"So..."
Darius broke the heavy silence, his voice quiet and a little strained.
He was staring at the two "awake" figures in front of him—though calling them awake was generous.
Michael and Suzzy were both technically conscious. Eyes open. Breathing. But they looked like they were war victims and then electrocuted for good measure.
Michael's whole body shook in tiny, continuous tremors, he was suffering from seizure. His hands clutched at nothing, opening and closing reflexively while his eyes stared at nothing with hollow devastation.
Suzzy wasn't much better. She'd pulled her knees up to her chest on the ground—very unladylike for someone from a noble house—and was rocking slightly back and forth, lips moving soundlessly, she was trying to calculate numbers she couldn't comprehend.
They looked broken.
Ignatia let out a long, controlled sigh through her nose. She pushed her glasses up with one finger, the gesture so precise it looked mechanical.
"It's fine," she said, though her tone suggested it was absolutely not fine. "It's... mostly manageable."
Michael's head turned toward her with glacial slowness, his golden eyes bloodshot and disbelieving. He didn't say anything. Just stared.
"The accounting and reporting requirements aren't complicated," Ignatia continued, forcing herself into problem-solving mode because that was better than dwelling on anger and humiliation. "Annoying, certainly. Time-consuming. But not impossible. I believe everyone here can maintain basic financial ledgers and submit proper documentation, correct?"
There was a weak round of nods.
Well—everyone except Suzzy.
Suzzy just blinked slowly, hearing the word "ledger" might as well have been in a foreign language.
"Of course," Ignatia muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. "We'll address that later."
"The main issue," she continued, her heterochromatic eyes sweeping across the circle, "isn't paperwork. It's the debt itself."
Lyralei clicked her tongue—a sharp, irritated sound that cut through the room's defeated atmosphere.
She'd been sitting in silence since Dhaga left, arms still folded, posture still perfect. But her mind had been racing nonstop.
Debt. Of all the problems I thought I'd be dealing with right now, debt wasn't even on the list.
Half million gold coins.
The number kept echoing in her head, impossible to ignore. It was what she'd ever personally accumulated from her monthly allowances over the years. She'd always received 5,000 gold coins per month from House Valen's —a comfortable amount that let her buy whatever she wanted without worrying about budgets or restrictions.
Now that 5,000 felt like pocket change. Laughably inadequate.
Even if my allowance wasn't frozen, it would take... what, hundred months? Almost eight years to repay half million at five thousand a month.Her jaw tightened.
"So what are we supposed to do now?" Lyralei muttered under her breath, more to herself than anyone else. "Great. Just great."
She turned her head slightly, focusing on Vera, who still stood near the door looking like she desperately wanted to melt into the wallpaper.
"Vera."
Vera straightened immediately, eyes wide. "Y-Yes, Lady Lyralei?"
"Go check on Lilly," Lyralei ordered, her voice regaining its usual calm authority despite the chaos. "Find out her exact situation. What restrictions the Royal Guard Bureau placed on her. Whether she's actually confined or just under observation. Don't argue with the guards—just observe and report back to me directly."
"Right!" Vera nodded frantically. "I'll go immediately!"
Her legs were still shaky from stress, but she pushed herself away from the wall and hurried toward the door anyway. She stumbled slightly on the threshold but caught herself and disappeared into the corridor.
The door clicked shut behind her.
Silence settled again—heavier this time, pressing down on everyone's shoulders.
Ignatia tilted her head back, staring at the ornate ceiling for a long moment.
She lowered her gaze and looked toward the side of the room.
"Naukar."
A quiet voice answered immediately. "Yes, my lady?"
"How much do you currently have?" Ignatia asked, her tone flat.
The figure reached up, removing his mask with slow, deliberate movements.
Red slit eyes—like a serpent's—stared back at Ignatia and black hair pulled back into a tight knot. He formed a soft smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Around 24,000 gold," Naukar said quietly.
The number hung in the air.
Suzzy's head snapped up, eyes going wide with betrayed disbelief. "Your guardian has more personal savings than I do?!"
