The night wore on as musicians played softer melodies, signaling the party's gradual conclusion. Vel watched guests beginning to take their leave, offering elaborate farewells to Lady Halen. His mind remained occupied with the merchants' proposition and Lady Halen's insistence that he stay the night.
Nema approached their table again, this time with a leather portfolio tucked under his arm.
"Before I leave you for the evening... I'd like to clarify a few details about the scholarship arrangements," Nema said, his voice carrying the practiced smoothness of a seasoned negotiator. He adjusted the leather portfolio under his arm with deliberate care. "Lady Halen has generously arranged for the initial sponsorship, but my partner and I will manage the practical aspects moving forward."
Vel's eyebrows rose slightly. "Practical aspects?"
"The monthly stipend transfers, communication with Academy administration, any additional expenses that might arise." Nema's fingers tapped the portfolio rhythmically. "All contingent upon passing the entrance examination, of course."
The pieces clicked into place. Lady Halen was offloading the responsibility while maintaining the appearance of benefactor. Clever.
"I see," Vel replied, carefully neutral. "Thank you for the clarification."
"I wish you a pleasant night," Nema added with a slight bow. "And the best of luck with your entrance examinations. I look forward to our future association."
As the hall emptied further, Lady Halen gathered Von, Mari, Celia, and Vel near the grand staircase. Her eyes sparkled with satisfaction as she surveyed her remaining guests.
"Before you all retire for the evening, I've arranged a special treat for our guests of honor," she announced. "The manor's hot baths have been prepared with aromatic oils from the eastern provinces. A luxury rarely available outside the capital."
Celia's eyes widened at the mention of hot baths. Even Vel couldn't deny the appeal after months of cold water basins and quick washes.
"Of course, I've had rooms prepared for all of you," Lady Halen continued, gesturing expansively. "No need to journey home at this late hour."
Mari exchanged a quick glance with Von before speaking. "Your generosity is appreciated, Lady Halen, but Von and I must return for Lyra. Miss Oltan only agreed to watch her until midnight."
Von nodded in agreement. "The carriage can return for Vel and Celia tomorrow."
Lady Halen's smile didn't falter. "As you wish. The children, at least, should enjoy the comforts offered. It's not every day one has access to such luxuries before Academy life begins."
Vel caught Celia's eye across the small space between them. The flicker of uncertainty in her expression mirrored his own thoughts. Lady Halen's generosity had been substantial—the scholarship, the party, and now this lavish accommodation. Each gift, however, felt like another strand in an invisible web being woven around them.
"We would be honored," Vel replied with practiced politeness, though his mind raced with calculations. The more they accepted from Lady Halen, the deeper their obligation would grow. Debts in this world, he knew, were rarely simple transactions. They came with expectations, unspoken demands, and political leverage.
As Lady Halen instructed a servant to show Von and Mari out, Vel leaned closer to Celia.
"You don't have to stay," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the distant music. "If you want to go back with my parents, you should. I can handle whatever Halen is planning."
Celia's eyes widened slightly. "Are you sure? I don't want to leave you alone here."
"Better just one of us in her debt than both," Vel murmured, watching Lady Halen's back as she spoke with his parents. "Besides, I'm curious what game she's playing."
Celia hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. "I don't like the idea of you facing this alone."
"Don't worry about me," Vel told her, sounding surer than he actually was. "If she's seeking information, I can handle it. You need adequate sleep before we travel tomorrow. Especially with the kids from the orphanage"
Von and Mari approached to say their goodbyes, unaware of the whispered exchange. Mari embraced Vel, her familiar scent momentarily grounding him.
"Be careful," she whispered, too softly for others to hear. Her maternal instinct had clearly sensed something amiss in the arrangement.
Lady Halen's expression remained perfectly composed as Celia politely declined her offer to stay.
"I should return with Von and Mari," Celia explained with a slight bow. "Thank you for your generosity, but I still need to prepare my things at the orphanage before our departure."
