[ 11th Lumiran 1749 | Eltar | 21:15 | Dormitory Room 313 ]

  An uncharacteristic tranquility reigned in Room 313. Isolde Veyne, Reina’s roommate, had not yet returned from visiting her friends, granting the red-haired girl a rare window of opportunity to finish the project she had been toiling over for an entire Veytra.

  The silver needle took one final, nimble dive into the thick crimson silk that shimmered under the lamplight. Reina exhaled in deep satisfaction and neatly bit off the thread.

  The work was complete. With a pleased sigh, she smoothed the long, elegant ribbon of expensive silk across her lap. Reina had carved out every spare moment her bothersome roommate was absent to finish this masterpiece. It had everything: Nova’s initials; runic engravings—useless, perhaps, but beautiful, symbolizing protection from the darkness; the sharp-petaled Ilveit flowers that grew exclusively in the Anix Empire; and, of course, embroidered on the reverse side, the phrase that served as Nova's personal creed: “Every moment holds its own value; one must never forget who they are.”

  Reina ran her fingertips over the cool, smooth silk, a dreamy, tender smile playing on her lips. Today was the birthday of the girl for whom she was ready to do anything. She was utterly certain her beloved would appreciate the gift—a sword knot for her rapier.

  To Reina, it wasn’t merely a gift; it was the ultimate symbol of the bond between a loving lady and her noble knight, a trope celebrated in countless novels.

  Reina let out a heavy sigh and stroked the ribbon once more.

  Without a doubt, according to all the laws of the genre, this evening was supposed to belong to them. They were meant to spend it in the most romantic setting imaginable—perhaps stealing away to the green labyrinth in defiance of curfew, or huddled together beneath a warm blanket in the greenhouse, bathed in moonlight.

  Yet reality offered her not even the slightest chance to press herself against Nova, to breathe in the sweet scent of her skin or feel the warmth of her lips. Reina knew perfectly well that one of the pivotal events of the book The Heroine Who Saved the Kingdom was currently unfolding in Sumerenn. But her own heart beat in a restless, anxious rhythm, for Nova hadn’t just traveled with Evelina; she had gone with that... insufferable, cold statue named Artalis.

  At the thought of Arta, Reina scowled slightly and laid the ribbon on the desk. That girl broke everything. She had trespassed into the narrative uninvited, stealing Nova’s rightful place as the guardian mage. And now, there was a terrible risk she would break yet another plotline, utterly destroying Nova's character arc and reducing her to Evelina’s silent cousin, forever relegated to a supporting role in a rapidly accelerating script.

  No matter. That 'editor' will dance to my tune yet. Very soon, Eloisa will play her assigned role, and that block of ice will lose her foundation.

  Reina shook her head, trying to banish all thoughts of Artalis. Closing her eyes, she conjured an image of Nova. In her fantasies, Nova stood upon a high balcony of Dvulkiy Castle, gazing out over the nocturnal city, finding solace in the thought that here, back at the academy, Reina was waiting for her.

  Reina inhaled deeply, imagining the heavy burden Nova must be bearing in Sumerenn right now, as Frederick's political intrigues were destined to enter their most violent phase. Acknowledging this, Reina rested her hands on the table and stared at her palms.

  What a pity I am not there by her side. I would remind her what true feelings mean.

  She sighed once more, as if hoping each breath would grant her more strength. Then, she meticulously rolled the sword knot and lowered it gently into a velvet box she had prepared in advance.

  Reina carefully closed the lid and whispered into the quiet room, "Happy birthday, my beloved knight. I am waiting for you..."

  Keeping her hand resting upon the box, Reina turned toward the window and smiled softly at her own reflection. Everything was ready for Nova's return. What that return would actually bring, however, Reina could not yet know.

  『 ?? 』━━━???━━━『 ? 』

  [ 14th Lumiran 1749 | Keyris | 08:40 | The Academy's Eastern Gates ]

  The carriage ground to a halt near the academy’s eastern gates with a heavy, protesting creak. A second later, the coachman threw open the door, allowing the crisp morning air to flood the stifling confines of the cabin.

  Nova looked at Artalis, who sat on the opposite bench. Her wounded shoulder was still bleeding; the crimson stain had seeped through both her bandages and her uniform.

  Nova swallowed hard. "Do you need help?" she asked hesitantly, as Arta was sitting closest to the exit.

  "No need." Arta shook her head. In the next breath, she stood and stepped nimbly out of the carriage, completely ignoring the coachman’s offered hand.

  Nova was about to follow her when her cousin's exhausted voice stopped her dead. "Nova. Take the blade."

  Nova immediately snapped her head toward Evelina, who was staring blankly out the window on the opposite door.

