While chatting with Lily, Isabel quickly learned the maid’s original surna.
Lily didn’t hide it.
“—Droste?”
Isabel frowned slightly.
“He did sothing like that?”
She was a bit angry.
She’d always thought well of Minister Droste, considering him one of the better ministers—a rare good one.
Charles Droste, the kingdom’s trade minister, was an old, portly man, yet patient and polite.
Always laughing heartily, he was competent, respectful, and loyal to the Queen.
Even with the once-timider Isabel, he treated her as an equal, never dismissive.
When the Queen complained about disloyal or incompetent ministers, Droste’s na rarely ca up.
This old knight was married with children, even grandchildren in university.
Yet, at his age, he’d been fooling around with a prostitute, fathering a child barely older than his grandchildren.
Isabel had a classmate, Droste’s granddaughter, nineteen and in her second year.
Lily, twenty-six and a first-year, was technically her aunt.
When the mother showed up with the child, old Droste handed off his fourteen-year-old illegitimate daughter to be soone’s maid.
Per Master Yannis, personal maids were often used for…
Isabel knew Lily was innocent.
That’s why she frowned at the jovial old knight, ntally noting his na.
When Isabel’s expression darkened, Lily realized for the first ti that the princess could exude authority.
With her face stern, the shy, quiet girl—reminiscent of Yulia—radiated a faint majesty.
The girls chatted while touring the villa.
When they returned downstairs, they found Aiwas quietly asleep by the gramophone.
Curled in his wheelchair, sleeping Aiwas made Isabel hold her breath.
Lily tiptoed over to cover him with a blanket, but as she approached, Aiwas’s eyes fluttered open.
“I’m not asleep,” he said hoarsely.
[Liar, you just woke up,] Isabel thought.
But she realized sothing else:
[His senses are that sharp?]
Lily made no sound, yet he noticed her approach.
Just then, the villa’s electronic doorbell rang.
Isabel instinctively moved to answer, but Lily stopped her.
“I’ll get it, Your Highness.”
Opening the door, she found Haina, there to fetch Aiwas for class.
Haina peeked inside, eyes wide with awe and envy.
Isabel realized it was already two o’clock.
She hurriedly bid Aiwas, Lily, and Senior Haina goodbye, rushing back to the sixth departnt—she hadn’t taken leave for her afternoon class.
Lily gently wiped Aiwas’s face with a clean towel, as he couldn’t move easily in the wheelchair.
Then she followed Haina to the afternoon classroom.
The afternoon was a language class: Elvish, using The Eighty Selected Poems of Shidael.
Haina chuckled at the sight.
It was the book Aiwas nearly tossed into the fireplace when they first t, stopped by her hand, filled with his self-study notes.
Recalling that mont, Haina understood why Aiwas knew so much about Star Antimony’s history and the empire’s superhuman wars that morning.
Aiwas was a true learner.
His two-month absence must’ve had an unspoken reason.
His earlier teasing was probably because she’d kept him waiting two hours, sparking his youthful temper.
[He’s young, after all,] Haina thought.
[A little temper’s normal… I was in the wrong.]
She shook her head wryly, reminding herself:
[No more being late.]
Haina had little sense of ti.
Before the capital, classmates called her a child cursed by Sandglass.
But she felt it was more a blessing, just misused.
She’d lose hours reading, practicing swordsmanship, or running, ti slipping by unnoticed.
She felt no fatigue, never slacked, and stayed focused.
In her first year, thinking herself smart enough to coast, she nearly failed.
But when she got serious, her grades soared, thanks to her “skip-the-process” learning efficiency.
Haina knew her limits.
She wasn’t truly smart, just good at studying.
That’s why she shed her arrogance.
Classmates who partied yet maintained grades were far smarter.
After university, without this environnt, she’d struggle to learn.
But her classmates could adapt quickly with their wit and talent—her grades didn’t reflect true brilliance.
Haina brought Aiwas to the classroom thirty minutes early.
Elvish was a public course, held in a standard lecture hall.
She introduced Aiwas to the Elvish lecturer before leaving.
Aiwas’s Elvish knowledge was limited, so he focused intently.
He caused no trouble, and the lecturer—a butterfly-like elf writing complex grammar rules on the board—didn’t call on him.
She led students in reciting Elvish poems, correcting their airy, poetic pronunciations.
Though only a lecturer, the lowest rank in Avalon’s academic system—equivalent to a fresh doctoral stay-on—she taught surprisingly well.
In under two hours, Aiwas felt his skills improve noticeably.
Compared to his self-study, he realized:
[This is the superhuman boost to learning from advancing!]
Specifically, the Dedication path had enhanced parts of his body and soul.
His logic and imagination hadn’t spiked, but his mory had improved dramatically.
His physical recovery was better too.
Before, sitting still all day would’ve left him sore and fatigued.
Now, it felt effortless.
He sensed that even without moving or using the Fire Offering ritual for health, his stamina wouldn’t wane.
Though his panel didn’t show base attributes, he felt the growth.
After class, Aiwas joined Aiden and others, chatting leisurely on the way to the White Slipper Club.
Located in the sixth departnt, Isabel was already waiting eagerly at the entrance.
Unlike at Aiwas’s classroom, where she could pretend to watch the training field, the club’s entrance offered nothing—a bike shop, a music store, a cigar and tobacco shop, a handmade silver chanical pencil store, and a bar.
No good distractions.
So Isabel stood boldly at the entrance, clearly waiting for soone.
When Aiwas arrived, she was handling a senior from the club who’d approached her.
The senior, aware of her identity, looked solemn and humble, practically radiating “please don’t hold this against .”
He’d likely lost a draw and was pushed forward by friends.
To Aiwas’s surprise, Isabel’s tone with the stranger was visibly smoother.
Still a bit nervous, she expressed herself clearly, no longer overly polite or shrinking.
She was a bit curt—replying once for every two or three of the senior’s sentences, seeming aloof.
But overall, she was almost normal.
Aiwas let out a soft hiss.
[My talk therapy worked that fast?]
[Social anxiety heals in half a day?]
He recalled her earlier assertiveness and how normal she sounded in private…
The only difference was her brighter mood.
Then it hit him.
[Avalon’s princess isn’t socially anxious—she just lacks social experience and was crushed into withdrawal by pressure!]
No wonder she showed little hatred after Avalon’s fall.
It wasn’t maturity or suppressed emotions…
[She genuinely didn’t want to be a princess!]
*
Update complete!
Promoting a friend’s new book to boost my stats!
Title: I Beca Light in the Marvel Universe
A giant of light who pushes back tsunamis with telekinesis, detonates planets with beams, and travels interstellar at superluminal speeds.
Superman: “He’s an inspiring ideal, a beacon in the darkness.”
Wonder Woman: “He’s an honorable warrior.”
Batman, silent, drafts an “Ultraman Rampage Contingency.”
Steppenwolf (crawling back to Apokolips): “No way, Ultraman’s too strong!”
Shen You: “Don’t listen to them. I’m just an ordinary scientist from the Land of Light, without their power.”
(Chapter End)
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