Anna transferred into Second Year Class A, where Ophelia was, and after delivering a pre-prepared self-introduction, she obediently took the seat in front of Ophelia, following the silent direction of her gaze.
Pulling out the textbook she had prepared in advance from the desk compartment, Anna flipped through it.
The content was the same as before—she had seen it all, just almost forgotten.
She was never good at memorization, but Magic was a subject that relied heavily on rote learning.
Turning a page, she stared at those arcane Magic Spells with a troubled expression; flipping another, she saw the dense explanations of the underlying principles, and suddenly felt a pressure rising in her temples.
She didn’t even need a mirror to know how distorted her face must look.
The White-bearded Old Man on stage lectured in a way that made people sleepy.
He often started with a few words before drifting off into endless “reminiscences of the old days,” telling stories whose truthfulness was anyone’s guess.
If people had tails, that old man’s tail would surely be higher than his pointed hat.
Anna’s gaze swept across her classmates—the noble young masters and young ladies who rarely ventured outside their gates—all listening with rapt interest to the old man’s half-true, half-fake, half-exaggerated tales.
Anna propped her chin on her hand, trying to pass the time, and started to listen too.
But soon her brows furrowed again.
Ugh, this old man really knows how to paint himself in golden light.
Her thoughts drifted back three years, to the battle where they had breached a fortified fortress of the Demon King’s Army.
In her memory, no such White-bearded Old Man was ever present at the front lines.
It was a tough day—they were helpless against a fortress as solid as metal, shielded by Magic Circles.
A brave scout had sacrificed his life to locate the giant Magic Crystal that powered the Magic Circle, and a young mage had destroyed it with Burst Magic from an extremely close range.
Only then could they seize the chance to storm the fortress.
Anna remembered every face at the front line.
They stood in the long corridor of her memories, but conspicuously absent was that old, white-bearded face.
He was lying.
He had twisted the stories of that scout and young mage to fit himself, stirring the students’ admiration and enthusiasm.
But Anna only felt cold—that cold climbing up her spine and piercing straight through to her heart.
Her hands clenched into fists uncontrollably.
She wanted to stand and denounce the old man’s shameless lies, but the fire burning at the imprint on her lower abdomen drove away the chill in her heart—Ophelia was using the Imprint to forcibly control her will.
One side was bone-chilling cold; the other, scorching hot.
Anna felt as if she were torn in two.
One half was buried beneath the Demon King’s Castle along with that Broken Sword; the other was sitting here in class, alongside the villainous master who had descended from the heavens.
The remaining half didn’t even have the right to argue for the lost half.
She had long since lost the right to speak.
She felt like that Orange Cat walking along the walltop—its body still recognizing the human voice that often accompanied it, yet when it approached, the scent was completely different.
Orange cats don’t think too much.
Faced with a past both strange and familiar, it would just arch its back and hiss.
But Anna couldn’t.
She couldn’t even fully control her own body with her will.
She just wanted to vomit.
It was a deep, visceral nausea she couldn’t bear.
Fortunately, the class wasn’t long, and the White-bearded Old Man soon wrapped up his ramblings.
Anna shakily got to her feet and headed for the Corridor, hoping for some peace.
But the moment she left her seat, Ophelia grabbed her wrist.
Anna turned back to see displeasure already painted on Ophelia’s face.
No matter what, fine—she could accept punishment later.
For now, Anna just wanted a moment of quiet.
“Anna, sit back down.”
Ophelia’s voice was as cold as ice.
Anna clenched the burning heat rising from her lower abdomen and suddenly sat back down, but turned her face backward, staring fixedly into those blue eyes.
“Ophelia… miss,” she said with difficulty, “I want to be alone.”
“Not allowed. Sit back down.”
“Ophelia, miss!”
“Didn’t you hear me? That’s an order.”
“Y-yes…”
Anna felt as if her heart were roasting over a fire, blood oozing from the wound in her chest, dripping into the flames with a sizzling sound.
In the end, she couldn’t defy Ophelia’s order.
She turned back, curling into herself, burying her face in the shadows cast by her crossed arms.
She counted the mosaic flowers on the floor tiles, sniffed, and forced the tears back into her eyes, as if that tiny effort could extinguish the fire burning in her soul.