  Knowing better than to argue, Nova reached for the desecrated blade. Wrapped in dark fabric, it rested against the back of the seat like some cursed, priceless artifact. Only once it was secure in her grasp did she descend, accepting the coachman's hand.

  "Thank you," she offered him a slight bow of her head, then turned her attention back to Artalis. "Arta... I think that's enough for today. You should rest..."

  Nova wanted to say more, but from the corner of her eye, she saw Evelina emerging from the carriage. Instinctively, she stepped forward and offered the princess her hand.

  Evelina took it, her boots soon meeting solid ground. Without a word of thanks, she turned sharply and marched toward the academy. Nova had no choice but to follow, leaving Artalis standing alone by the eastern gates.

  Before turning away completely, Nova met Arta’s deep purple eyes. They spoke to her in absolute silence: Go with the princess. This is far more important.

  The walk into the academy passed in suffocating silence. The morning bustle of students hurrying to their classes only deepened the heavy gloom pressing down on Nova. All these mundane academy lectures suddenly felt impossibly distant, a trivial speck against the vastness of what she had just endured.

  Nova only allowed herself to exhale when she spotted Arkina, the royal guard, standing in stoic silence beside Evelina’s chambers, faithfully keeping her post even in the princess's absence.

  Spotting the princess, Arkina saluted sharply, drew her keys, and unlocked the heavy oak doors, ushering Evelina and Nova inside.

  Evelina strode in first, with Nova trailing obediently behind. The moment they crossed the threshold, the massive doors groaned shut behind them, severing them entirely from the serene, ignorant corridors of the academy dormitory.

  Nova took a few hesitant steps toward the desk where Evelina usually worked. She set down the desecrated blade, still swathed in the fabric of the very same black dress Nova had worn to celebrate her birthday just nights ago.

  Evelina approached the desk and collapsed into a plush, velvet-upholstered armchair. Her face bore a profound, hollow exhaustion that Nova had rarely, if ever, seen.

  "You know, Nova... this piece of metal is the only tangible memory I have left of the moment my heart nearly ended up on the altar of the damn Gods of Dreams!"

  Evelina jerked violently. She snatched a silver goblet from the desk and hurled it at the wall with all her might. It struck with a deafening clatter, leaving a shallow dent in the plaster before spinning out across the floor.

  Nova flinched violently at the sound. She wanted to step closer to Evelina, to offer comfort, but her own hands were trembling like those of a terrified child.

  Evelina drew long, ragged breaths. Eventually, she rested her hand on the desk and began to drum her fingers against the wood. After a few minutes of that relentless rhythm—which felt like an eternity to Nova—she reached out and picked up the blade.

  Nova stared at her cousin in sheer bewilderment. "Aren't you afraid to hold it... after everything that happened?" she asked in a hushed voice.

  "Afraid? What is there to fear in this piece of iron? It drains Order magic from Artalis. I possess no such magic. To me, it is nothing more than a blade with a poorly sharpened edge." Evelina narrowed her eyes in utter disdain.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  The terror rapidly evaporated from the princess's face. She began to idly turn the dagger over in her hands. Slowly, the corners of her lips curled upward, contorting into a sinister smile that sent a parade of cold shivers crawling down Nova’s spine.

  "Artalis was right," Evelina whispered, her gaze locked on the metal. "This isn't just a dagger. This is material that must be meticulously studied."

  "And how is that going to help us against a monster like the one we saw at the Lenford mansion?" Nova pressed, still entirely lost as to what her cousin was scheming.

  Evelina shook her head, clearly disappointed that Nova couldn't read her mind. "That doesn't matter. What matters is that I have an idea. And I'm going to discuss it with the Ice Snake."

  "With her..?" Nova breathed.

  "Yes, with her. And do not make me explain why." Evelina set the blade back upon the black fabric with a lingering smile.

  She straightened up in her chair. Every trace of her earlier weakness seemed to have vanished, her boiling fear entirely eclipsed by a surge of cold self-assurance. Soon, her sharp gaze fell upon Nova once more.

  "The Lenfords are dead," Evelina stated drily, slamming the door on the previous topic. "You must go and tell your roommate, Beatrice. And you must do it before the rumors begin to slither through the academy. You were there. It is your duty," she finished, her tone absolute ice.

  A suffocating wave of panic rose in Nova’s chest. To walk into their shared room. To watch a girl's entire world collapse before her very eyes. To know that she, one of the finest students in the academy, had been utterly powerless to stop it. For Nova, this wasn't just delivering a report; it was pronouncing a verdict on her own pathetic helplessness.

  I won't be able to bear her screaming, the icy realization flashed through Nova's mind.

  She took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing the consuming panic deep down into her gut, and donned the only mask that could save her now—the mask of a cold aristocrat.

  "Not now, Evelina," Nova said coldly. "You need support right now. My duty is to remain here with you, at least until we know the threat from the Gods of Dreams has passed."

