry... feeeeeed meeeee," she drones, her words stretched out and exaggerated, as if trying to pull at my last shreds of patience.

Suddenly, Lysandra grabs my arm with her brute strength, yanking me toward her. Holy hell, woman. "No, she's a lazy bitch; feed me first. Come on," she demands, her words thick with entitlement.

"We made a blood pact; you have to feed me. I'm hungry. I want 15 of those steaks you made me last time," she adds, as if the blood pact were some kind of endless coupon for free food.

Is she serious? I look from Biana's needy expression to Lysandra's domineering one, feeling like I've been caught in some twisted, culinary triangle. The clicking of my tongue serves as a metronome to my growing annoyance. If these two end up being the future of this world, then we're all fucked. Dammit, I should've put Lysandra in another class, Biana is being bitchy just cause of Lysadnra. When is she going to stop holding a grudge against her?

"Fine," I huff, detaching myself from both of their grasps. I expertly maneuver around the stove, showing a level of skill that probably belongs on a gourmet cooking show rather than this disaster of a classroom. I prepare the steaks, seasoning them perfectly before laying them into the hot, buttered pan. The sizzle fills the air, a sound as pleasing to me as it is enticing to the two leeches by my side.

As the aroma fills the air, I finally let out a sigh. Okay, Kael, You've got this. Just cook the food, feed these insatiable monsters, and get on with your life. I still need to prepare for that Ruin.

Yeah, I can totally do this. I think.

At least, that's what I keep telling myself.