She knew it was pointless, but what else could she do to comfort herself?
After all, she wasn’t even allowed to go out into the Corridor to get some air.
Anna’s heart ached the entire day.
Until dusk fell and the Bell of Dusk echoed across the vast Campus, marking the end of the day’s studies, she hadn’t once gone against Ophelia.
She played the role Ophelia expected—an utterly obedient Loyal Hound, never leaving her side.
When Ophelia didn’t need her, she kept silent; when Ophelia needed her, she stepped up and fulfilled her every demand.
They walked one after the other in the shadowy Corridor, moonlight filtering through the gaps between tree shadows and softly lighting her face, bit by bit.
In the distance, the dormitories flickered with scattered lights as students hurried past, eager to return to their rooms.
Ophelia deliberately slowed her steps until the Corridor had almost emptied, then suddenly stopped and spun on her heel, colliding noses with the hastily halted Anna.
Anna felt a sour sting in her nose, like she had just bitten into a half-ripe lemon.
“Anna.”
“I’m here.”
Ophelia’s hand hovered midair, gently hooking Anna’s wrist, showing the bruised back of her hand.
Anna obediently half-knelt, kissing that outstretched hand—from fingertips to knuckles, from knuckles to joints, from joints to the back of the hand.
Is this the punishment? Anna resignedly closed her eyes, waiting for a slap or some other punishment.
But when she timidly opened them, no slap came.
The hand she kissed turned over, softly scratching her chin like coaxing a small cat.
Ophelia’s wrist pressed tightly against her jawbone, and through the pulse she could feel the beating of Ophelia’s heart.
“Ophelia… miss?”
“Anna.”
Suddenly, Ophelia opened her arms and pulled the unprepared Anna into an embrace.
The sudden warmth left Anna momentarily bewildered.
Her hands trembled at her sides, and she was lost.
The last time Ophelia showed such tenderness was that night of the Forget-me-not Lily, when Ophelia had forcefully claimed her.
“Daytime was unbearable, wasn’t it?”
“No, I…”
Anna instinctively closed her eyes, thinking this was the prelude to a reckoning.
“I saw everything. Your trembling shoulders, clenched fists, bowed head, and falling tears—I saw it all clearly.”
“Then why—”
Ophelia’s words seemed to pluck at the tightly stretched string deep in Anna’s heart.
Anna tried to lift her head, but Ophelia’s hands locked tightly around her nape.
She felt herself drowning in this tide of fluctuating emotions.
“If I didn’t order you, you would’ve run out to argue with the professor, right?”
“I…”
“I never thought so.” Those words stuck in Anna’s throat.
She tried to argue, but lowered her head, silent.
Indeed, she just wanted to go to the Corridor to blow off some steam, but if she met that old man who hadn’t left yet? Could she really guarantee not to argue heatedly?
Knowing herself, she probably would.
That fame-hungry old man trampled on the most fragile part of her heart.
She would definitely defend the last pure piece of land inside her.
“You belong to me. Don’t cause me trouble. Likewise, I won’t let anyone cause trouble for you.”
Ophelia lifted Anna’s chin and pressed a vow-like kiss on her lips.
It was like a promise, and like a declaration.
Like a king summoning his vassal, the vassal pledging loyalty, and the king protecting his people.
“Also, as a noble, I will never tolerate fame-hungry scoundrels polluting the Magic Hall. I think tomorrow we’ll hear a thorough self-criticism from that professor. Otherwise, maybe we won’t see him again.”
Ophelia’s fingertip gently wiped away the tear at Anna’s eye corner, as if caring for a rare, precious treasure.
Anna’s heart trembled.
If her heart could cry, her chest would already be drenched in heavy rain.
Ophelia… was comforting her?
Though clumsy in her way, Anna could clearly feel the faint warmth hiding beneath the grand words.
She felt the mountain on her shoulders crumble a little, sending shards tumbling down.
The vine called Dependence seeped through the cracks left by the collapse.
She suddenly realized the heavy stone she thought was crushing her had partly transformed into dependence.
She actually… had begun to depend on Ophelia just a little?
How could she… depend on the one who controlled her with the Oath of Dependence?