Chapter 93: The Third Day of the Festival (XXII).
Meanwhile…
Going back to the villainess' side, unexpectedly she was hearing more of her cousin whom she had thought dead until recently.
"Olivia Charlotte Alarie." (Professor Fraeya) says her name with fondness. "You two are not alike other than the recklessness and the hardheaded personality that runs in your family."
"Hah… I can't believe I get to hear her name for the second time." (Lady Evelyn) chuckles, her mind running through so many things at once. What really happened on that day they thought they were dead?
Did she mourn for nothing?
She left the family for some woman…
But…
"Why is she showing up now…" She could barely believe it, the same woman who told her that she won't go anywhere is somewhere out there, probably running from the old life she left from.
"Is my cousin really alive?" she asked quietly, as if the truth might shatter if spoken too loudly.
Enough to hope.
Not enough to believe.
She's already heard of the news from the crown prince, offering bits and pieces of information of her location but…
The elven professor smiles, taking something out of her sleeve instead of her spatial inventory. As if everything was prepared in advance, "I was waiting for the right time to give you this. She's alive and I wrote her a letter weeks ago detailing your current dealings. My apologies if I kept it all a secret until now."
"I was under a contract that I wouldn't tell any of her enemies that she was alive… but you… she doesn't consider you as such."
"A letter from Sister Olivia?" The villainess' eyes sparkled a bit as she took the letter, a fraction of a moment it seemed she was trying not to cry. Her eyes shimmered despite herself. For a fleeting moment, she looked very young- barely holding herself together.
On the back of the envelope, written in familiar, elegant script, was her name.
To Evelyn Alarie.
From—
Olivia Charlotte Borbon-Alarie.
"…!"
Lady Evelyn stared.
Her heart slammed violently against her ribs.
"Their last names…" She breathed, disbelief and something fragile blooming in her chest. "…She's married now."
For the first time since the duel- Since the pain, the ice, the blood-
Her hands trembled not from frostbite…
But from hope.
"She's really okay… Olivia… is safe. My cousin is safe…" (Lady Evelyn) hugs the letter to her chest before smiling, the world and burden on her shoulders feels so light. "Thank you, Professor Fraeya… I have to know, is she finally… truly happy?"
"My, what a question. I suppose she is." The elven professor chuckles gazing at the eyes of the young girl. Oh but these eyes are a trademark for the proud household Alarie.
Silver hair and periwinkle eyes.
Ever cold when met with strangers, yet unfailingly warm toward those they loved- The gentleness they showed then was always startling.
"I was curious," (Professor Fraeya) said lightly, head tilting. "Is your lineage full of reckless and hardheaded people?"
Lady Evelyn blinked.
"…?"
The question caught her off guard.
For a brief moment, she didn't know whether to be offended.
'Reckless,' perhaps.
But, 'hardheaded?'
The villainess didn't know if she should be offended by that, she's very reckless and contrary to being hardheaded she's very open minded to suggestions.
"She faked her own death," the elf said calmly. "Promised never to return. Chose to live a new life and forget everything her old one held- including family."
Lady Evelyn's chest tightened.
"The temptation to contact you through a safe channel…" Professor Fraeya's voice softened. "It was everything. But I suggest you open the letter after the festival concludes."
She paused, then added gently, "She is currently taking refuge in the Elven Empire."
Lady Evelyn looked up sharply.
"And… her lover is with child."
"W-With child?" (Lady Evelyn) echoed, disbelief breaking through her composure. She frowned, confusion clouding her expression. "With whom? I was told she ran away with a woman- shouldn't she be the one- I… I'm confused. Isn't it impossible for two women to have a child?"
Professor Fraeya smiled, serene and knowing. The rituals of elves are forbidden to be talked by outsiders about, but... for history for the Alaries must have forgotten their roots.
"An ancient elven ritual," She explained. "Blessed by our Goddess of Fertility. It requires patience, understanding, and unwavering responsibility- one must truly be prepared to care for another life."
Her emerald eyes gleamed faintly.
"If the goddess hears sincere prayers," she continued, "she answers."
Lady Evelyn fell silent, trying to process it all. The cousin who she thought had died is now married, living away from her noble life and has a child now.
That kind of life is possible…
Olivia Charlotte Alarie is living proof of it.
"..."
The villainess looked at the letter that was in her hands and wandered off into a fantasy-like dreamland where her hands held the girl she liked. They were laughing together as their children ran up to them asking for upsies.
She thought about running.
She thought about being free with someone she loves.
She thought about Analissa Blanchet.
To be married, to put a ring on her finger and have their last names be merged together.
Blanchet-Alarie.
"I would explain further," (Professor Fraeya) said, glancing toward the arena where the crown prince stood with Lady Mirelle Avalon, "but the match is still ongoing. If you intend to win, I suggest you watch closely."
Her tone sharpened just slightly.
"A word of advice," she added. "He fights dirty."
"…I noticed," (Lady Evelyn) replied quietly. The past matches he's had were sloppy repeats of the same spells and bribery. She truly worries if he becomes king what would become of the kingdom and country.
"Good," (Professor Fraeya) said with a faint nod. "If you seek more answers, you know where to find me."
She turned to leave, then paused.
"She's quite lucky, your cousin." (Professor Fraeya) added, almost idly, "to have silver hair like ours."
With that she left. Her footsteps were soundless as she disappeared back toward the corridor. She went back with all the other professors and sighed.
