The moment the carriage stopped in front of the Ambrose Estate, Sophia looked like she was about to be executed.
Outside the window, the sprawling mansion loomed in the night. A colossal structure of pristine white stone and towering iron gates. Dozens of elite guards stood at absolute vigilance along the grand path. The estate didn't need magical traps to feel actively hostile. The sheer, suffocating weight of its wealth and strict discipline was enough.
"We can still turn back," Sophia whispered, clutching the edge of her seat. "I can live in a basement."
"Just get out already!" Arion deadpanned, pushing the carriage door open for her.
With a soul-crushing sigh, Sophia stepped out into the freezing night air. She instantly forced her posture completely straight, raising her chin and wrapping herself in the proud, undeniable aura of a Master of Architecture. But Arion could see a vein throbbing in her neck. The threat of losing her beloved velvet sofa back at the Academy was the only thing keeping her from running into the woods.
A butler wordlessly escorted them through the massive oak doors and into the grand hall.
It was absurdly huge. The polished marble floor reflected the light of massive crystal chandeliers, and the towering portraits of past Ambrose ancestors stared down from the walls with harsh, silent judgment.
Arion shoved his hands into his pockets, shifting his weight uncomfortably. He hated places like this. It was too quiet, too pristine, and there were far too many expensive things waiting to be accidentally broken.
Rich people, Arion complained internally.
CLICK. CLICK. CLICK.
The sharp, rhythmic sound of heels echoed from the top of the grand sweeping staircase.
Victoria Ambrose descended.
She was the physical embodiment of traditional perfection. Impeccable posture, sharp, aristocratic features, and a terrifyingly pristine aura of ice-cold authority. She was dressed in a tailored, deep-blue, noble gown that didn't have a single crease.
Halfway down the stairs, Victoria froze.
Her icy blue eyes widened by a fraction of a millimeter as they landed on Sophia. She stared at her old rival, seemingly unable to process the sight of her actually standing upright in perfectly ironed clothes. Victoria's heart raced with a mixture of shock and disbelief.
Victoria quickly recovered, gliding down the rest of the steps with a dangerously polite smile.
"Sophia," Victoria greeted smoothly, her voice like cracking ice. "Heavens. When the guards announced an Academic parley, I assumed the outer gate had simply misidentified a stray cat. To what do I owe this unprecedented occasion? Did the Principal finally evict you from whatever broom closet you sleep in?"
Sophia's eye twitched.
"Victoria," Sophia replied, her tone dripping with stiff, formal politeness. "You look as painfully stern as ever. It is a miracle you can breathe in that corset. I am here on official Academic business."
"Official business?"
The polite smile didn't just vanish; it shattered into absolute, sub-zero fury.
The Ice Queen returned. "You have considerable nerve showing your faces here, Sophia. Your Academy allowed my brother's core to shatter on your watch. I have already filed the preliminary requests. House Ambrose will legally dismantle that pathetic academy stone by stone."
"I am not here to argue the lawsuit, Victoria," Sophia said bluntly. "I am here to fix him. The Principal put him in a death-like stasis to stop the bleeding. When it breaks, he will be dead in seconds."
"Do not lecture me on my brother's condition!" Victoria snapped, her voice echoing sharply in the entire room. "The Principal's stasis coma is the only thing keeping his heart beating. The foremost healers in the capital have already declared the unspooling irreversible. If they cannot stitch his core back together, what could a slacker who sleeps through life possibly do?"
Sophia didn't flinch. She reached into her robe and pulled out the dull silver ring.
"I brought an anchor," Sophia stated, holding the artifact up.
Victoria's gaze flicked to the metal. She took a step forward, her pristine aura flaring with dangerous pressure, her expression twisting in a mix of fury and desperate skepticism. "An anchor? A mundane piece of silver? My brother is trapped in a living death to keep his mana from evaporating, and you presume to fix the irreversible with a trinket? Is this some sick Academic joke?"
