{ 1 MONTH LATER… }

  "And that's how…" Vi cluded, slowly closing the hefty tome of philosophy. The book's gilded edge caught and reflected the sunlight, giving the moment an almost solemn aura. "…even the smallest gesture ge destiny. Like a pebble thrown into a pond, the ripples spread far, and the sequences be uable."

  The dull sound of the book closing marked the end of the lesson.

  Sihe young Prince had begun his private lessons with Vi, the schedule of subjects had been reanized several times over the year.

  The ges, however, were never random.

  The curriculum was meticulously desigo keep the Priivated and stimute his curiosity, avoiding the monotony of repetitive weeks.

  Every variation was carefully orchestrated uhe directives of King Arthur, who occasionally intervened personally to decide which subjects to reduce, deepen, or even elimiirely, ensuring the Prince acquired the knowledge deemed essential for a future sn.

  Thus, some disciplines had been reduced to one or two lessons per week, while the order of subjects had been rearranged han three times so far.

  And that is why, on that particur day, Philosophy—which was usually scheduled for Tuesday ms—had been moved to the st hour, repg the two-hour slot usually reserved for tial Language.

  Muirac's relief, King Arthur had also retly decided to reduce the weekly hours of Math from four to three!

  For him, who detested the subject, this was a moal victory!

  The annou had felt like an ued gift, and every time he g the new schedule, he couldn't help but smile with satisfa.

  That schedule, however, now y closed on the edge of the desk, o the quill Mirac was using to carefully transcribe the final notes from the chalkboard.

  The chalk, whily moments earlier had screeched against the rough surface, seemed to still echo in his mind as his eyes followed the simple diagrams illustrating the principle of a aion.

  Having fihe transcription, he carefully pced his quill down and sighed—a breath that carried a subtle, almost adult u wasn't the fatigue from the lesson weighing on him, but something deeper, a tension that shook him ceaselessly from within.

  "It's already been a year since we met, Professor Shirkenn…" Mirac began, his tone grave, devoid of his usual lightheartedness.

  Vi, notoriously awkward, flinched. He scratched his neervously with a clumsy smile, the typical gesture of someone caught off guard. Miraew that rea all too well, now an integral part of their daily routine.

  "Oh, you're right, young Prince," Vi replied, letting out a nervous chuckle. "It feels like only yesterday we had our first lesson. Heh, wow! How fast time fli-!"

  "For how much longer do you io tinue like this?" Miraterrupted, his tone decisive and his gaze unwavering.

  Vi froze, disoriented by the young Prince's ued firmness.

  "C-tinue like this? What do you mean, young Prince?" Vi stammered, trying to maintain an appearance of trol.

  Beads of sweat, however, already dotted his forehead as the overwhelmiion of being exposed engulfed him. A part of him feared that everything was about to colpse.

  "You kly what I mean…" Mirac retorted, calmly rising from his chair. His movements were slow, yet they carried a fidenusual for a child of his age.

  He approached the desk, his eyes locked onto Vi's.

  "I'm sorry to say this, but I've already spoken to my mother," the young Prince tinued, his tone calm but firm. "Of course, I wish I hadn't had to, but I had no other choice. I needed an outside perspective to figure out what to do..."

  Vi seemed frozen, as if the desk in front of him was the only shelter from an impending storm. He swallowed loudly, his arms stiff as though an entment had stripped him of trol. The only movement he managed was loosening his tie slightly, perhaps to breathe more easily.

  "I-I still don't uand, young Prince…" he murmured, but his trembling voice betrayed his growing unease.

  "For all this time, I've pretended not to know anything," Miratiaking aep forward. "No offense, but every time I watched you—during lessons, at lunch, in the hallways—I couldn't help but think you were really a terrible actor!"

  Mirac's voice was calm, but the weight of his words hit Vi like a ton of bricks.

  "I waited for months for you to make the decisive move. Of course, it's not really my business, but… I 't keep ign this situation! You've left me no choice but to force you to reveal your own hand…"

  Vi was visibly unfortable. He tried to respond, but the words caught in his throat. Instinctively, his hands went to the knot of his tie, loosening it.

  "Young Prince…" he finally stammered, his voice crag uhe tension of the moment.

  "Professor Shirkenn…" Miraterrupted, not raising his voice, but with a resolutehat silenced any attempt at a reply.

  The silehat followed was heavy with tension, a moment where the world seemed to hold its breath. Mirac's eyes were fixed on Vi's, as though daring him to say something—anything!

  "You…" the Prince finally begaing a moment of pause amplify the weight of his words, "…are ied in Carmen, aren't you?"

  After that question, the silen the room became so de felt almost tangible. The only sound was the rhythmic tig of the clock: tick-tick-tick, marking the charged anticipation.

  Vi remained rooted in pce, uo form a response. His face, usually awkward and benign, twisted into an expression of pure embarrassment. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out—not even a stammer.

  Mirac did not avert his gaze. His eyes, sharp as bdes, pierced through Vi's feeble defenses without hesitation.

