A grand mansion spanning five floors.
From the beautiful garden visible beyond the window to the antique walls and main gate, everything exuded magnificence.
It was the finest dormitory of the Imperial Academy, a place that only the top 10%—those who had proven their great qualifications and dignity—were allowed to enter.
La vie douce Hall.
As if to prove it was the pride of the Imperial Academy, it was luxurious and exuded class beyond compare.
Ruina Berchef sat once again in the exact same spot where she'd been stood up the previous day.
"Fernian Pellenberg."
She chewed over her anger toward him.
"He must be trying to put me in my place."
She was the one at a disadvantage because of the debt. What made it worse was that she couldn't even deny it.
The enormous debt the Berchef family owed the Pellenberg family.
The once-glorious family collapsed in a single incident and lost all its former prestige.
They had to sell everything to survive, and even that wasn't enough—they had to go into debt.
"Sorry for being late."
At that moment, the door opened. A man entered alongside a maid.
Hair as black as obsidian and crimson eyes. He was Fernan Pellenberg, the eldest son of the Pellenberg family.
His immaculate attire always exuded elegance and nobility—the very picture of an aristocrat as if painted into existence.
"Young Master Fernan, here's your coffee."
"Thank you."
"It's nothing. Please call me if you need anything."
The maid left. Only the two of them remained in the enclosed reception room.
"Sorry about yesterday. I was a bit out of it and forgot our appointment."
"Someone saw you leave La vie douce Hall right before our meeting time."
"..."
"It's fine. The one who's desperate always has to endure unfairness."
"That's not what happened—"
"Yes, then I'll pretend it wasn't."
Clink. Ruina elegantly lifted her teacup.
"I said that's not it… Never mind."
Fernan let out a short sigh. The more he explained, the more pathetic he sounded.
"So, what's the reason you wanted to meet me?"
"Ahem. Survival Magic. Combat, Warfare and Magic. Studies in Magical Beasts and Monsters. Do you know what all three subjects have in common?"
"They are practical-based lectures."
"And?"
"The Knight Faculty has similar subjects…."
Ruina's aquamarine-like blue eyes locked onto Fernan.
"From the second year onward, there are frequent joint classes between the Knight Faculty and the Magic Faculty. Is that your purpose?"
"There's one more thing."
"There is?"
"The most important part. Each one is worth five credits."
"..."
"Why that look? You're barely missing top honors and you have to get that scholarship. Isn't that important for you?"
"I won't deny it. Then you already know my answer."
"You don't want to partner with me?"
Those three subjects, starting in the second year, emphasized cooperation and shared experience between knights and mages.
That meant choosing a partner was a very serious matter.
"Correct. You're ranked 10th in the Magic Faculty. I'm second in the Knight Faculty. Why would I partner with you?"
2nd place and 10th place—quite the gap.
"I've already received several offers. All of them are better than yours."
"Naturally, someone ranked second would have better options than someone ranked tenth."
But reality wasn't so simple.
"If you partner with me consistently for three years, I'll waive the interest on your family's debt."
"...!"
The Berchef Count family, long responsible for guarding the empire's northern borders, was a stalwart house of frontier margraves.
The reason one had to refer to them in the past tense was because no one could have predicted the massive monster wave that breached their fortress and devastated their domain. The damage was beyond words.
Even after receiving support from neighboring nobles and selling off the rights of a rare golden imperial edict, they still had to borrow money from the Pellenberg family.
The interest alone on that colossal debt was a massive burden each year.
"...That's not something you can decide on your own."
"I am Fernan Pellenberg."
"But you are not Duke Pellenberg."
"Trust me. I never lie. I'll even put it in a contract, if you want."
"...Are you serious?"
"Yes. But there's one condition."
Of course. Ruina's expression instantly stiffened, as if to say, I knew it wasn't that simple.
"I knew it. It couldn't possibly be that convenient for me. What is it?"
"I want to sponsor you."
"…What do you mean by that?"
"Exactly what I said. I want to personally support you."
"I receive a full scholarship as the second-ranked student in the Academy."
"And everyone knows that, aside from your dorm room, you live more frugally than most commoners because you send most of that money to your family."
"..."
Ruina fell silent. She couldn't grasp Fernan's intent.
Her mouth was dry. She craved something sweet—like chocolate.
"…What are you trying to gain from this?"
"There's only one reason a merchant sponsors someone. Take it as a compliment—you have talent."
"That's not what I'm asking. I am the eldest daughter of House Berchef."
"Being a noble doesn't mean you can't be sponsored."
