Class was over.
The professor wrote the final sentence on the blackboard, and the sound of him setting down the chalk followed. The entire lecture hall began to move at once. The sound of notebooks closing, chairs scraping, someone sneezing.
Minjun did not move.
With his notebook half-closed, he was looking at Lucian von Reisen’s back. More precisely, at the left shoulder of that back. Lucian had not looked behind him once throughout the entire class. After dropping his question about guild theory, he had written down the professor’s answer, and after that he had been quiet. As if he had thrown a bomb and nothing had happened.
‘Is that the crown prince’s usual pattern, or is it just today?’
He couldn’t tell. He had no knowledge of the original work. He remembered the name Lucian von Reisen—remembered that the novel was titled *Light of the Saintess* and that the protagonist was Chloe Armand—but he did not remember what role the crown prince played.
‘A supporting character? A major variable?’
Minjun closed his notebook completely.
If you don’t know, you observe. You observe and identify patterns. That was the only thing twelve years of overtime had taught him.
The lecture hall was almost empty. Minjun slowly rose. There was no reason to hurry. If he went out toward the door first, the chances of running into someone in the hallway would increase. Students within Ester’s sphere of influence might be waiting. Or perhaps another probing contact.
That was why he had chosen the seat at the far right of the second row. It was close to the exit, but also a position from which he could leave last.
Just as Minjun picked up his bag—
“Lady Ester.”
It was a voice. Low and even. A tone that made it impossible to tell whether it was a question or a summons.
Minjun raised his head.
Lucian von Reisen was standing in the middle of the lecture hall aisle. Which meant he had walked over from the third row. He had moved while Minjun was picking up his bag. Minjun hadn’t noticed.
‘An unreadable variable moved first.’
Lucian was about half a hand taller than Minjun. He was blond. He looked every inch of royal blood. His gaze—Minjun tried to classify that gaze. It was not hostile. But it was not friendly either. It was analytical. The eyes of someone trying to read the other person.
‘That’s the look I saw during meetings with the department head. The type who wants information, but checks the other person’s reaction before asking directly.’
Minjun stopped with his hand on the strap of his bag.
On the outside, he was Isabel von Ester. Silver hair, red eyes, a cold-blooded noble young lady. How someone like her would react when the crown prince spoke to her first—how Isabel would have acted—he had no memory of it.
If there was nothing, he would go with the default.
“Your Highness.”
Minjun’s voice was even. He used an honorific, but he did not lower himself. It was the bare minimum courtesy that a young lady of House Ester could use toward the crown prince. Nothing more, nothing less.
Lucian laughed briefly. Rather than a laugh, it was more like the corner of his mouth had risen by half a centimeter.
“You had no questions during class.”
“No.”
“Is there a reason?”
Minjun thought for 0.3 seconds.
‘He’s asking why I had no questions. Is this—does he want to confirm my stance on the guild theory matter? Or is he simply trying to understand me as a person?’
“It is more efficient to listen while the professor is explaining.”
The corner of Lucian’s mouth returned to its original position.
“I see. What do you think of guild theory?”
It was a direct question. He did not go around it.
Minjun looked at Lucian. Lucian looked at Minjun. There were now only the two of them in the lecture hall. The last student leaving paused briefly by the door, then disappeared quickly.
‘He wants to see how Lady Ester answers when the crown prince asks directly. Confirmation of political positioning. Support for guild theory or support for academy theory—the academy is directly under the royal family, so support for guild theory could be read as rebellion against the royal family. But I don’t know which side House Ester is on.’
He did not know.
He had no memories of Isabel. Where House Ester stood politically, what its relationship was with the crown prince—nothing.
‘If I answer without information, I’ll be wrong. If I’m wrong, House Ester will have a problem. But if I stay silent—silence is an answer too. I’ve already learned that.’
Minjun shifted his gaze toward the window, then brought it back. 0.8 seconds.
“What is necessary for a magic circle to activate is conditions, not theory.”
Lucian paused.
“If the theories differ, the interpretation of the conditions changes.”
“Even if the interpretation differs, if the magic circle activates, then it is correct.”
Lucian looked at Minjun for a moment. About two seconds. Minjun did not avert his eyes. If he looked away, it would seem as if he had lost. That was also something he had learned during overtime. If you avoid your superior’s eyes, you look unconfident. If you look unconfident, more questions come.
“You’re a pragmatist.”
“No.”
Lucian raised an eyebrow slightly.
“Then?”
“I’m not interested.”
In politics. In guild theory. In which side was correct.
Minjun did not say all of that. If he had, he would have given away too much. Information should be given only as needed. It was better to let the other party fill in the blanks.
This time, Lucian actually smiled. Not half a centimeter—the corner of his mouth rose properly.
“You’re interesting.”
“Thank you.”
“That may not have been a compliment.”
“I am aware.”
Lucian looked at Minjun once more. Minjun could not read what that gaze was searching for. He tried, but Lucian was the type who gave no information. The type who only received it. A type even higher up than the department head.
‘This is executive level. Executive level requires a different approach.’
“There will be practical training in the next class.”
Lucian spoke. The topic had changed.
Minjun’s hand tightened on the strap of his bag. Outwardly, it was nothing.
