The Academy library was a sanctuary of silence and old wood. Evan opened the heavy oak door, and the smell of ancient paper, leather, and sacred dust enveloped him. The room was vast, with long shelves. Evening light filtered through the windows, illuminating motes of dust dancing in the still air.
At the reception desk, a young, serious-faced librarian was adjusting some catalogs. She wore a pair of fine crystal spectacles with silver frames; Evan rarely saw anyone with them. Seeing Evan, her gaze was professional and distant.
"Excuse me," he whispered, conscious of the reverential silence of the place. "Do you know of any books about the Loras and the First Step?"
The woman silently pointed towards the second shelf on the left. Evan nodded in thanks and headed there, but not without noticing something. As his gaze passed over her shoulder towards the only other occupant of the room, he saw the receptionist incline her head slightly, almost in an unconscious bow, in that direction.
There, sitting alone at a long study table, was a girl.
She wore the same academy uniform as Evan—short cape, jacket, wide belt—but with a skirt that reached just above her knees. Her hair was fiery red, straight and falling over her shoulders. She was absorbed in a book.
Noble, without a doubt. And not just any noble—likely from a branch of the royal family.
He averted his gaze and focused on the shelves. His fingers ran over the worn spines: "Loras, Adars, and Consorts"... "The Price of the Steps"... "The Path of the Wind God"... until he found a promising title: "The First Step to Divinity and the Secrets of the Loras." He took it and, choosing the spot farthest from the girl, sat down at the opposite end.
Evan didn't know if this girl was the student Julius had told him about, but he wasn't going to speak to her, not if he could avoid it. He didn't have the courage to approach a girl, much less a noble one.
He tried to read. He frowned. The concepts were dense, abstract. They spoke of "cracks in the Kosmos" and "divine impregnation." He looked up, frustrated, and for the first time noticed that the red-haired girl was no longer reading.
She was watching him.
Not with idle curiosity, but with an intense, shy attention. Her eyes, a beautiful violet color, met his for a second before quickly looking down, a blush rising up her neck. Evan froze. Why was she looking at him like that?
Then, with sudden decision, the girl gathered her book and notebook and changed seats. Not to another part of the table, but to the seat directly opposite him.
Evan held his breath. Now he could see her up close. Her face was one of serene, delicate beauty. She had a small nose, thin lips, and those violet eyes that now studied the table nervously. She wore a small silver brooch shaped like a crescent moon on the collar of her cape. She smelled of something clean and expensive, like lavender and new paper. Curiously, she wore no trace of makeup, which Evan judged as a positive.
With quick but elegant movements, she opened her notebook—bound in fine leather—took a fountain pen, and wrote something. Then, after a pause in which she seemed to gather courage, she turned the notebook towards Evan.
The handwriting was a work of art. Fluid strokes, perfect slant, as if copied from a royal manuscript.
"Are you Evan?" (◕‿◕)
Evan blinked, bewildered. Why was she writing? Was this some noble game? And what's with that cute little doodle like a human expression? He nodded cautiously.
"Yes, I'm Evan. And you... are you the one Professor Julius told me about?"
The girl nodded enthusiastically, a small, genuine smile lighting up her face. She wrote again.
"That's right! It's me (✿◠‿◠) My name is Diane. The professor said you might be able to help me with something…"
Help her? Wasn't he the one supposed to get help? But then Evan remembered Julius's words: "befriend her if you can." This was part of the deal, then. He straightened in his seat, adopting a more formal attitude.
"Alright," he said, and his voice sounded more formal than he intended. "But... I was wondering. Why do you write in your notebook instead of talking?"
The question came out unfiltered, driven by a curiosity that overrode his usual caution. It wasn't a reproach, just genuine incomprehension.
Diane went still for a moment. Her gaze, once shyly curious, settled on the open notebook as if it were an abyss.
Finally, with a slow blink that seemed to close an internal debate, she lowered the pen. The scratch of the nib on the paper was the only sound in the world.
"It's because I am mute. I cannot speak even if I wished to. (ಥ﹏ಥ)"
The words, in her impeccable handwriting, hit Evan hard.
His eyes opened slightly.
In an instant, the prejudices he held against her—the ignorant noble, the daughter of a world of contemptible privilege—cracked.
Evan felt he could lower his guard. In his experience, people with disabilities tended to be kinder as a general rule, even nobles. Besides, the wall she faced was like the one Evan faced against poverty.
"Oh," he managed to say. "I'm sorry... I didn't realize, I'm a bit dense sometimes," said Evan with a nervous smile.
"It's okay. You couldn't have known. (◕‿◕)b"
"Right," said Evan, looking up and searching for a new beginning. "So... how can I help you?"
Diane seemed to think, gently nibbling the end of her pen. Then she wrote, slower this time.
"I heard you are close to Riusen, from the gladiator team… (´•̥ ̯ •̥`)"
Ah. That was it. Evan could almost see the romantic drama unfolding. A shy noble girl in love with the bastard hero. A classic.
"Yes, he and I are childhood friends. I know him pretty well. How can I help you with him?"
Diane's blush intensified. She wrote, crossed something out, and wrote again.
"I would like… for you to tell me about him. What he likes, what he's like… that sort of thing. Please (＞﹏＜)"
Evan couldn't help a small, understanding smile. I get it. If I were a woman, I'd probably fall for Riushi too. That guy really is something else. He nodded.
"Of course. Let's see..."
Evan spoke in a low voice, conscious of the library's silence, while Diane listened with an absolute attention he found moving.
"Riusen is... someone with a strong sense of what's right. He's an acolyte of the Sun Church and an exceptional swordsman. He always pushes himself too hard, never asks for help. He carries the weight of others as if it were his duty. I think he learned that from his father." Evan spoke with a note of admiration in his voice.