  Evelina raised her gaze skeptically, looking straight into Nova’s eyes. She understood perfectly well what hid beneath those words. Yet, it was merely a trivial detail compared to the grand designs already taking shape in her mind.

  "Fine," Evelina nodded slowly. "Stay. Perhaps your assistance will indeed be useful. However, remember this: tomorrow morning, you must report everything to Beatrice."

  "Understood," Nova nodded, the response almost mechanical.

  Only then did she realize that the delay granted her no true relief. Tomorrow morning, she would still have to walk through that door and obliterate Beatrice's life.

  『 ?? 』━━━???━━━『 ? 』

  [ 15th Lumiran 1749 | Talven | 09:15 | Second-Floor Corridor ]

  The morning light spilling through the academy's arched windows felt entirely too bright to Nova; it was almost physically painful. She stood in the corridor, her back pressed flat against the heavy oak door of Room 225. Behind her, muffled only slightly by the thick wood, came the agonizing, hysterical, tearing sobs of Beatrice.

  Nova closed her eyes and tilted her head back, struggling to draw a full breath. It was infinitely harder than she had anticipated. Beatrice wasn't just weeping from the raw grief of loss—there was something elusive, yet painfully familiar in her reaction, something Nova couldn't quite place.

  Her hands had begun to tremble again. She hid the vulnerable betrayal of her body by crossing her arms tightly over her chest, trying to detach herself, to find some semblance of calm now that the most terrifying task was done.

  But the moment Nova allowed herself a fraction of a second to relax, a familiar, ringing voice echoed down the hall.

  "Nova!"

  Nova snapped her eyes open. Gliding down the corridor toward her was Reina. Her fiery red hair was styled to absolute perfection, and playing upon her lips was that same tender, adoring smile Nova was so accustomed to seeing when they were alone. In her hands, Reina delicately cradled a small velvet box.

  The sheer contrast between this radiant, fairytale vision and the bloody hellscape Nova had clawed her way out of just days ago was so violently jarring it made her head spin.

  "Happy birthday, my knight," Reina murmured, stepping intimately close. She gazed softly into Nova's hollow, extinguished eyes and drew the silver-embroidered crimson sword knot from the velvet box. "I know how hard things are for you right now... But... you mustn't blame yourself. Tie this silk to your rapier. Let it protect you in the coming war."

  Nova slowly shifted her gaze from the shimmering ribbon to Reina's face.

  "War? What are you talking about, Reina?" Nova's voice cracked like shattering ice. Her eyes were wide with utter bewilderment at the absurdity of the words.

  Reina’s smile faltered, slowly sliding off her face. The fingers gripping the velvet box went rigid. She shot a fast, sharp look at the closed door of Room 225, from behind which Beatrice’s hysterical wailing continued unabated, and then snapped her gaze back to Nova.

  "Wait!" Reina demanded, her voice echoing in the hall. The tone had shifted imperceptibly, shedding all its theatrical softness. "Then what happened?! Why is Beatrice crying?!"

  "Because her parents were murdered, Ren!" Nova hissed, her voice tearing at the seams.

  "What?!" Reina gaped, her eyes bulging. "But that wasn't supposed to happen! That's wrong..."

  Reina’s words sent a visceral chill ripping through Nova.

  "Reina, I don't even understand how it happened myself! It was night, I was in an evening gown, and then... then a woman appeared, who twisted into this nightmarish monstrosity with a massive wolf's head, and the entire house turned into pulsating meat!" Nova ground her teeth together. "I tried to do something! But that thing didn't care!"

  Reina listened intently, and a creeping panic began to bleed into her expression. It was as if she were desperately trying to align Nova's words with her own internal compass, only to find no matching coordinates. The panic swelled, consuming her, and her fingers clamped down brutally hard on the sword knot she had meant to gift.

  "This wasn't supposed to happen!" Reina said, her voice quiet but laced with a menacing clarity. "It's all because of her. Because of that foreigner from Tarvar! She ruined everything again!"

  Reina stepped almost flush against Nova, a ringing, uncontrollable malice tearing through her voice. "If it weren't for that girl, none of this would have happened! She attracts chaos! She destroyed everything that was meant to be! She dragged you into this pointless filth! We need to get rid of her!"

  "Shut your mouth, Ren," Nova cut her off in a freezing whisper. Something imperceptible flashed in her storm-gray eyes—something aimed straight into the darkest depths of Reina's soul. "That 'girl' is the reason we didn't all die. She killed the assassin and held off the monster!"

  "And she emerged completely unscathed, of course, right?" Reina pressed with venomous sarcasm.

  The sheer ignorance of the words flooded Nova's mind with blind fury.

  "What do you mean, unscathed?! Do you think this is a fairy tale?! She was wounded by a weapon of dreams!" Nova practically snarled.