"Silver hair… a symbol of royalty in elves." (Lady Evelyn) murmured. Her fingers brushed a loose strand of her own dark hair. "…I'm the only one in my family who doesn't."
The words lingered.
Not bitter.
Just quietly, achingly true.
Lady Evelyn remained still for a moment. Then, carefully, she lifted the letter.
"[Inventorium]," Her fingers brushed the seal one last time before she slid it into her spatial inventory, storing it away with deliberate care- out of sight, but never out of mind.
'Later,' she promised herself. 'After everything is over.'
She uncorked the vial. The potion shimmered faintly, pale blue light swirling within like frozen moonlight. Without hesitation, she drank it down in one steady motion.
The taste was sharp, cool and bitter- sending a chill straight through her chest.
Seconds passed.
Then-
Her breath hitched.
The pain in her hands flared once, sharp enough to make her gasp-
"…ngh-!"
-and then began to recede.
Warmth spread beneath the ice, not hot, but steady. Controlled. Like a quiet current flowing through frozen veins. The frost clinging to her skin cracked softly, flakes dissolving into mist as sensation slowly returned.
Her fingers trembled.
Then stilled.
"…It's working," she whispered.
The burning dulled. The numbness eased. Mana that had been violently strained began to settle back into place, no longer screaming, no longer tearing at her core.
Not healed completely- But stabilized.
Lady Evelyn flexed her hand slowly, wincing only slightly.
'Her skills in potions are truly remarkable,' She thought faintly. The villainess exhaled, shoulders lowering for the first time since the match ended.
The pain was still there.
But now-
She could endure it.
"Hah-! Hah-!"
Footsteps echoed down the corridor, hurried and uneven.
"I've-!" The girl nearly stumbled as she came into view. "I've been looking for you!"
Lady Evelyn turned sharply, seeing her opponent from before looking bent and out of shape. "…Miss Penelope Thatcher?"
Penelope bent forward, hands braced on her knees, chest heaving violently as she fought to draw in air. Strands of her hair clung to her face, sweat dampening her collar.
"Easy," (Lady Evelyn) said instinctively. "What's wrong? Catch your breath first."
"T-There has been-!" (Penelope) coughed hard, straightening only to stagger again. "A change of plans-!"
Her breathing finally slowed just enough for the words to come out clearly.
"In the duel order," she continued hoarsely. "You only have- cough- ten minutes before your next fight!"
Silence fell.
Lady Evelyn stared at her.
"…What."
The single word was cold.
Ten minutes.
"Who ordered the change?" She asked calmly.
Penelope swallowed. "Everyone's scrambling. Mr. Wazinki's panicking, Lady Mirelle has yielded her place, Xi Yuan has fainted due to fatigue and-"
She hesitated.
"And?" (Lady Evelyn) pressed.
"I'm afraid…" (Penelope) lowered her gaze. "The two of you are the only ones left in the competition."
Lady Evelyn closed her eyes for a brief moment, steadying her breathing, feeling the potion still working through her veins, "Thank you for telling me."
Penelope blinked. "Y-You're not angry?"
"I am," (Lady Evelyn) replied evenly. "Just not at you."
She straightened, posture settling back into its familiar poise.
"Ten minutes," she repeated. "Then I won't waste a second."
Her eyes hardened- not with fear, but resolve.
'Your dirty tricks won't work on me Dereck,' she thought coldly, 'Now that I know Analissa is safe now… I don't have to finish him off early.'
===
The arena waited.
Minutes passed, yet no spell was cast. No wind stirred, no flame ignited.
Whispers rippled through the stands.
"What's going on? Why isn't she moving?"
"She's just standing there…"
"Menacingly?" Another scoffed. "No- she looks nervous. Completely out of it."
"Hey! What's taking so long? The match has already started!"
At the center of the arena, Lady Mirelle Avalon stood frozen.
Her wand trembled faintly in her grip. Across from her, Crown Prince Dereck Louvecroft waited- perfectly composed, arms at his side, a faint, knowing smile carved into his face. He had not moved an inch.
Lady Mirelle swallowed hard.
Her eyes flicked upward to the family stands.
They were watching. Her parents sat straight-backed, faces proud, trusting. Her siblings leaned forward eagerly, unaware. Banners bearing the Avalon crest fluttered gently behind them.
'They're supporting me,' She thought desperately.
Her fingers tightened.
Then she remembered the quiet words whispered to her earlier- spoken in a shadowed corridor, delivered with a smile that never reached his eyes.
A threat dressed as mercy.
Her lip trembled.
She bit down hard.
"Say it," The prince murmured softly, just loud enough for her to hear.
Lady Mirelle's breath hitched.
The crowd fell silent as she finally raised her wand- only to lower it again.
"I…" Her voice wavered. "I yield."
Gasps erupted.
"I respect the crown," (Lady Mirelle) continued, words spilling out faster now, as if afraid she might stop. "I cannot face His Highness. I have been- I am- I have…"
She clenched her eyes shut.
"I am unable to continue," she said at last. "My family supports the Crown Prince. It is my honor, my duty not to raise my wand against His Highness."
Her shoulders shook.
"I… will gladly show my loyalty through this."
Silence followed.
Not the triumphant kind.
The wrong kind.
From the stands, her family stared in shock- confusion dawning far too late. The crown prince smiled. And just like that- The match ended before it ever truly began.
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