It was early winter—
A mild winter, with no snow yet—
The kind of weather that normally made Nero want to curl up at home and relax.
Yet she had gone out of her way to come here.
Clearly, there was a reason for that.
In the bustling, crowded square, almost everyone's attention had been drawn to the silver-haired man who had just arrived.
Nero, hurrying over, also locked her gaze firmly onto that figure not far ahead.
Novia.
Her teacher.
Four years her senior.
Only four hours, twelve minutes, and twenty-three seconds had passed since they'd parted ways at the palace.
At first glance, his appearance hadn't changed at all.
But…
There was something different about him—
Was it because of the silver-haired girl standing behind him?
To be honest, though the girl's face was obscured by a mask, her presence alone set her apart from anyone Nero had ever encountered.
It wasn't just the imposing aura she exuded—
It was that unmistakable, non-human air clinging to her being.
Most people's eyes would naturally be drawn to that silver-haired girl.
But for Nero, all she felt was a deep, instinctive displeasure.
It was like this person's very existence was declaring ownership—
Much like the Spear Novia always carried.
That spear might've been an object, but to Nero, it had always felt alive—
And that was precisely why she despised it.
Who exactly was this silver-haired girl?
When they were in Antioch, neither Martha nor Paul had ever mentioned anyone like her.
And Novia hadn't left Rome recently, so how did this stranger suddenly appear at his side?
While Nero meticulously scrutinized the girl from head to toe, she suddenly noticed—
The silver-haired girl had taken off her mask, whispering something to Novia,
And Novia turned, facing… her.
The blonde girl paid close attention to the subtle shifts in the silver-haired girl's expression.
From emotionless and cold at first,
To a faint softening—
Her brows drooped slightly, her frame trembling like a pitiful little animal.
It was subtle, but to Nero's eyes, unmistakable.
In that faint, vulnerable expression, Nero could practically read the girl's inner resolve:
—She made a decision.
"Well, well, isn't that Teacher!"
In a flash, Nero appeared beside the two, eyes sparkling as she blinked and cheerfully patted the silver-haired girl on the shoulder.
"And who might this be? Silver hair, huh! Is she an old acquaintance of yours?
Or… a newly recruited bodyguard?"
"This is Albion," Novia replied calmly, entirely unfazed by Nero's sudden appearance.
"My friend.
And this is my student, Nero."
"I see! Well, well, nice to meet you, Lady Albion."
Nero's voice was bright and lively, though if one listened closely, the final "Lady" carried a faint undercurrent of coldness.
It wasn't blatant hostility, but—
She could smell it.
The faint, lingering scent of dried blood—
Coming from her teacher's body.
Nero had always liked the gentle warmth that clung to Novia's scent.
Whenever she caught that faint fragrance woven into the air, it soothed her—
An inexplicable, calming effect.
Perhaps it was magic.
But Nero had never asked.
She simply liked it that way.
"...Hmph. I already knew."
Albion huffed arrogantly, slipping the mask back over her face.
This Albion…
Hates me.
Nero could tell instantly.
A person's blinking pattern, their tone of voice, the pitch of their speech—
Even if faint, they all betrayed the truth.
And though this strange, feather-light girl exhibited barely any of those tells—
Nero understood them well enough.
Albion wanted to kill her.
But Nero…
Also wanted to kill Albion.
Because…
The scent of blood on Novia—
It had come from Albion's mouth.
This damn woman bit her teacher?
Bit him hard enough to draw blood?
Why isn't she dead yet?
For an instant, Nero could barely breathe.
The overwhelming urge to slit Albion's throat,
To crush her lungs,
To tear her limb from limb and reduce her body to nothing but mangled, scattered pieces—
It took everything Nero had to suppress it.
She knew…
This girl likely held some importance to Novia.
Otherwise, there's no way he'd keep her by his side.
If Nero acted rashly, it would only trouble her teacher.
Forcing her trembling fingers to intertwine,
Nero steadied her voice.
"Perhaps Lady Albion is new here and… not quite used to things yet."
"Human. Who gave you permission to speak my name so casually?"
Albion's voice was cold, laced with unmistakable displeasure as she crossed her arms.
"Oh? So Lady Albion isn't human? Fascinating."
Nero tilted her head playfully, grinning.
"Well then, it makes sense your customs are different.
Teacher, you really ought to be more understanding."
Her voice was carefree, her smile dazzling.
Yet her sharp eyes observed Albion intently.
She found it amusing—
This so-called proud, noble creature—
Barely moments ago, playing the part of a pitiful little thing,
Now, struggling to maintain her haughty facade.
"Oh right, I almost forgot—
I've got other things to handle.
I won't get in the way of you and Lady Albion."
Nero gently pressed her forehead to Novia's abdomen,
Looking up at him briefly,
Then released him.
She spared Albion one final glance before leaving—
Already picturing the girl's gritted teeth and seething expression.
Hmph.
Just another tool Teacher's using.
No matter how important she might seem…
She'll never matter more than me.
After all…
Teacher had used poison to control her.
That… made her special.
Nero knew this line of thinking was twisted—
Irrational—
Even absurd.
But she understood herself better than anyone.
The world could call her crazy if they wanted.
It didn't matter.
At that moment, Novia's gaze followed Nero, not Albion.
"Nero."
"...Y-Yes?"
Her teacher's voice made Nero stop in her tracks.
Her stiff, awkward reply escaped her lips as she turned.
Had he seen through her thoughts?
Her heart pounded violently,
Her cheeks flushed red—
But the strong sunlight… probably concealed it.
But Novia wasn't concerned with such things.
Instead, he spoke gently:
"I've always believed…
Your songs carry the power to bring happiness.
You should share them with more people.
Keep it up."
Watching the two figures gradually fade into the distance,
Nero lowered her golden lashes,
Contemplating his words.
She knew full well how effective her performance had been during the recent triumph parade.
Even if no one openly admitted it…
She understood.
"...Guess it's better to suppress the urge to kill that girl for now."
Her voice was a soft murmur.
"Let her bask in her little moment of pride for a few days."
With that, her slender fingers gathered magical energy,
And from the air, she produced the golden laurel wreath—
The same one that had crowned Novia's head during the parade.
Her eyes shone with fierce determination as she gently stroked it,
And placed it upon her own head.
I…
I'm the one Teacher cares about most.
Of that, Nero was absolutely certain.
And that… would never, ever change.