---Next Day---
Rap, rap, rap!
Hurried knocks rattled my door just as the morning bell chimed eight. The moment the latch slipped free, my three fiancées and Olivia pushed past me into the foyer. Before I could ask what had caused such a stir, several identical sheets of parchment were thrust directly into my face.
“Leon! Look at this, they are cutting the semester short and sending everyone home tomorrow.” Olivia clutched the notice with trembling hands, the dread mounting in her chest laid bare. “This means the war is going to start soon, right? I have to send word to my family to evacuate before it’s too late.”
“To be more accurate, they are cutting the semester short for those of us in the noble class. They expect us to return home and help prepare our territories for the coming conflict.” Angelica placed a reassuring hand on Olivia’s shoulder. “Don’t fret, Olivia, we can send a message to your family through the guild. We can head there after breakfast, okay?”
The gentle reassurance tempered Olivia’s panic. With a quiet sigh of relief, she wrapped her arms around Angelica in a brief hug.
“Tell your family to make for Bartfort Territory. I will have Luxion’s droids pick them up along with my mother and younger siblings.” I offered them a warm smile, stepping toward the kitchen. “I spotted the notice posted during my morning run. Since the academy shuttered the dining hall as well, would you like me to cook something for breakfast?”
Clarice stared toward the fully furnished kitchen in astonishment. “You know how to cook? Huh, well, I’m happy to try your cooking. Nothing with mushrooms, please. It’s not that I’m allergic; I just don’t like the texture of them.”
I turned to the other three for their consensus. Instead of answering out loud, they pulled the barstools from under the butcher-block peninsula and settled into the counter.
“I’m fine with anything.” Olivia peered across the counter, scanning the strange, polished utensils and foreign devices lining the prep area.
Angelica swiveled in her seat, taking in the full layout of the dorm suite. “If you are taking requests, how about something from your travels? I want to sample many otherworldly cuisines.”
Deirdre’s eyes brightened. “Oh! Do you have beverages we can try with breakfast too? Having hot tea and water with every meal is quite… dreary.”
As I set a kettle of water atop the smooth glass range, Clarice took the stool beside Deirdre and joined Angelica in studying the living area. The sleek styling and clean lines differed entirely from high-society noble estates, yet the space possessed a quiet comfort. Far from the rigid, performative grandeur of her family estate, this room held an easy warmth she had rarely known.
“Leon, where are Princess Hertrude, Princess Hertrauda, and Yumeria?” Olivia scanned the area. “Did you put them up in a hotel, or maybe leave them on the airship?”
As if on cue to answer Olivia’s question, Hertrude nudged the bedroom door open with a languid yawn. The drowsy princess offered everyone a faint nod, shuffling toward an open stool with a pillow clutched against her chest.
“Good morning…” Hertrude slumped onto the seat and burrowed her face into the cool linen. “Leon… what manner of sorcery did you use to create such a marvelous bed? I have never slept in such bliss in my life. No matter the cost, please make me bedding and a mattress like yours… please.”
She lifted her head, offering a pleading gaze. Clearly, she wanted that mattress badly enough to swallow every shred of royal pride.
“You really want one, don’t you?” I offered a teasing grin. “Very well, I will make one for you before you return to the Principality of Fanoss. In exchange, all I ask is that you put aside your cold, aloof persona whenever it is just us. Your current look is far more endearing.”
Hertrude ducked back into the pillow, a deep crimson spreading across her cheeks. Fresh from a deep slumber, she had no defenses prepared for casual teasing.
Beside the flushed princess, four pairs of eyes narrowed. Olivia and my three fiancées took in her disheveled sleepwear and ruffled hair, their suspicion mounting by the second. They knew Leon was not the sort to take advantage of an allied royal, yet Hertrude had spent considerable effort closing the distance between them lately.
“Miss Hertrude, a little help, please.” Yumeria shuffled out of Leon’s room, hauling a comforter that enveloped a dead-weight Hertrauda. “I’ve tried to rouse her, but Miss Hertrauda won’t listen to a word I say. Maybe you will have better luck.”
Like her elder sister, Hertrauda wore pink silk and clutched tightly to one of Leon’s spare pillows. Yet that was hardly what seized the room’s undivided attention. The four women froze, their collective focus snapping toward Yumeria. She stood in the sunken living room wearing nothing more than an oversized cotton shirt, the thin, soft fabric clinging loosely across her frame and leaving far too little to the imagination.
Whiiiiiiieeee!
Four heads whipped in my direction, eyes blazing.
“Leon!”
“Angelica, Clarice, Deirdre, Olivia—calm yourselves.” I lifted the whistling kettle and poured steaming water over the coarse grounds waiting in the French press. “First, nothing happened last night. While the three of them used my bed, I slept on the futon.”
I nodded toward the flattened sofa and neatly folded blankets resting in the living room. As their eyes drifted over to the makeshift bed, the glare in the room lost its edge.
“Second, Yumeria only has the clothes on her back. While we are out in town today, can you girls handle buying her some casual outfits and maid uniforms? I am not sending her back to those ungrateful bastards; she can stay and work for me until she decides she wants to do something else.”
“Mr. Aremus is right.” Yumeria set the comforter down on a stool, her face burning red. “I asked to borrow a shirt from him last night because I didn’t want to sleep naked in a guy’s room.”
I slid mugs of fresh coffee across the butcher block toward the girls, setting out cream, sugar, and a tray of warm pastries. Mug in one hand, I flicked a wave of telekinesis with the other. Eggs, butter, thick strips of cured bacon, a loaf of bread, and mixing bowls floated out of the fridge in a smooth arc, settling neatly across the stainless-steel prep island.