"It is not a trinket, Victoria," Sophia said, her voice dropping its usual lazy drawl, replaced by a sharp voice. "It is a relic-tier cage."
Victoria froze. Her icy blue eyes locked onto the ring. Even from a distance, her highly trained traditional senses could finally feel it—the sheer, suffocating weight of the magic woven into the metal.
"A cage?" Victoria breathed, the hostility in her voice wavering for the first time. "How does a cage fix an unspooling core?"
"It acts as a proxy," Sophia explained simply. "This ring was forged to hold an impossible amount of raw mana without breaking. I tweaked it so it won't crush a human. If we put it on Sebastian, it will catch his bleeding mana. It locks his unspooling core in a safe, continuous loop until his natural pathways heal."
Victoria stared at the small circle of silver. Her mind raced, processing the magnitude of what Sophia was holding.
"A relic-tier cage that can withstand an unspooling core..." Victoria whispered, her eyes narrowing in profound suspicion. "That kind of structural integrity is priceless. A national treasure. The Academy would never, under any circumstances, authorize the release of such an artifact for a single student. Where did you get it?"
"I didn't get it from the Academy," Sophia said.
She turned and pointed a single finger directly at Arion.
"It belongs to him," Sophia stated. "It is his personal limiter. And he willingly surrendered it to save your brother."
Victoria stopped breathing. Her heart was pounding in her chest.
Her icy, pristine facade didn't crack, but her entire aristocratic worldview seemed to simply halt.
She stared at the dull silver ring. Then, she slowly turned her intense, piercing gaze toward Arion. He was currently scratching his cheek, looking completely unimpressed by the grand hall.
A commoner? Victoria's mind raced, her worldview violently colliding with the facts in front of her. A single-name nobody casually surrenders a mythical, relic-tier artifact to save the heir of another house? Why? There is no financial compensation that equals the value of that ring. There is no political favor grand enough to justify crippling his own magical pathways. It defies all logic. It defies the very concept of equivalent exchange.
Her icy gaze narrowed on Arion's remarkably unbothered posture.
Unless... Victoria's breath hitched silently. Unless this has nothing to do with logic or politics. To sacrifice one's own power so completely, asking for absolutely nothing in return... There is only one fathomable reason for such an illogical, overwhelmingly self-destructive act.
A scandalous, overpowering, forbidden devotion.
Victoria didn't break character. She remained physically flawless, her posture perfect. But when she spoke again, the crushing hostility was completely gone. Her tone dropped into a hushed, unnervingly respectful whisper.
"You..." Victoria breathed, stepping closer to Arion, her eyes tracing his casual stance. "You would surrender your own power? Entirely? For Sebastian?"
Arion raised an eyebrow, entirely unaware of the catastrophic misunderstanding forming in the noblewoman's head. "I mean, yeah. I just didn't want the kid to explode."
Victoria nodded slowly, her eyes practically shining. Her perfectionist brain immediately translated his blunt, lazy response. He is hiding his deep, passionate pain behind a mask of stoicism. He is willing to destroy himself for my brother, and he won't even ask for recognition. How tragically beautiful.
Victoria turned her back to them with a dramatic, sweeping motion of her gown. "Follow me. Quickly."
As Victoria led them up the grand staircase, maintaining her flawless, icy posture, Kara's pale whirlpool eyes spun silently.
Observation, Kara processed in her internal, clinical monotone. The Sister of the Heir House Ambrose has a dramatically spiked heart rate. Pupil dilation and micro-tremors in her hands indicate extreme emotional investment and an intense romantic obsession. She has constructed a fabricated, tragic narrative to justify Arion's illogical sacrifice.
Kara looked at Arion. He was currently dragging his feet up the marble steps, looking completely oblivious and slightly annoyed by the sheer number of stairs rich people required.
Kara blinked once and chose to say absolutely nothing.