"Most sponsors aren't from families of equal status."
"That may have been true in the past, but aren't our families in the same boat now?"
"…Are you trying to insult me?"
Ruina's face hardened. The coldness in her eyes was beyond what he had imagined.
But Fernan was confident that Ruina Berchef would accept his proposal—no, he would make sure she did.
'Sorry, Ruina Berchef. But you are not Aint Armian.'
Her family's honor might be high, but they were no match for the former imperial family. And unlike them, her family was entangled in very real obligations.
"Frankly, I always rated Almon Donertz higher than you."
Almon Donertz. The top student in the second year of the Knight Faculty—whom Ruina Berchef had never once beaten.
"But I happened to see your swordsmanship recently. It was unspeakably beautiful, elegant, noble, and righteous."
"Flattery won't change my mind."
"I may not be a knight, but I'm a merchant who knows people. And you were a gem more valuable than any knight I've seen. Even more than Almon."
Fernian closed his eyes.
"That night, under the moonlight… your sword dance—I still can't forget it."
Strictly speaking, it was Aint who saw it.
In the future.
"…Under the moonlight? I haven't been out swinging my sword at night recently."
So it hasn't happened yet. Then again, Aint hadn't even entered the academy yet. All the better, then.
"I never said it was recent."
"You said 'not long ago.'"
"A year ago is still recent to me."
"…So you're saying you spied on my sword dance."
"Does that matter?"
"You're saying spying on someone's swordsmanship doesn't matter?"
At Ruina's furious reaction, her brows furrowing, Fernian stepped back slightly.
"…I'm sorry about that, but that's not really the point of this conversation, is it? If you want, I can even keep the sponsorship a secret."
"…Why go that far? What exactly do you gain from all this?"
"You. A talent like you."
Whatever she was thinking, a look of contempt slowly spread in Ruina's eyes.
"Don't tell me…"
"As a knight. That's all."
"…Are you expecting someone from House Berchef to swear loyalty to you?"
"I'm not asking for that. Just be my partner while we're in the academy."
The return on investment was small. He was basically being a sucker. But this was the best course.
To Fernan, Ruina was an idiot who clung to worthless things—chivalry, justice, and honor—things he saw as useless.
That's why it was necessary to bind her not with force, but with kindness and familiarity.
"Still…"
Of course.
"You know interest rates in the Empire recently went up, right?"
He didn't offer just carrots. Sucker. To a merchant, no word was more dangerous or to be feared than that.
"…Are you blackmailing me right now?"
"I'm a soft-hearted merchant. When my goodwill is rejected, I get hurt."
"…Soft-hearted? You?"
"Still, even though I'm ranked tenth, I'll prove I won't drag you down."
"Prove it?"
"You'll see soon enough. Now, make your choice."
In the end, Ruina had no choice but to accept.
That's how it works. A good merchant makes offers their opponent can't refuse.
Whether it's drenched in kindness or full of malice, it's the same.
"Welcome back, milady."
"Nanny."
Returning to her dorm, Ruina was greeted by the nanny who had followed her from her family home.
"So, how did it go…? What did that money-grubbing bastard who stood you up have to say?"
"Watch your mouth, Nanny. He's the heir of House Pellenberg."
"Right, right. And what did that high-and-mighty heir-bastard have to say?"
"For now, I just want to lie down."
Ruina threw herself onto the bed. She hadn't trained or swung her sword, yet her body felt completely drained.
It meant she'd expended that much mental energy.
"He said he saw potential in my sword dance."
At her quiet murmur, the nanny reacted.
"What could he possibly see in your sword dance?"
"Potential."
"Forgive me for not getting it…."
"He said my swordsmanship was elegant and beautiful. That he saw potential in that."
"So, that bastard spied on your training? And now he's trying to flirt with you using that? The nerve—he's got some eyes, I'll give him that! Don't tell me he threatened you with the debt too?"
Ruina chuckled at the quiet anger in her nanny's voice.
"Don't worry, Nanny. It's not what you think."
"Then what is it? Don't keep me in suspense—just tell me everything at once."
"You know in the second year, there are a lot of joint classes between the Knight Faculty and the Magic Faculty, right?"
"Of course. I'm an academy graduate too. Wait a minute… don't tell me—"
"You're right. He asked me to be his partner."
As she spoke calmly with her eyes closed, the nanny leapt to her feet.
"I knew it! That bastard has fallen for you and now he's trying some sleazy trick!"
"He didn't seem like that at all."
"What part of that proposal didn't give off that vibe?"