Michael made a weak, wounded sound and slumped even further in his chair, like that single fact had dealt the killing blow to whatever dignity he had left.
Even Darius winced.
Suzzy was still staring at Naukar with wide, horrified eyes. "Does the Vermillion family pay their guardians that much? Can you hire me? Please? I'll dust things. I'll carry stuff. I'll—"
"No," Ignatia cut her off bluntly. "I just transfer my spending money to him when I need to make purchases. He holds it and manages transactions. The savings are technically mine—he's just the custodian."
"Oh." Suzzy deflated immediately. "That makes more sense. Still depressing, though."
Ignatia turned her attention to Michael, her heterochromatic eyes sharp. "So. What can you do about this situation?"
Michael let out a laugh—high-pitched, slightly hysterical, completely devoid of humor.
"Nothing," he said, voice cracking. "I can do absolutely nothing. My entire fortune just evaporated. Gone. Years of careful saving, gifts from relatives—all seized."
He dragged both hands through his black hair, pulling at it. "The real question isn't what I can do. It's what we can do. And the answer is basically nothing meaningful."
His hands dropped to his lap. "Even with aggressive investments and perfect returns, it would take at least fifteen years to accumulate that much wealth again. Minimum. And that's assuming everything goes right, which it never does."
Ignatia frowned, clearly unhappy with his defeatist attitude but unable to argue with the math.
"It's not like it's a permanent debt," she said after a moment, her voice taking on a forced reasonableness. "Worst case scenario, we clear it after graduating from the academy. We all have family resources we can access once we're no longer students."
"That's seven years," Darius muttered, his face pressed against the desk he'd slumped over. His voice came out muffled and miserable. "Seven years without any personal money. I can't believe this is real..."
The weight of that timeline settled over everyone like a wet blanket.
Seven years of academy life with zero discretionary income. No shopping. No luxury items. No spontaneous purchases. No gifts. No celebrations. Nothing beyond basic survival necessities.
For people who'd grown up with effectively unlimited resources, it was unthinkable.
Lyralei stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. Everyone's eyes turned toward her.
She stretched, rolling her shoulders and working out the tension from sitting still for so long. When she spoke, her voice carried the kind of decisive authority that had always made people listen.
"Alright. Here's what we're doing. Ignatia, Darius—you two figure out the accounting and reporting requirements. Get everything organized properly so we don't give Dhaga any more ammunition to use against us."
She turned to Michael and Suzzy, pointing at them. "You two are on money-making duty, you need to generate income, figure out what skills you have that are marketable."
Ignatia stood as well, adjusting her glasses. "Agreed. Sulking accomplishes nothing."
She looked at Michael, who was still slumped dramatically. "Get that moron off the table," she hissed.
Then she turned to Darius. "And you—drink some water or take a bath. You're turning back into a merman."
Darius blinked, confused. "Am I?"
He looked down at his hands.
His fingers had started sticking together slightly, webbing forming between them. Gills were beginning to emerge at his throat—small slits that opened and closed involuntarily. The skin on his arms was shifting texture, taking on a subtle scale pattern. His eyes had changed too—the normal black , now glowing with pure gold, pupils reforming into horizontal lines.
"Oh," he said quietly. "That's not good."
The Merfolk Bloodline manifested physical transformations when he was under extreme stress. Normally he could suppress it, but today had apparently pushed him past his usual control.
He stood quickly, heading toward the door. "I'll... go take care of that."
Lyralei nodded, then turned to Suzzy, who still looked like she might start crying at any moment.
"Come on," Lyralei said, her voice softening slightly. "Don't whine this much. I can literally see the veins bulging on your forehead from stress. It's not attractive."
Suzzy sniffled. "But—"
"No buts. We'll figure it out. We always do."
With that, Lyralei headed toward the door.
Just another mess to clean up, she thought, her expression settling between determination and resignation.
The corridors of Sun Mansion were quiet as Lyralei made her way toward the guest wing where Lilly was being held.