‘Practical training.’
“I am aware.”
He said he was aware, but in truth, he had only just heard it for the first time. He had not read the syllabus. It was folded inside his bag. Exactly as it had been on the day he received it.
‘I need to read it tonight. No, I need to read it right now. I don’t even know when the practical training is.’
“What is your attribute, Lady Ester?”
Minjun’s lungs stopped for one beat. To avoid letting that show, he slowly exhaled. Through his nose. Without a sound.
‘Why is that question coming up? If she’s from a noble house, is her attribute already publicly known information? Does the crown prince know and is he confirming it? Or is he asking because he doesn’t know?’
Either way, Minjun could not answer.
He did not know Isabel von Ester’s attribute.
“Why does Your Highness ask?”
He asked in return. It was better to throw the question back than to answer without information. First, he had to determine the intent behind the other party’s question. That was not something he had learned from meetings with the department head—it was older than that. Something he had naturally picked up while conversing with people.
Lucian seemed to think for a moment.
“Because of the practical training group assignments. Attribute combinations are important.”
“Doesn’t the professor decide those?”
“I want to understand them in advance.”
‘Why?’
Minjun did not voice the question. The reason Lucian was interested in the practical training groups. Whether it was simply academic interest or something else—rather than suspending judgment, he decided to push with silence.
“House Ester does not circulate attribute information publicly.”
He did not know whether that was true. It seemed likely. He guessed that a noble house would be that way. If it was wrong, Lucian would react. If he reacted, Minjun would know.
Lucian did not react.
‘Either it was true, or even if it was wrong, he judged that there was no reason to correct it right now.’
Lucian looked at Minjun. This time for longer. Three seconds.
“I see.”
He did not ask further.
‘He backed off. That means he decided not to push any further past this line. I don’t know why.’
Minjun waited for Lucian to turn away. Lucian did not turn away.
“I heard you ran into Lady Armand on the stairs.”
Minjun’s fingertips stilled.
The rumor had reached the crown prince’s ears.
‘How fast is this?’
It had not even been a day. The encounter on the stairs had been yesterday. Before morning classes had even ended today, Lucian already knew. He had thought it was fast when the male student from Ester’s sphere of influence had come to probe him—but there was an even faster route than that.
‘If information circulates this quickly, House Ester’s internal information may be at risk as well.’
While Minjun thought this, his expression did not change. Not his fingertips, not his breathing, not his gaze. He trapped everything inside the exterior of a ninth-year employee.
Lucian kept looking at him. Four seconds.
“Chloe Armand.”
Lucian explained. In a tone that suggested he thought Minjun might want to know who she was. Or a tone that suggested he believed he had an obligation to tell him.
“I know.”
“Then why were you there?”
This question was different. It belonged to a different layer than the previous questions. It was not information gathering—it was closer to surveillance.
Minjun tried to think once more, but too much time had already passed. An extended silence also gave away information.
“It was a coincidence.”
“A coincidence.”
Lucian repeated it. There was no suspicion in his tone. It was a tone of confirmation. Like someone who already knew the answer and was waiting for that answer to come from the other person’s mouth.
“It was a coincidence that she nearly fell on the stairs, and it was a coincidence that Lady Ester caught her.”
“That is correct.”
He did not press any further.
Instead, Lucian turned toward the lecture hall window. The angle of the sunlight illuminated that side brightly. The campus was visible beyond the window.
As Lucian turned, the line of his shoulders became clearly defined. The shoulder line of his uniform followed that curve. One shoulder caught the window light, drawing a slender and precise line. Maintaining that posture, Lucian spoke.
“Light gathered above Lady Armand’s collarbone.”
Lucian spoke without looking at Minjun.
Minjun tried to grasp the meaning of that sentence. Was this information? A statement? Or something else?
“The sunlight on the stairs came down along Lady Armand’s neckline and gathered above her collarbone. That area alone was exceptionally bright.”
There was a point where the uniform collar opened. The boundary where the neck became the collarbone. That must have been what Lucian had seen. When the sunlight slid down along the curve of her neck and reached her collarbone, it must have lingered for a moment in that hollow. As if the light itself flowed along her collarbone, as if it illuminated the path from her neck toward her chest.
Minjun imagined it. He did not want to imagine it, but he did.
“I imagine Lady Ester saw it too.”
Lucian said. Now he was looking at Minjun again. His golden eyes found Minjun’s first. Lucian’s neckline formed a precise angle with the window light. The way his neckline lengthened when he turned his head. There was something that could only be seen from that angle. The line connecting his neck to his shoulder. Depending on the angle at which the light fell, the depth of that line changed. Lucian was not conscious of it. Minjun was. The fact that he was conscious of it was the problem.
“I think you saw it.”
Minjun did not answer.
“That is why I’m curious.”
Lucian’s voice sank lower. Nearly to the level of a whisper.
“What did Lady Ester see?”
Minjun’s mouth went dry. As if his salivary glands had stopped. An unresponsive physiological reaction. A phenomenon that appeared when emotions reached their peak.
From the center of his throat up to his face, Minjun felt the blood rushing in. A flush. A bodily reaction that made it impossible to hide an emotional peak.
It was regrettable. Regrettable, but there was no stopping what was happening.