  Oher side of the desk, Vi swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously as he lowered his gaze to escape the oppressive iy. His hands, csped tightly together, trembled visibly.

  "Y-Young Prince…" Vi stammered, his voice hoarse and g vi. "I… I don't know what you're talking about…"

  Mirac didn't move. His body was still, his posture calm and rexed, but his gaze allowed no escape. He waited, with a patiehat seemed endless, for a more sincere response.

  "Carmen… is a respectable person, of course…" Vi tinued, his words fragmented and den with nervousness. "But I… I don't… I mean… I don't io…"

  As he stammered, his tie, now almost pletely undone, hung awkwardly around his neck.

  Mirac let a few seds pass before responding. After a long sigh, he broke the silence:

  "Then why do you tremble every time she's near? Why do you stutter when you talk to her in the hallways? And, above all, why do you ask her for coffee every day, when you never actually drink it?"

  His words were apanied by his finger pointing towards the desk. There, a cup of coffee, untouched and now cold, sat abandoned, like incriminating evidence. A detail that did not go unnoticed.

  Finally, retrag the hand with which he had poio the cup, he added:

  "It's been obvious for too long, Professor Shirkenn. I don't want to cause you ay, but I don't believe I'm the only o the castle who has noticed your i in Carmen."

  Vi appeared to have no way out now.

  He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, uain how to respond. But the truth was clear, and it was evident that Mirac would not accept lies.

  "Alright!" Vi finally excimed, as if he had just gathered the ce to drop the mask. "Yes, it's true, young Prince! I admit it… I like her! I like her a lot!"

  His hands opened in a gesture of surrender, and the relief mixed with resignation was clear in his voice.

  "But please, don't tell her anything! She… she doesn't know, and she absolutely mustn't find out! It would be too embarrassing for me to bear..."

  Mirac took a step closer, leaning slightly forward, his hands csped behind his back.

  "I'm sorry to tell you this, Professor Shirkenn…" said the Prince, his voice calm but authoritative. Theraightened, returning to a more solemn posture. "But knowing her, I think she's already noticed by now."

  Vi's eyes widened in surprise.

  "Oh, is that so? Well, actually… I think so too…"

  He bit his lip, his eyes still fixed on the floor, while his nervous fingers drummed against the edge of the desk, as if searg for something to distract him.

  Mirac, maintaining his posure, tinued:

  "Don't worry, Professor Shirkenn. I haven't said anything to her, nor do I io, of course. It wouldn't be right towards you. But I think, sooner or ter, you'll o do something about it. You 't go on like this forever. After all, you've already hidden it for a whole year, right? Don't you think it's time to act?"

  Vi nodded hesitantly.

  "Exactly, young Pri was exactly a year ago. Since she helped me fix my shirt colr, the first time we met, I've practically lost my mind! A, even today, I'm not sure I do anything about it…"

  Vi fihe sentence, again l his gaze. His hunched and fragile posture betrayed an intense vulnerability.

  Mirac slightly shook his head, with a serious yet sympathetic expression.

  "I uand how you feel..." the young Prince said, his voice measured. "But I repeat, you 't keep going on like this! I mean, when did you pn on telling her, exactly?"

  The words struck Vi like an arrow. He turned his eyes away again, staring for a while at the ndscape outside the window, as if he could find the answer he was looking for there.

  "I-I don't know..." he finally admitted, his tone broken by a deep insecurity. "I... I'm not good enough for her, young Prince. She's... beautiful, brilliant... amazing! And me? I'm not even... not eveable!"

  His voice cracked again, and those words seemed to weigh on him like a burden carried for far too long.

  Mirac remained silent, letting the weight of that fession fill the room.

  'It's just like my mother said!' he thought, a jolt of realization running through him.

  Vi's words echoed in his mind, sparking fresh memories from a month ago.

  After dinner on the first of March, in fact, Mirac had discussed this situation with his mother, seeking her advice.

  "He's probably thinking he's not good enough," his mother had expio him, with that ge firm tone she reserved for the most important truths. "I think he's scared. Scared of not measuring up. But maybe, my son, you could help him find the ce he needs."

  Following his mother's advice, Mirac had promised to wait until the first of April, exactly one year after meeting Vi.

  In the meantime, Mirac had hoped that Vi would take the initiative, without him needing to get personally involved in this matter.

  And sihat hadn't happened, he felt it was time to intervene!

  To help this man overe his insecurities...

  To resolve his love troubles...

  After all, for Mirac, there was no obstacle that could stop him when it came to extending a hand to someone...

  Especially a friend!

  "Again, I imagine how you feel..." Miraally said, his voice softer, almost soling. "But there's something far scarier thaion."

  With his eyes slightly widening, Vi quickly shifted his gaze back to the young Prince.

  "Oh, r-really?" the man asked, his tone filled with curiosity and apprehension. "A-And what could be more frightening than that?"

  Mirac stared at him carefully, with a wisdom far beyond his years.

  When he spoke, each word seemed carved in stone, unwavering:

  "Regret for not even trying, Professor Shirkenn!"

  Vi froze.