"Of course, dear," Lady Halen replied, her smile unwavering. If she felt any disappointment at Celia's refusal, she concealed it masterfully. "Another time, perhaps."
Von and Mari nodded their farewells, Celia casted Vel one last concerned glance before following them to the waiting carriage. Vel watched them leave, a strange hollowness forming in his chest as the carriage disappeared down the lantern-lit path.
That left just Vel, staying alone in the unfamiliar manor.
A flutter of nervousness settled in his stomach. This was the first time in this world that he wouldn't be sleeping at home. The realization felt oddly significant—a small step toward independence that simultaneously highlighted how attached he'd grown to his family's modest house and their presence.
Though he'd need to get used to this sooner or later. The Academy lodging would be his home for years to come.
"This way," Lady Halen gestured with an elegant sweep of her hand. "You must be tired after such an eventful evening."
A servant 'materialized' beside them, a young man with impeccable posture. He guided Vel through the manor's winding corridors, past artwork and tapestries that likely cost more than his family's entire house. Lady Halen accompanied them briefly before excusing herself with promises to speak more in the morning.
The servant led Vel to a luxurious bathroom that rivaled anything he'd seen in his previous life. Marble floors gleamed beneath ornate lanterns, and a sunken bath large enough for several people had already been filled with steaming water. The scent of unfamiliar herbs and oils perfumed the air.
Two additional servants stood waiting inside, towels draped over their arms.
"Your bath is prepared, sir," one announced with a slight bow. "We will assist you."
Vel's eyes widened slightly. It was one thing to read about such customs in books, but quite another to face the prospect of strangers watching him bathe.
"Thank you, but I prefer to bathe alone," he said, trying to sound confident rather than embarrassed. "I can manage without assistance."
The servants exchanged glances, clearly unused to such a request.
"As you wish, sir," the elder of the two replied after a moment's hesitation. "We'll be just outside should you require anything."
As they filed out, Vel wondered if nobles really allowed servants to remain and help them wash. Even in his old world, he'd never experienced such a thing. The thought puzzled him as he cautiously tested the water's temperature with his fingertips.
Moments later, Vel stepped out of the bathroom, his skin tingling pleasantly from the hot water and aromatic oils. Despite his suspicions about Lady Halen's motives, he couldn't deny the bath had been rejuvenating. He'd never experienced anything quite like it—the perfect temperature maintained throughout, the subtle fragrances that seemed to ease tension from his muscles, the sheer luxury of having enough hot water to fully submerge himself.
"Refreshed, sir?" asked a butler who appeared almost immediately at his side. The man wore the same immaculate uniform as the other servants, though his bearing suggested higher rank.
"Very much so," Vel admitted, running a hand through his damp hair. "Thank you."
"If you'll follow me, I'll show you to your accommodations for the night."
The butler led Vel through corridors he hadn't seen before, taking him to an entirely different wing of the manor. The architecture here felt slightly different—more intimate, with lower ceilings and warmer tones in the decor. The air carried a mild fragrance of perfume, but not overpowering enough to mask the fresh night breeze coming through occasional open windows.
Vel tried to memorize their path, noting landmarks and turns, but the manor's layout proved more complex than he'd anticipated. After several minutes of walking, the butler finally stopped before an ornate wooden door.
"Your room, sir. The servants have been instructed not to disturb you until morning." The butler gave a small bow. "Lady Halen wishes you a pleasant rest."
With that, the man turned and walked away, leaving Vel alone in the quiet corridor. He stood there for a moment, listening to the butler's footsteps fade into silence.
Taking a deep breath, Vel pushed the door knob and entered.
Vel stepped inside, hand still on the brass handle, his eyes adjusting to the dim light. The fragrance of incense mingled with something sweeter in the air, meant to soothe the mind and lower defenses. The warmth enveloped him as the hearth burned slowly.
Thoughts of the day's events swirled in his mind. Something was off. Lady Halen had been far too persistent for simple hospitality. He had played along, feigning ease through pleasantries and polite smiles, but unease lingered in the corners of his mind. Now, standing at the threshold of the guest chamber, the reason became clear.