  Reina froze. A heavy, suffocating pause hung in the air between them. Reina stared at Nova, at her stubbornly clenched jaw, at the dead, cold light in her eyes. And beneath that gaze, Reina's ironclad internal certainty finally cracked.

  "Oh, I see! So you don't think that emotionless block of ice is to blame for any of this?!" Reina cried out. "You just don't understand: if she wasn't here, there wouldn't be any problems! You would be the guardian mage, and this absolute madness would never have happened!"

  "Arta earned the position of guardian mage fairly. Stop spouting nonsense as if you know the future—you are not a prophetess, Ren!"

  The words struck Reina with the force of an open wound.

  "So, that's how you speak to me now. And you think this is normal, do you? Are you really choosing her truth? Has that emotionless block of ice become more precious to you than us? Than me?" Reina narrowed her eyes, as if hoping the gesture might lend some desperate weight to her ultimatum.

  Nova didn't look away. She merely cast a fleeting, sweeping glance over Reina's silhouette, over her immaculate hairstyle, and finally dropped her eyes to the beautiful, silver-embroidered scrap of silk—a pretty trinket that wouldn't have been able to save a single soul that night.

  "Yes, Ren," Nova answered quietly. There was no anger left in her voice, only an infinite, incurable exhaustion. "Because Arta, unlike you, understands the true price of things. And the price of lives."

  Nova turned her head away, physically and mentally severing herself from Reina and her cozy, delusional world where the actions of a single person were supposedly the root of such catastrophic, fundamental horrors. Then, Nova snapped her head back to face her one last time.

  "Do you want to keep playing in your beautiful fairy tales?" Cruel, metallic notes bled into Nova's voice. "Play. But without me. I refuse to indulge your delusions any longer. We are done. I have no time for your illusions right now; Evelina needs me."

  Nova pushed away from the door and strode down the corridor toward the stairs without looking back.

  The crimson silk remained crushed in Reina's white-knuckled grip. She had just been dumped. Struck from the narrative. Left entirely alone in an empty corridor, while behind the heavy oak door, Beatrice continued to sob, having violently realized that the world was infinitely darker and more complex than anything written in books.

  『 ?? 』━━━???━━━『 ? 』

  [ 15th Lumiran 1749 | Talven | 09:45 | The Academy's Outer Park ]

  Reina sat on a bench near the academy's green labyrinth. Resting on her lap was the crimson sword knot; it had lost its perfectly smooth form, reduced to nothing more than a crumpled, careless ribbon of silk.

  She sat completely motionless, staring blankly at a single point in space. But within her mind, a searing, white-hot hatred for one specific girl was already roaring to life.

  Cursed editor, you constantly ruin all my plots! Why is it that every single time I try to repair this fragile narrative, you relentlessly kick another brick out from the foundation?!

  Reina knew exactly what was supposed to have happened in Sumerenn. Queen Margaret was supposed to die. The Prince was supposed to be freed. Nova was supposed to fail against the conspirators, lose everything, and return to the academy bearing a crushing burden of guilt, only to be forged in the fires of the impending civil war and emerge a true hero. Her tragedy had a profound meaning. Her pain served a grand, majestic purpose. And she, Reina, was meant to be right there by her side, walking that arduous path together.

  Why and how had Arta broken everything? Why had the Gods of Dreams suddenly intervened? All of it triggered uncontrollable spasms of pure fury within Reina. The very canon of The Heroine Who Saved the Kingdom was hanging by a thread. Arta had robbed Nova of her correct, exalted tragedy, slipping her a filthy, senseless nightmare in its place. And now everything was in ruins. Nova had been reduced to nothing more than a glorified nanny for a terrified princess...

  Reina tightened her grip on the ribbon. Her gaze drifted across the stone pathways, eventually landing on a bench in the distance where Eloisa Garci sat alone. The first-year student she had originally intended to use merely as a pawn to flick Catherine on the nose and rewrite the jilted bride's pathetic efforts to her own liking.

  But now, staring at Eloisa—who, over these past weeks, had already been thoroughly marinated in literary ideals of pure, feminine love—Reina froze. A delighted, wicked smile slowly stretched across her lips. The puzzle in her mind had finally clicked into perfect alignment.

  You need a stage for a heroic deed to become a knight again, Nova? Reina thought, slowly rising from the bench, her eyes locked on Eloisa, who was already the perfect, primed pawn. You want someone to save? I will create that heroic deed for you. One that is absolutely safe, entirely comprehensible, and completely under my control.

  Reina squared her shoulders. Her backup plan had just evolved into a flawlessly calibrated weapon—one that only required a little more preparation before it was unleashed.

  Arbiter Visions installment, feel free to leave a comment with the character’s POV and the time period you’re interested in.