Her footsteps echoed slightly on the polished marble floors. Evening light streamed through the tall windows, painting everything in shades of gold and amber. Under different circumstances, it would have been beautiful.
Right now, it just felt empty.
That bastard Dhaga, she thought, her eyes narrowing as she replayed their encounter in her mind.
He'd been deliberately rude, obviously. Mocking their authority, treating them like children playing dress-up. That part was clear.
But there was something else underneath. Something about his presence—the way he'd moved, the way he'd spoken, the absolute confidence in every gesture—that felt different somehow.
She couldn't estimate him properly. Couldn't get a read on his actual strength beyond the obvious surface-level.
And that bothered her more than the debt did.
She reached Lilly's assigned room and paused, expecting to see royal guards posted outside.
There were none.
Strange.
She pushed the door open.
The scene inside was... not what she expected.
Lilly sat cross-legged on the bed, looking perfectly fine.
Vera stood nearby holding a glass of water, looking relieved but still worried.
When Lyralei entered, both of them looked up.
"What happened?" Lyralei asked without preamble. "Explain."
Lilly let out a short, bitter laugh. "Oh, you met the nice gentleman already?"
"Yes," Lyralei said flatly. "I hope you have something useful to report. Or better yet, don't talk about him at all if you can't add value."
Lilly's laugh turned into something more genuine, though edged with frustration. "Total nuts, that one. They literally chained me like I was some kind of dangerous criminal."
She held up her wrists, showing red marks where metal restraints had clearly been—recently removed based on how fresh the marks looked.
"And they were total bullies too!" Lilly's voice took on an indignant whine. "Asking me the same questions over and over, threatening me with legal charges, acting like I'd committed treason. All because I was investigating a travel route!"
Her eyes started watering. "Lyralei, they were so mean—"
Lyralei sighed, the sound heavy with exhaustion.
Vera stepped forward, patting Lilly's back consolingly while shooting Lyralei an apologetic look.
"It's fine," Lyralei said. "You're not hurt. That's what matters. We'll deal with the rest later."
With the immediate crisis addressed, the heirs got busy.
They threw themselves into organizing their new reality—distributing the unexpected workload of accounting, desperately trying to save money, minimizing expenses wherever possible, and scrambling to figure out how to generate income with whatever skills they possessed.
The four days until the results announcement and the Freshers' Party became a blur of frantic activity.
Ignatia sat at a large desk in one of Sun Mansion's study rooms, surrounded by towers of documents. Her white hair was pulled back in a severe bun, glasses perched on her nose, heterochromatic eyes scanning page after page with mechanical efficiency.
She wrote constantly—quill scratching across parchment, filling out forms, cross-referencing receipts, organizing transaction records into proper categories.
"Naukar—get me the receipts from the medical equipment purchases. Darius—find the mansion deed documentation. Move faster, both of you."
Her voice never wavered. She'd been at this for hours without breaking, fueled apparently by nothing but determination and spite.
Naukar hurried back and forth, fetching documents from various storage locations.
Together, they compiled everything:
Building permits and construction costs for the five dormitories constructed for Sun Empire heirsPurchase documentation for Sun Mansion itself—one million gold coins, legally acquired but without proper authorizationMedical equipment expenditures—itemized lists of every healing bed, diagnostic crystal, surgical tool, and protective barrier generator they'd bought
Ignatia and Michael worked together on the final submission documents, organizing everything into the format Dhaga's new requirements demanded.
Michael, eyes bloodshot, golden irises that had once sparkled with mischief now dull and lifeless. Bags hung under his eyes like bruises. His hands moved mechanically, scribbling numbers, cross-referencing ledgers, checking calculations.
Ignatia's face remained unchanged, perfectly composed as always—but the bangles on her wrists, which had once fit well, now hung slightly loose.
"STOP!"
Lilly grabbed Vera's shoulders, physically restraining her friend from accepting the employment contract she'd been about to sign.