A girl sat by the bed.
Did he enter the wrong room? She didn't flinch at his entrance, moving slowly and deliberately past him. Her presence brushed close enough for Vel to feel warmth and the light perfume she wore. She reached for the door behind him, and a soft click confirmed it—she wasn't here by mistake.
Vel turned to face her as she stepped back to the bed with measured strides. The dim light revealed silver strands of her hair, styled in twin braids that fell neatly on the sides of her head, just below her collarbone. Her sleeping gown added an air of innocence, and she looked just about his age.
"I'll be… accompanying you for tonight."
Her voice was calm, meeting his gaze with an expression as still as water. Vel's heart raced. The weight of her words settled heavily in the room.
Vel wasn't naive. Two lifetimes of experience—one far longer than this current one—gave him clarity about what was happening. This was a night service, carefully orchestrated. Yet every instinct screamed that this was a trap. Lady Halen's excessive hospitality, the separation from his family and Celia, the luxurious bath—all pieces of a puzzle leading to this moment. The question remained: why?
The girl had already settled herself on the edge of the bed, hands folded neatly in her lap. Her movements appeared practiced, rehearsed even, but Vel caught the subtle hesitation in her posture. The slight tremor in her fingers betrayed her inexperience. She was new to this role—her youthful features confirmed as much.
Vel felt his body betray him as a slow heat curled in his gut. Chemistry and biology waged war against reason—his mind screaming danger while his body responded with primal interest. For the first time since his reincarnation, the two parts of himself fought against each other.
His feet moved of their own accord, carrying him closer to the bed. He found himself sitting beside her, their faces mere inches apart. Her breath was warm, tinged with mint leaf. Up close, her features were delicate, almost ethereal.
"What's your name?" The words left his mouth before he could stop them.
"Hileya," she answered softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
His mind seized control again. The consequences loomed clear—scandal, manipulation, blackmail. Lady Halen's political game unfolded before him like a chess board where he was merely a pawn.
In the hearth's wavering light, Vel looked directly into Hileya's eyes. Wide and amber-flecked, they held the same innocent glimmer he'd seen countless times in Celia's gaze. Yet where Celia's eyes always sparked with determination and choices yet unmade, Hileya's remained fixed and distant. They reflected the flames but sought nothing, questioned nothing—windows to a soul that had learned not to want.
Her gaze didn't meet his but drifted somewhere beyond the wall, as if her mind had retreated to a safer place while her body remained. When she blinked, her lashes fluttered with practiced grace, yet no decision lived behind that movement. Each gesture seemed choreographed by unseen hands.
Those eyes told Vel everything. They weren't watching for his reaction or weighing options—they were simply waiting for commands, for this duty to be complete.
Then, a strand of silver hair fell behind her ear, Vel noticed. Her ears weren't rounded like a human's, nor were they pointed like a full-blooded elf's. They tapered slightly at the top—the unmistakable mark of mixed heritage.
A half-elf.
Hileya's hand shot up, quickly covering her ear the moment she noticed Vel's gaze lingering there. Her eyes widened with unmistakable fear, her breath catching in her throat. That single reflexive movement told Vel everything—she was hiding what many in this world considered a curse.
Half-elf. The living embodiment of a taboo both races held sacred.
Vel recalled the history he learned in Elnor. The border wars between humans and elves had lasted generations, particularly fierce among human nobles and elven royal bloodlines. Marriages between the races were forbidden, and children born of such unions faced rejection from both sides. To humans, such births represented a taint in their dignity and lineage. To elves, especially those of royal standing, they were a disgrace to their pure bloodlines.
Was this why Lady Halen fought so viciously for her political standing as an elf in human lands? To prove her superiority? The war might have ended on paper, but the prejudice clearly lived on in the shadows of society.
Hileya trembled slightly beneath his gaze, her eyes downcast. She wasn't afraid of him, Vel realized. She was afraid of being truly seen—of having her secret exposed to judgment.
