Ruvian walked down the quiet hallway toward his room. The hour was late, and most of the dormitory had already fallen into silence. He was only a few steps away from the bend that led to his room when a murmur, hushed but lively, slipped through the wall.
Then, he stopped walking.
The voices came from beyond the corner, loud enough to carry far but not nearly careful enough to be private. There was laughter in them, smug and indulgent.
“Did you see how she looked when they kicked her out?” A chuckle followed.
“I can't believe it. She sat in Noble Etiquette like it was her birthright. Truly, the delusion of commoners knows no bounds. Haa… It is almost endearing!”
Ruvian’s eyes narrowed slightly. He remained hidden, listening.
“Oh, I think Julian handled it well. He absolutely tore her apart, I swear, I thought she was going to cry when he asked her why she was even bothering.”
“He wasn’t wrong, though. She has no title or status. Why would she apply for this elective? That's beyond foolish!”
“She really thought the professor would defend her. But of course, even she sided with Julian. What noble would want to associate with a beggar commoner? She should know her place!”
“I think that poor thing's name is Violet, she's from Class E, she also stupidly tried to stand against Julian the other day during Class A and Class E joint sessions.”
They spoke as if they had witnessed an entertainment circus. Ruvian didn’t move until their presence was completely gone. When he finally stepped around the corner, his gaze was calm, almost absent, as though the entire exchange had left no impression. But there was a subtle tension in his hand, briefly curled into a fist at his side. He said nothing to the empty hallway, offered no closing words and walked the rest of the way to his room.
But in his mind, the thought remained.
The plush fabric of the rabbit doll was soft against Rosalin’s palm. She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the golden glow of the bedside lamp, and somehow, her mind was elsewhere, trapped in the events of today’s Noble Etiquette class. She had seen it coming the moment Violet opened her mouth.
The memory replayed in her head without permission...
The girl had risen from her seat with firmness, defiance.
“Your name?” Nᴇw novel chapters are publɪshed on 𝙣𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙡•𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚•𝙣𝙚𝙩
The girl had not hesitated. “Violet, from Class E.”
There was a pause from the professor. But her expression didn’t change, but Rosalin knew the moment she glanced at the roster that something was wrong.
“There is no registration under that name.”
Rosalin, seated near the middle of the class, had kept her gaze carefully neutral. Even without looking directly, she could feel the unspoken reactions of the other students. Some were confused, others amused.
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The professor’s voice was cold. “I do not teach those who are not registered for my class. Leave,” she commanded.
'What? What's going on here? There's no way she would come into this elective if she hadn't applied for one.'
Rosalin had seen many dismissals before, but this one felt particularly cruel in its indifference.
Violet did not move but her amethyst eyes burned with frustration. “That’s a mistake. I registered for this elective. If you check with the higher administration, you’ll see—”
The professor did not even let her finish. “I will not be questioning the system for your sake, Miss Violet.”
‘Tch. She didn’t even give her the chance, just an outright refusal.’ Rosalin’s thought.
She exhaled slowly, sensing what was coming before it even happened. The moment she heard that low, amused chuckle, she knew he was about to cut someone down.
“Look what we have here. It’s not every day you get to witness such audacity firsthand.” Julian spoke clearly, never raising his voice, but every word was pressuring. Rosalin glanced at Violet, who had stiffened from a quiet laugh from one of the students.
“Again. How bold of you, demanding an exception when you have no place here to begin with.” The words sliced deeper than any outright insult could. Rosalin felt the atmosphere of the classroom’s judgment settle in the air, a mixture of amusement, condescension, and detachment. No one openly sneered, but their silence was just as damning!
‘What should I do? What can I say here?’ Rosalin was never good with words, she wished she could defend for that girl's sake but she didn't have the ability to do so. All she was good at was how to fight with blades.
But what surprised Rosalin the most was Violet’s reaction. She did not snap back in anger, nor did she make a scene. Instead, her fingers clenched against the fabric of her uniform, her knuckles white.
The voices rose like a wave, one after another, crashing against the lone figure standing at the center of ridicule.
“Just leave already!”
“You’re holding up the class!”
“This isn’t your place, don’t you get it? Get lost now!”
“Know your place, you commoner!”
Rosalin remained seated, her grip tightening on the edge of her sleeve, watching as the scholars spoke with ease, as though it was their right to cast her out.
Why? Was it wrong for a commoner to attend a Noble Etiquette class? Was there really a need for such distinction? Somehow, she was furious with this.
The moment Julian made his stance clear, the rest followed. Violet stood still in the face of their hostility, her posture sinking lower. Her dark hair fell over her face, veiling what lay beneath, but Rosalin saw the faint tremor in her shoulders, the slight gleaming and shaken in her eyes.
Julian tilted his head, as though considering something. Then, with that same polished cruelty, he delivered the final blow. “Are you deaf?” He said with effortless authority, the room hanging on his words.
“Get out. Or shall I be the one to escort you?”
A hush swept through the scholars.
They wanted her to break. But Violet did not lash out until the end. Instead, she lowered her head, then, in a voice that was stripped of its former defiance, she sighed and then spoke. “My apologies, Professor. I’ve caused an unnecessary scene.” She bowed not to Julian, not to the scholars, but to the professor, the one whose decision was absolute.
Without another word, she turned and walked away. The doors closed behind her, and with that, Violet ceased to exist in that hall.
The professor, as though none of it mattered, simply said, “She should have done that sooner.” Then, with a flick of her hand, she resumed the lecture, the class moving on as if nothing had happened.
Rosalin turned her gaze to Julian, and at that moment, he met her eyes. For a moment, neither spoke. But instead of looking away, Rosalin held his gaze.
‘So, this is the so-called Julian Rozenberg?’
Rosalin clenched her rabbit doll against her chest, her fingers digging into the soft fabric. Anger burned inside her, not just at Julian, but at everyone who had laughed, jeered, remained silent.
She wanted to speak. To rebut. To say something, anything. But she knew. There was no place for opposition. Not when even the professor had turned against her. Not when everyone had stood behind Julian, and that realization, that helplessness infuriated her.
She hated the feeling of not being able to do anything. ‘In the end, I’m not strong enough yet. It seems like I couldn't master my courage in terms of speaking for what's right and what’s wrong.’
Then, suddenly she remembered the previous event during the joint-session with Class E.
A dark-haired boy who stood up confidently and challenged the instructor head-on and alone. Rosalin had admired him deeply. In her eyes, he radiated a strength far beyond brute or title. And when she learned he was from Class E—of all places—it had struck her even harder. (+50PP)
That moment, and today’s event, carved a lesson into her heart: true strength was not born from power or status. It came from beliefs... the will to stand for what was right, and what was wrong even when you stood alone. That was the strength she longed for. The strength she vowed to seek, to learn, and one day, to embody.