  Those words, simple yet incredibly powerful, struck him with an iy that surpassed any experience he had known up until that point.

  "R-Regret?" he repeated quietly, almost fearful to utter the word, as if just invoking it carried a weight he had ruly sidered.

  "Exactly. Maybe you've never really thought about it, or maybe you have, but I assure you, when you e to the edge of life, regret eats away at you more than old age ever could! So my suggestion is not to wait until it's too te to act! Life doesn't wait for anyone, and no one go back to ge what's been done."

  Vi remained absorbed, lost in his thoughts. Those words seemed to fill him with a strange energy, and his body straightened slightly, though a shadow of hesitation still hung over him.

  "Maybe... maybe you're right, young Prince. Maybe I should give it a try! But..."

  Mirac stiffened, his face turning serious in an instant, and interrupted him before the sentence could finish.

  "No 'buts', Professor Shirkenn," he insisted, his voice firm and resolute. "Just try! Don't n yourself to live with the burden of what you didn't have the ce to do."

  And besides this, a thought resurfaced in Mirac's mind, one of those he could not afford to speak aloud, but one he so much wished he could say:

  'Don't make the same mistake I made in my previous life!...'

  In plete silence, Vi stared at the wooden desk, his arms crossed and his brows furrowed in an expression of deep introspe.

  His hands, gripping the sleeves of his shirt tightly, trembled slightly, while his eyes wandered uainly, suspended between doubt and the fear of choosing.

  'What should I do?' he kept thinking, scratg his head, frustrated by the uainty of what to choose: whether to reveal his secret or not.

  Mirac also took a moment, crossing his arms over his chest as Vi had done, and refleg carefully before speaking again:

  "Carmen is a person who values siy a lot. After a year spent here at the castle, you should know that by now. That being said, Professor Shirkenn, I won't insist any further. After all, the decision of what to do is entirely up to you. My words were merely suggestions and advice, which you are perfectly free to disregard if you wish. I certainly won't hold it against you. But please, sider what I've said! Don't be afraid of failing or beied! Because, in the end, what will truly matter is the ce to have at least tried! Right?"

  Mirac took a step back, then turned, slowly moving away from the desk.

  As he returo his desk to gather his things from the drawers, his words seemed to still vibrate in the air, like an epossible to ignore.

  For a couple of seds, they remained resonating in Vi's mind, like waves crashing on the shore.

  He barely nodded, almost imperceptibly, as if that small, tinuous gesture could help him ahe thoughts he was struggling to grasp.

  And soon after, surprisingly, a subtle smile began to appear on his face, likely born from a timid but growiermination.

  His hands, previously rigid and trembling, began to rex.

  His breath, which had been shaky just moments ago, steadied, as though he were releasing a pressure that had held him captive for far too long.

  With an absent-minded gesture, he scratched the back of his neck, letting his usual awkwardness fall away.

  His eyes, uain until just a few moments earlier, lifted to meet Mirac's. They now gleamed with a newfound, quiet determination.

  The smile, timid but genuine, dominated his lips with vigor, like the first ray of sunlight after a long night.

  It wasn't the smile of someone who had all the answers, but of someone who had finally chosen to stop running.

  "You… young Prince… speak like a man far wiser than ye."

  Mirac blinked, slightly startled by what was likely meant to be a pliment.

  'Oh, e on!' he thought. 'Why does everyone keep saying that? Am I really that bad at pying the part of a child?!'

  A flicker of hesitation crossed his face before a nervous smile softe.

  "Ah, is that so? Well, I hear that a lot…" he replied with a sheepish chuckle, averting his gaze in an attempt to hide his sudden vulnerability.

  Unaware of it all, Viook a deep breath.

  "So… I o be braver, huh?" he said at st, his voice a bit lighter, as if trying to vince himself of what he had just said.

  Mirac responded with a small smile, an expression of quiet satisfa that heless cealed the pride he felt at seeing Vi begin to move past his doubts.

  Then, as if jolted by a suddeermination, Vi smmed his hands onto the desk and straightened abruptly.

  "All right, I've decided!" he excimed, his voice alive with newfound energy. "No more waiting! After aire year, it's time to put ao this charade! This Sunday… yes, this Sunday, I'll fess to Carmen! It's do or die, right?!"

  The ughter that followed was nervous, almost embarrassed, but it was lit by ahusiasm he had never shown before. His face glowed with a mixture of budding ce and lingering fear, as if he was already sed-guessing his decision.

  Then, with a solemure, Vi bowed deeply, his heart pounding so hard it seemed audible in the room.

  "Thank you, young Prince!" he said, his voice filled with heartfelt gratitude.

  Mirac shook his head slightly, a kind smile on his face.

  "There's o thank me, Professor Shirkenn," he replied simply, waving a hand to motion him to rise. "Just know that if you need any help, you always t on me!"

  As Vi straightened, he looked at the young Prih eyes full of hope.

  "R-Really? Well, it's good to hear you say that!"

  Then, with a shy but warm ugh, he added, almost hesitantly:

  "If that's the case… could you help me with some preparations?"