Vel reached out slowly. Hileya flinched, anticipating his touch on the ear she was desperately trying to hide. Instead, he gently pulled her hand away, revealing what she considered her shame.
"You don't have to hide it," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
Her eyes widened with shock, unused to such acceptance. The tension in her shoulders remained, years of conditioning not easily undone by a single kind gesture.
"Did you have any choice in this?" Vel asked, gesturing vaguely to the room, the bed, the arrangement that had brought them together.
Hileya's eyes dropped to the floor, her hands fidgeting with the folds of her gown.
"I was told to treat you with utmost respect and...give you the most pleasant night time," she whispered mechanically, as if reciting words that had been carefully chosen for her.
Vel's chest tightened. The words confirmed his suspicions—she was a pawn, moved across the board by unseen hands for someone else's gain. Lady Halen's, most likely. The realization sent a chill down his spine despite the warmth of the room. Taking advantage of Hileya felt fundamentally wrong, like exploiting a person's trust or betraying a friend's confidence.
He studied her more carefully now. The perfect posture that wasn't natural but trained. The way her fingers trembled slightly when she thought he wasn't looking. The practiced smile that never quite reached her eyes.
Had she been groomed for this role? How many others had she been sent to before him? Or was he her first assignment—a test of her obedience?
Vel sighed deeply and sat back up, creating distance between them. He offered her an understanding smile, one that held no expectation or demand.
The shift in his demeanor caused an immediate reaction in Hileya. Her shoulders slumped slightly, and something like sorrow passed across her features. The mask of dutiful compliance cracked, revealing genuine emotion beneath—not relief, but disappointment.
"Was I not good enough for you?" she asked, her voice small and fragile. "Have I failed my only duty?"
The question struck Vel like a physical blow. She wasn't afraid of him using her—she was afraid of failing at being used. Whatever conditioning she had undergone ran deeper than he'd initially thought. Her worth had been tied to her ability to please, to serve, to be whatever someone else wanted her to be.
Vel's heart hammered against his ribs, instinct and desire waging war against his conscience. Everything about Hileya—her delicate features, her silver hair, the vulnerable look in her eyes—called to him on a primal level. Yet something deeper than physical attraction held him back.
"No, Hileya," he said softly, his voice slightly strained as he fought against his own instincts. "I struggle to fight my instinct to be all over you."
Her eyes widened slightly, confusion replacing the disappointment.
"You have everything that I want," he continued, the admission forcing its way out despite his better judgment. "But this feels wrong."
He studied her face, searching for understanding, for some sign that she comprehended why he couldn't go through with this arrangement.
"Is this your first time?" Vel asked, the question hanging between them like fragile crystal.
Hileya's eyes dropped to the floor. She nodded once, a small movement that confirmed everything Vel had suspected.
"That confirms it," he whispered, more to himself than to her.
The realization strengthened his resolve. Whatever Lady Halen's schemes, he wouldn't be party to using this girl as a political tool. Hileya deserved better than to have such an intimate moment reduced to manipulation.
"Don't worry, Hileya," Vel said, standing from the bed. "Come sit with me."
He walked toward the nearby table where two chairs were set up, a tea set arranged neatly on its polished surface. The ceramic pot still steamed slightly, suggesting it had been prepared shortly before his arrival.
Hileya hesitated, confusion evident in her posture. This clearly wasn't how these encounters typically progressed in her limited understanding. Nevertheless, she rose from the bed and followed him to the table, her movements uncertain.
Vel settled into one of the elegant wooden chairs, gesturing for Hileya to take the seat opposite him. She sat with perfect posture, hands folded neatly in her lap, but her eyes betrayed her confusion at this unexpected turn of events.
"So," Vel began, pouring tea into two delicate porcelain cups, "what did you do before... this?"
The steam rose between them as he slid one cup toward her. Hileya hesitated, as if unsure whether answering honestly was permitted.
"I'm in training as a lady's maid here in the manor," she replied, her voice measured and even. "My parents also work for Lady Halen—father in the stables and mother in the kitchens."