Diane nodded slowly, taking mental notes. Evan continued, describing his friend: He's a simple guy, likes tasty food, resting under the shade of a tree, playing chess… With each detail, Diane's expression grew warmer, more illuminated by genuine admiration.
When Evan finished, she wrote quickly.
"Thank you for telling me about him. He really is an amazing guy, isn't he! ( ◜‿◝ )♡"
"He really is," Evan agreed.
If anyone deserves to be happy, it would be Riushi. So if I can help him meet this beautiful lady now, I'd gladly do it. I'm sure Riushi would do the same for me.
"And… I was wondering if you could introduce us someday (´∀｀)♡"
"Hmm… yes," said Evan, though with a hint of doubt. "Although we're not as close as we used to be, I suppose I could speak well of you to him and introduce you."
"That would mean a lot to me. (人 •͈ᴗ•͈)"
They fell silent for a moment, an awkward but not unpleasant silence. Evan then remembered his own mission.
"Oh, I almost forgot. Julius said you could help me too."
Diane blinked, as if coming out of a daydream, and nodded energetically.
"I need help with information about the First Step to divinity. I'm from the suburbs, I'm not very well-versed in these topics."
Diane tilted her head, curious. She wrote.
"Really? You're not a noble? No offense (>_<)"
"No, obviously not," said Evan with a half-smile. "I thought my hair color gave it away. I'm mixed-race, with some Intis blood."
"I thought mixed-race people had white hair or black hair with white streaks… because of your black hair I thought you might be more of a noble from Yuguen. (・–・;)"
"Oh, no," Evan laughed briefly, without humor. "I'm pretty sure I'm not noble. And yes, I have a white streak, it's just somewhat hidden."
He lifted the hair a bit at the nape of his neck, on the left side. There, amidst the jet black, was a discreet but undeniable streak of snow-white hair. Diane's eyes opened a little wider, with fascinated interest.
"It must be difficult for you, studying and coming all the way here. That's amazing. (☆ω☆)"
The comment hung in the air between them. Evan didn't know how to respond. He had always found noble empathy condescending, but Diane's gaze wasn't. It was sincere. Instead of answering, he steered the conversation elsewhere.
"Anyway, about what I needed to ask you... this book talks about reaching a place where the god makes you 'take the leap.' How exactly does that work? How does a god interact with you if it has no form?"
Diane concentrated, her expression becoming serious and academic. She wrote paragraphs this time, explaining with surprising clarity about the "cracks" between the Kosmos and the Nuos, the places of ascension, and how gods reshape their chosen. Evan listened, absorbing every word, asking specific questions. For the first time, the abstract concepts began to make sense.
"Those places—temples, peaks, waterfalls, chasms—have cracks. Their essence seeps through there. It saturates us, remodels us. But only if they deem us worthy. (´･_･)` "
"It's not 'gaining more power,' but being a larger vessel to contain the power lent by the god. (－‸ლ) " she wrote at the end, underlining the last part.
Evan brought his fingers to his chin, thoughtful. "That... I had deduced some parts from hero stories and myths, but the idea that they were just vessels for the gods is a valuable new perspective. Thank you, Diane. You've helped me a lot," said Evan with a sincere smile.
Diane wrote again, this time with firmer strokes.
"But the most important thing is the price. Hero stories rarely show it. (>_<) "
"Each god asks for something in return for its power. It's usually something that binds you to them. And many lead... broken lives, because of what they lost. (╥_╥) "
"Wow... I really hadn't considered that," said Evan, looking at her with genuine respect.
"Yes, it's… my mother is an Adar. That's how I know. (￣ω￣;) "
Evan stifled an exclamation. Female Adars in Ferraria could be counted on one hand. But he still didn't want to get that involved with Diane, so he asked no more.
"Thank you, Diane. But I should go now," he said, looking at the light beyond the window. "I live far away; I must take advantage of the daylight."
Diane nodded understandingly.
Evan stood up, the thorn of worry pricking him again. Daylight was running out. But then, a gentle touch on his sleeve stopped him.
Diane was looking at him with a strange expression, a mix of shyness and determination. She wrote one last line, showed it, and then immediately lowered her gaze, her ears completely red.
"I was wondering if you… would you like to be my friend? (⁄ ⁄>⁄ ▽ ⁄<⁄ ⁄)"
Evan looked at her, stunned. Friend. The word echoed in his head. A noble, a girl who smelled of lavender and wore silver brooches, asking that of him. A commoner from Villa Verde.
"Friends?... With me?" he asked, unable to hide his disbelief.
Diane nodded, over and over, with an almost childlike insistence. Her violet eyes shone with a vulnerable hope that completely disarmed Evan's defenses.
No one had ever asked that of Evan before, let alone a noble. The risk was clear: offending her could cost him his expulsion. But her clumsiness seemed genuine. Maybe "friend" to her just meant passing company. An empty 'yes' would suffice for her to leave him alone and he could return to his world, where at least the rules were predictable.
"Well…" he said finally, his voice a bit hoarse. "If it's alright with you… okay."
The smile that lit up Diane's face was so radiant. She scribbled something and showed him the notebook, her handwriting jumping with joy.
"Friends, then! Thank you, Evan! ヽ(>∀<☆)ノ"
Evan felt something warm and strange in his chest. A warmth he didn't recognize. But he suppressed it, remembered his resentment towards nobles, and that made his foolish expression turn serious.
"You're welcome Diane."
He gave her a brief nod of the head, more out of habit than protocol, and turned away. He walked to the door and closed it behind him.
As he left the library, one final image was etched in his mind: Diane, alone at the large table, her hands pressed against her flushed cheeks, gazing out the window at the orange sunset sky with an expression of pure happiness.