"What do you mean only five gold for the whole year?!" Lillu's voice rose to a near-shout. "Don't you know the minimum wage for academy part-time positions is fifteen gold per month? They're trying to scam you!"
Vera blinked, looking down at the contract with new understanding. "Oh. That... seems bad."
"It IS bad!"
They'd spent the entire day visiting different shops, restaurants, and service businesses around the academy district, asking about employment opportunities. Vera, in her desperate eagerness to help, had almost accepted three different exploitative contracts before Lilly caught them.
"We need to be smarter about this," Lilly muttered, steering Vera away from the shady merchant who'd been trying to hire her for slave wages.
Michael sat in a cramped office in the Merchant District Financial Exchange, staring at stock charts with bloodshot eyes.
He'd borrowed seed money from Naukar—just enough to make small investments—and was attempting to turn it into something larger through aggressive trading.
"Ha!" Michael's finger stabbed at a particular listing on the board. "Give me stock in Fireball Tech Firm! Three hundred shares!"
The exchange clerk looked at him skeptically. Who even allowed this crazy kid in here?
But money was money, so he processed the order anyway.
Michael grinned with manic energy. He was going to make their fortune back. He had to. His armor upgrades depended on it.
Darius set up a small stall outside the academy store, a hand-painted sign propped up beside him:
HANDCRAFTED FIGURES – 1 SILVER EACH!
A guy with round glasses stopped, picking up a small wooden horse. His eyes widened as he held it up to the light.
"Amazing! It has water flowing inside it!" He turned to his companion, grinning like a kid. "How cool is this, Lara?!"
The short-haired woman beside him—Lara—had burn scars on her forehead. She eyed the figure skeptically. "I doubt it's quality. Will it last?"
She turned to Darius, one eyebrow raised.
"No doubts about it!" Darius said confidently, tapping the wooden base. "Enchanted to last at least five years."
Lara considered for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. Buy one, Steve."
Steve beamed, handing over a silver coin.
Suzzy stood in the kitchen of one of the most popular dining establishment—Snow Flake Restaurant—her hands moving with practiced precision.
She peeled a potato, sliced it thin, seasoned it with a blend of spices and salt, then pan-fried it in oil until it turned golden and crispy.
The head cook took one bite.
Then another.
Then tears streamed down his weathered face.
"You…" His voice cracked. "It's amazing. I never thought a potato could be cooked this way!"
He grabbed Suzzy's hands. "You're hired!!!"
Suzzy cheered, tears of relief streaming down her own face as the head cook sobbed into his apron, still chewing.
She became the first of the heirs to land an actual paying job: assistant cook at Snow Flake Restaurant.
"You're amazing," the chef muttered, wiping his eyes. "Truly amazing."
While everyone else ran around in organized chaos, Lyralei spent her time differently.
Lyralei sat alone in her private dorm, legs crossed, eyes closed. Her breathing was slow, controlled, each inhale and exhale perfectly measured.
The backlash from the Heart Duel was fading. Her mana circuits were stabilizing. Slowly. Painfully. But steadily.
Her pale skin flushed red as black lightning crackled over her veins, arcing across her arms, like living tattoos.
She stretched, feeling the tension release from her muscles. Her black eyes opened, sharp and focused.
One step at a time.
The four days passed faster than anyone expected.
Suddenly it was morning again—the day when examination results would be posted and class assignments finalized.
The same day as the Freshers' Welcome Party that evening.
Students flooded the Central Notice Board in waves, pushing and shoving to see their rankings. Cheers erupted from some. Groans of disappointment from others. Arguments broke out over disputed scores.
The heirs stood together—exhausted, broke, stressed, but still standing.
They'd survived Dhaga's judgment.
Now they just had to survive everything that came next.
But in the Sun Mansion's infirmary, far from the noise and celebration, something else was happening.
In the absence of everyone except Grand Physician Aldous, who sat quietly beside the bed, monitoring vitals with practiced eyes—
Prince Agni's eyelids fluttered.
Then, slowly, they opened.