Vel nodded, encouraging her to continue as he sipped his tea.
"I've been here since I was eight," she added, her fingers tracing the rim of her untouched cup. "Lady Halen said I carry a natural grace that puts guests at ease. That's why she thought I would be suitable for... special assignments."
The way she relayed her story felt practiced, each word carefully chosen and delivered with a rehearsed cadence. Yet nothing about it struck Vel as obviously false.
"And tonight is your first such... assignment?" Vel asked gently.
Hileya nodded, finally taking a small sip of her tea. "Yes. I've been preparing for months. There were lessons on conversation, deportment, how to make guests feel comfortable and..." Her voice trailed off, a flush spreading across her cheeks.
"I'm afraid I've failed in my duties," she whispered, staring into her cup. "Lady Halen will be displeased."
"You haven't failed," Vel said firmly, surprising himself with how strongly he felt about this. "I feel perfectly at ease talking with you like this. Perhaps this is exactly the kind of comfort I needed tonight."
Her eyes flickered up to meet his, genuine surprise visible in their depths.
"Really? But I was told..."
"Not everyone wants the same things," Vel interrupted gently. "Sometimes good company and conversation are more valuable than anything else."
Hileya's posture relaxed slightly, the first genuine reaction he'd seen from her all evening.
"I've never thought of it that way," she admitted, taking another sip of tea. "I was so focused on doing everything exactly as I was instructed that I didn't consider there might be alternatives."
Vel smiled, finding unexpected comfort in this honest exchange. "The best connections between people often happen when we set aside our expectations and just be present with each other."
Vel watched the genuine smile transform Hileya's face. It was like witnessing a flower bloom—subtle but beautiful in its authenticity. He realized how rare such moments must be for someone constantly performing a role.
"Lady Halen doesn't need to know what happened here tonight," Vel said, setting his cup down. "But if she really does ask, just tell her it was my request to spend the evening talking."
Hileya's eyes widened slightly. "You would take responsibility? But Lady Halen might —"
"If anything, you've succeeded at making this evening far more pleasant than it could have been." Vel interrupted gently.
She seemed to consider this, her fingers tracing patterns on the porcelain cup.
"Are all the servants' children here destined to continue their parents' work?" Vel asked, changing the subject. "Do you really have any choice in your life?"
The question seemed to catch Hileya off guard. Her brow furrowed slightly as if the concept itself was foreign to her.
"Choice?" she repeated, testing the word as if tasting an unfamiliar food. "I've never... I mean, following in my parents' footsteps is expected. That's how things are in service."
"But is that what you want?"
Hileya's hands stilled around her cup, her expression shifting from confusion to something more complex—a mixture of bewilderment and caution, as if suspecting a trap.
"Want? I don't understand what you mean. It's not about wanting."
"If you could do anything else—be anything else—what would you choose?" Vel pressed gently.
Hileya's mouth opened slightly, then closed again. She looked away, toward the window where darkness pressed against the glass.
"No one has ever asked me that before," she admitted quietly. "I've never thought about... choosing differently."
She fell silent, her expression distant as if peering into possibilities she'd never considered existed.
"Is that strange?" she finally asked, looking back at Vel with genuine curiosity. "Do most people think about choices they can't have?"
Vel's heart ached at the genuine confusion in Hileya's eyes. How different their lives were—he with his knowledge and awareness of the world's systems, and she who never even considered she might have choices.
"Everyone deserves to think about what they truly want," he said quietly. "Even if it seems impossible."
Hileya tilted her head slightly, considering his words. The candlelight caught the silver strands of her hair, making them shimmer like moonlight.
"I always wanted to be useful, to not be cast aside," Hileya said, her voice barely above a whisper. "That's all I ever dared to hope for."
The simplicity of her desire struck Vel deeply. Not dreams of adventure or power or even love—just to be valued, to have purpose. To not be discarded.
"Is that why you agreed to... this arrangement tonight?" he asked carefully.
She nodded, fingers tightening around her teacup. "Lady Halen said I could prove my worth. That I could secure a better position for myself if I pleased you."