“Since you all wanted something from back home, how does bacon, eggs, French toast, and waffles sound?” I took a sip of my coffee, making sure the ingredients were set.
“Mhmm!” Olivia chewed happily on a chocolate bear claw, eyes wide. “Where did you even get these?”
<Leon made them from scratch last night. He planned to share them with his guests, but the three of them passed out on his bed the moment they stepped out of the shower.>
Luxion phased into view over my shoulder.
Hertrude’s head perked right up at the word shower. Wide awake now, she practically bounced in her seat.
“Leon’s bed is great, but you guys have to see the bathroom!” Hertrude leaned across the counter, practically beaming. “Almost everything runs off this glowing glass pad on the wall. You can change the lights, play music from hidden speakers, warm up the towels before you even get out, and set the water to whatever temperature you want. And in the shower stall, there are these little wall jets that massage you with hot water from every angle. It is heaven in there!”
Hooked, Angelica, Clarice, and Deirdre pushed back their stools, ready to see it for themselves. If the place was half as good as Hertrude was making it out to be, none of them were setting foot back in their dorm rooms tonight.
“Well, now I have to look.” Angelica picked up her mug, taking a quick gulp while it was still hot.
The moment the dark brew hit her tongue, she froze. The bold, nutty flavor and deep kick caught her completely off guard. Before she even realized what she was doing, she tipped the mug back, swallowed the rest in two huge gulps, and stared blankly into the empty ceramic.
“Want a refill?” I gave her a smirk as the cast-iron skillet started sizzling on the stove. “It’s called coffee. Back on Ancient Terra, people practically lived on the stuff. There are hundreds of ways to brew it, each with its own kick.”
Angelica nodded in a daze. “Yes, I will take—”
BAM!
The front door rebounded against the entryway wall, the brass handle embedding straight into the plaster. A blur of movement tore through the foyer, resolving a split second later into Lucoa leaning over the counter with a thick parchment folder in her hands. Her eyes remained glued to the skillet and mixing bowls.
“Good morning, everyone!” Lucoa practically hummed, her mouth already beginning to water. “Leon, the Guildmaster gave his blessing to expedite your rank-up exam. I have the paperwork right here for you…”
A thin bead of drool formed at the corner of her lip. The motive behind her sudden assault on my doorway was impossible to mistake.
I retrieved another plate with telekinesis and stacked it onto the pile. “Next time, knock and wait for an answer. If you barge in here like that again, you will never taste my cooking for the rest of your life.”
All color drained from her face. The mere thought of such a future clearly terrified her more than any high-tier dungeon boss.
“Understood! Also… you will probably want two more plates; Roxanne and Yunyun are heading up the stairs right now.” Lucoa offered an embarrassed chuckle. “When I caught the scent of waffle batter from the courtyard, I kind of left them in the dust. Hehe!”
“You are down to a single portion today.”
“No, please do not limit my food! I will go grab both of them right now—just leave my portions alone!”
Slapping the folder onto the butcher block, Lucoa vanished in another burst of speed.
---3rd Person POV---
While Leon’s group enjoyed a lavish breakfast, Marie sat alone in the dim corners of her neglected dormitory room, gnawing on a stale crust of black bread and nursing a dented canteen of lukewarm water. After toiling through low-tier dungeons the entire previous day until her limbs trembled with exhaustion, she had returned hoping to wash off the grime and collapse into bed.
Her uninvited passenger, however, had suffered a complete breakdown the moment they crossed the threshold.
A monstrous, suffocating aura had descended across the campus grounds, driving host and parasite to barricade the door and cobble together an immediate escape plan.
<Listen to me, Marie. We must pull off one last strike before we flee the capital.> The dark entity writhed in the recesses of her mind, its usual arrogance shredded by sheer panic. <I had hoped for more time to prepare, but that presence… against that monster, we stand no chance.>
Marie chewed on the stale bread, her expression sour. “Works for me. I am sick of skulking around in the shadows anyway. Do you actually have a plan?”
<Haha… I was kind of hoping you might have a suggestion. Most of my energy is going into shielding our presence from that beast.>
Marie rolled her eyes in disgust. She was utterly sick of playing lackey to this vile parasite, but options were nonexistent. Exposing him to whatever terror had arrived on campus would only get her slaughtered right alongside him. For now, she had no choice but to keep them both alive.
“Well, if you expect me to cook up a scheme, I need information to work with. Can you keep us hidden if I leave the room and stick to the dorm hallways?” She tore off another stubborn bite of crust.
<Yeah, I can manage that. Have somewhere in mind?>
Her peers had thoroughly ostracized her, leaving the common dormitory bulletin board as her sole remaining source of reliable news.
Setting the half-eaten loaf aside, Marie slipped into the corridor. Doors stood open down the length of the hall, revealing noble girls frantically stuffing luggage trunks with silks and personal effects. Puzzled by the sudden frenzy, she quickened her stride toward the main board.
“This explains it…” Marie snatched the posted parchment from the wood, skimming the royal decree. “The palace is ordering us home to prepare for the coming war. What a load of shit. What are a bunch of students supposed to do in an actual war?”
<Wait… look further down. The academy is hosting a farewell ball for the departing students tonight. The royal family, several cabinet ministers, and every high-ranking noble in the city will attend. This is our opening!> The dark entity hummed with sudden malice. <My original curse lacks the necessary reagents, so we will brew something else. We still have options.>
Casting a furtive glance down the hall to ensure no one was watching, Marie crumpled the notice into her pocket and hurried back toward her quarters. Until the ball commenced tonight, she would focus on two things: making herself presentable and brewing a lethal dose.
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