"He said he wouldn't charge interest for the duration of our time at the academy if I partnered with him."
The nanny's voice, which had been boiling with anger, suddenly quieted.
"If it's Fernan Pellenberg… he might actually be a decent match for you. He's rich, handsome…"
"Aren't you switching sides a bit too fast?"
"I didn't mean to, it just slipped out."
Clearing her throat, the nanny avoided Ruina's gaze and asked,
"Still, it's suspicious. Who do you think blocked the empire's support and forced your family into debt in the first place?"
"Saying he did it all for this is going too far, right?"
"He planned this for almost eight years just to be your partner? No way. It's definitely about the secret sword technique."
She might not have known why he switched directions so suddenly, but one thing was clear.
"…Anyway, I couldn't refuse."
Three years' worth of interest waived, personal sponsorship, a clause stating the sponsorship would remain confidential, and a condition that the contract would automatically dissolve upon graduation.
"The terms were just too good to say no to."
Ruina handed her the contract. The nanny carefully examined it and gave a firm nod.
"There's no hidden clause. Everything is overwhelmingly in your favor. Why would Fernan Pellenberg sign something like this? Is he really in love with you?"
"I told you, he said he saw potential in me."
"From spying on your sword dance?"
"He said he's a merchant who prides himself on reading people."
"Considering Fernan Pellenberg's reputation, it may not be a lie, but there are too many red flags. Especially the part about him suddenly giving up his claim to the secret sword technique—that's hard to believe."
"I agree with you, Nanny."
And yet…
"You're going to go through with it anyway?"
The nanny asked with certainty.
"The conditions are just too good. I just need to endure three years as his partner. Waiving the interest alone will help the family tremendously. And I've already signed."
The moment she signed the contract, Ruina made her decision.
"To be honest, I'd like to stop you. But if you've already made up your mind, I'll support you. Still, what worries me now is your grades. He might be ranked tenth, but compared to you, he's way behind…"
"He said he'd prove he's not lacking."
"Prove it? How?"
"That I don't know."
"What the hell is that money-obsessed freak scheming…"
"I'm wondering the same."
What exactly was he after, going so far as to give up a massive amount of money just to sponsor her and be her partner?
'Do I really have that much talent?'
She had never once thought she lacked talent—but aside from her parents and a few family members, no one had ever held her in such high regard.
More than anything, if he was willing to take this kind of risk, wouldn't it have made more sense for him to pursue Almon, the top student?
"...."
Whatever his true intentions were, it would be a lie to say she wasn't pleased to be recognized.
"Nanny."
"Yes, milady?"
"I should write a letter to Father."
"He'll be heartbroken. That you're sacrificing yourself for the family."
"This doesn't even count as a sacrifice. It's only right."
"Still, I think it's best to leave out the sponsorship part—just in case."
"Yeah."
"But what exactly does he mean by 'prove himself'?"
"Who knows."
Surely, he wasn't thinking of challenging her.
No way. His skills were nowhere near her level.
Ruina shook her head.
"Young master, are you certain about this?"
A question that carried many implications.
The scheme against House Berchef had been planned by none other than Duke Pellenberg himself. Though the Pellenbergs were a great family, they lacked expertise in swordsmanship compared to magic.
They had long coveted a superior sword technique, and the secret martial style of the Berchef border guardians, who had protected the empire's north for generations, looked especially enticing.
The Berchefs fell at the perfect moment, and the stage was set accordingly. The plan was just about to bear fruit.
"And I personally overturned that plan."
A sword technique of exceptional quality and a future Royal Knight in the making.
Unless the Pellenbergs were a sword-obsessed house, it wasn't worth losing the goodwill of someone destined for the Royal Knights. The Pellenbergs had far more valuable assets.
Not to mention his little act as a penniless noble.
The problem was, he was the only one who knew that, and there was no way to explain it.
"I'll write a letter to Father soon."
"And what will you say?"
"…Something. Anything."
"Well, you've already done it, so I won't question you further. But I wish you the best. I hope to serve you again—alive."
"…Leave."
"Yes, sir."
The attendant exited.
"How should I even begin to explain this?"
No matter how well he phrased it, he was in for a beating.
He could already picture his father clutching his neck and collapsing after reading the contract, screaming about catastrophic losses.
If he had a son who pulled something like this, he would've thrown him out for selling out the family over a woman.
"…I don't know. I'll think about it after a nap."
Clutching his throbbing head, Fernan collapsed onto the bed—choosing, for now, the easiest escape: sleep.