Vel felt a surge of anger toward Lady Halen, masked behind his neutral expression. The manipulation ran deeper than he'd initially thought. Using this girl's desperate desire for acceptance as leverage was cruel.
He studied Hileya's features, connecting dots in his mind. Half-elven, trained in the manor, knowledge of proper etiquette and service...
A memory suddenly clicked into place. Lady Halen's words from earlier that evening: "I'd like you to meet someone who could tell you more about our history."
Was this half-elven maid what she had meant? Someone who straddled both worlds, human and elven? Someone who would have a unique perspective on the tensions between the races?
I guess life really is different depending on where you're born into, Vel thought, watching Hileya sip her tea with practiced grace despite her obvious discomfort.
"You said your parents work here," Vel said carefully. "Does that mean one of them is an elf and the other human?"
The question landed between them like a stone dropped in still water. Hileya's hands froze around her teacup, her eyes widening with surprise. Her shoulders tensed slightly, as though preparing for an attack. Clearly, she hadn't expected anyone—especially not a guest of Lady Halen's—to address her heritage so directly.
For a moment, Vel thought she might refuse to answer. Her gaze darted to the door, as if calculating her chances of escape. But then her shoulders slumped slightly, and something like resignation crossed her features.
"My mother is an elf," she admitted quietly, her voice barely audible above the crackle of the fire. "She's lived over sixty years, though she appears much younger to human eyes."
She paused, tracing the rim of her cup with one finger. The firelight caught the silver in her hair, making it shimmer like moonlight on water.
"My father—my true father—passed away long before I came here." A shadow passed over her features. "The man I call father now, he works in the stables... he's more of a father figure, not blood-related."
"That's interesting. Does that mean you're older than you look?" Vel asked, studying her delicate features with renewed interest.
Hileya shook her head gently, the silver strands of her hair catching the candlelight.
"No. We... half-elves grow at the same rate as normal humans, some a bit slower depending on how much elven blood is in us. But we have the same aging as humans for the most part," she explained, her fingers idly tracing patterns on the porcelain teacup.
"What about magic? I heard elves are good with magic," Vel continued, genuinely curious.
Hileya shook her head again, a flicker of regret passing across her features. Obviously, magic wasn't included in the list of maid training, as Vel had expected. Such knowledge was a privilege reserved for those at the Academy.
As the night deepened, Vel found himself sharing more than he'd intended. He told Hileya about Oakhaven's fall, the Wulfang attack, his sister Landre, the incident with Trinon—all the events that had led him here, carefully omitting the part about coming from another world.
"And that's how I ended up here, to the Academy, to this... strange party," he concluded, realizing how therapeutic it felt to simply talk about everything he'd experienced.
Hileya listened with rapt attention, occasionally asking questions or offering sympathetic nods. The conversation flowed naturally between them.
As the candles burned low, both grew tired. Hileya stifled a yawn behind her hand, trying to maintain her composure despite her obvious exhaustion.
"You should go back to your quarters," Vel suggested, noticing her drooping eyelids.
Hileya shook her head. "I cannot return to my room until morning. That's... one aspect of my duty tonight."
Vel glanced around the room, taking in the limited options. There was nothing but the bed and the two chairs they currently occupied. Hileya, with her trained maid's eye, had clearly already noted this mundane detail.
"If you don't mind sleeping on the bed together," Hileya said softly, adding quickly, "but I promise I won't do anything."
She had a point. At the very least, they should maintain appearances, to avoid compromising Hileya's position with Lady Halen.
Exhaustion from the eventful day caught up to Vel quickly. He settled onto one side of the bed, giving ample space for Hileya. Within moments, his consciousness began to drift away.
Hileya sat on the edge of the bed, her gaze locked on Vel's sleeping figure. A glint of admiration and respect shone in her eyes. She had expected a very different outcome tonight—to be used as a tool, to offer her body. Instead, she had been treated as an equal, like a human being.
"Goodnight, young master Vel," she whispered.