“Ugh….”
Vanitas groggily stirred in bed, rubbing his eyes as the morning light spilled through the curtains.
His white collared vest was loosely buttoned, exposing part of his bare chest. His wavy bangs, which were normally parted, had fallen over his eyes. His hair was getting long.
As he pushed himself upright, he noticed something unusual beneath the covers.
“Uh…?”
He slowly pulled the sheets back.
And froze.
“….”
Margaret lay beside him, sound asleep. She looked peaceful with her chest rising and falling with every breath. She wore a white nightgown, though the strap had slipped slightly off her shoulder due to… two very noticeable features Vanitas refused to name.
“….”
His mind blanked.
What the hell happened last night?
He remembered being dropped off by Franz. Walking through the gates. Entering the manor.
After that, everything was a blur.
“The fuck happened….”
A ridiculous thought surged through his mind.
“….”
His vest was loose.
“….”
Margaret was here.
“….”
They were sharing the same bed.
“There’s no way….”
He pressed a hand to his forehead.
No, no, no. He would’ve definitely remembered something like that if it ever happened.
Right?
Before he could spiral further, Margaret stirred beside him. She let out a soft yawn, her eyes fluttering halfway open.
“….”
She looked at him and blinked. Once, then twice. The two stared at each other momentarily while only blinking their eyes as Margaret’s face gradually turned a shade of red.
“N-Nothing happened… right?” she asked, clearly flustered.
“That’s what I’d like to ask you,” Vanitas replied.
Margaret quickly looked down, adjusting her strap and clearing her throat before rising to her feet.
“I… I think I fell asleep while waiting for you to sleep,” she said.
“And why were you waiting for me to sleep?” he asked. “You could’ve just left me alone.”
“B-Because you asked me to!”
“I don’t recall,” Vanitas muttered. “I may have been drunk, but I shouldn’t be that pathetic.”
“P-Pathetic…?” Margaret echoed, feeling scandalized. “Gosh! You should’ve seen yourself!”
“Now this is just baseless slander, Margaret. But that’s not the point, nothing happened here, right?”
“N-No… I don’t think so. Nothing in my body hurts… if something did happen…”
“Then that’s that,” Vanitas said, cutting her off. “Leave as discreetly as possible. We don’t need any wandering eyes catching you coming out of here. A scandal might ensue, so—”
“I got it!” she blurted, cheeks still burning as she quickly made her way to the door. She looked left, then right.
Realizing the coast was clear, Margaret discreetly slid her way out of the room.
“Haaa….”
Vanitas sighed and shook his head, rubbing his temple. But the headache wasn’t the worst part.
If Margaret was telling the truth… then what kind of embarrassing things had he said in his drunken state?
“What the hell did I even say…?” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. Just the thought of it made a shiver run down his spine.
He hadn’t planned to get that drunk.
Franz had likely laced the drinks to loosen his tongue, ensuring Vanitas would “relax” during their night out.
He might’ve shown a side of himself he didn’t want anyone to see.
“This… fucking—”
* * *
Margaret stood beneath the shower, her head lowered as water streamed down her back.
“Gosh…” she muttered, feeling her face heating even under the cold spray.
She couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened that morning.
The Head Maid had seen her coming out of Vanitas’s room.
Mortified, Margaret had begged her not to speak a word of it. She insisted it was under the master’s command, that nothing happened.
But the look the Head Maid gave her told Margaret enough.
She definitely didn’t buy it!
It was only a matter of time before rumors started circulating around the estate. Talks about their master, Vanitas, and Margaret Illenia, were secretly in a relationship.
With Vanitas rejecting every engagement proposal, it would definitely give the wrong idea that Vanitas had been rejecting them all because of her!
And if word reached the Order?
She’d be judged for seducing a High Noble without question!
“I need to fix this,” she groaned.
And in her panic, Margaret started banging her head lightly against the shower wall.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
“Aaaaahh!”
After her dramatic episode, she stepped out, dried herself off, and dressed quickly.
There was no time to dwell on humiliation, she had work to do.
As the Knight responsible for overseeing all matters regarding the Illenia Order, Margaret’s role extended far beyond personal security.
Her duties included conducting monthly inspections across all Astrea domains to ensure order, discipline, and proper administration.
When the Astrea siblings were occupied with affairs that didn’t require a knight’s presence, Margaret would seize those moments to carry out her responsibilities.
Today was one of those days.
And thank the heavens for it, because she desperately needed a distraction.
“Aaaaaah—”
But in any case, there was one question that lingered in her mind.
“Who….”
Who the hell was Minjeong?
* * *
“That is all for my report, Lord Vanitas,” said the intelligence officer, Birmingham, bowing respectfully.
Vanitas remained silent for a moment, pondering the information he had just received.
“A clergyman, huh?” he murmured, rubbing his chin. “What did you say his name was?”
“Ester Bartholomew, sir.”
“I see.”
It was true, the church had become a problem.
Not the faith itself, but the worms that had burrowed deep into its core. Those who had slowly twisted its doctrines under the watchful eyes of the popes, converting belief into manipulation.
This meant the Araxys had deeply embedded themselves within the Holy Church of Lumine.
But in actuality, the truth was that the Araxys had originated from within the Church itself.
Not all believers were corrupt, of course.
Take Cardinal Nietzsche, for instance. Despite being raised within the Church after being adopted by the pope, he had never been a religious man.
That was due, in part, to his second persona, Izza, who had planted in him the conviction that religion was nothing more than an elaborate farce.
And yet, ironically, it was that very religion that had led him to the Saintess, Selena.
Call it love, or something else entirely. It didn’t matter.
What deeply unsettled Vanitas was that someone in this world who bore the face of Eun-ah, existed. And yet Vanitas couldn’t bring himself to get close to her.
“Continue investigating and make sure Elsa doesn’t get involved anymore.”
“Understood, Lord Vanitas.”
With that, the two split off in separate directions. Vanitas made his way to the University Tower, only to be greeted by a familiar voice.
——Professor!
He turned slightly, tilting his head. “Hm?”
“I… If I could make a selfish request…”
“Speak.”
“Could you… evaluate my speech?” Astrid asked quickly. “Perhaps offer a few pointers, areas I can improve, my tone, my facial expressions, my posture, and—”
“Come to my office.”
Astrid blinked, momentarily stunned. But as Vanitas turned and walked ahead, a smile broke across her face and she clenched her fist in victory.
She had debated asking him for days.
Her campaign team had reviewed the speech over and over and declared it perfect each time.
But that wasn’t what she was looking for.
She didn’t want validation. She wanted criticism. She wanted someone who would point out the cracks and flaws, no matter how small.
And who better to ask than Professor Vanitas, someone who never blurred the lines between personal and professional judgment?
Inside his office, Vanitas didn’t sit on the couch as one normally would. Instead, he perched atop the backrest with his arms folded.
He glanced her way as she entered.
“Start,” he said.
“Ah, uh… right now?”
“You’re not meant to be comfortable in the first place.”
Astrid straightened instinctively. “R-Right.”
Taking her position near the door, she drew a slow breath and began.
“Greetings to all my fellow students, esteemed faculty, and respected members of the academy.”
Her voice rang clear, carrying the cadence of someone who had rehearsed countless times.
“I stand before you not just as a candidate, but as a student. Someone who has walked these halls, struggled through its expectations, and grown under its guidance—”
“You’ve already failed.”
“W-What?” Astrid blinked, visibly stunned.
“You’re trying to present yourself as their equal. But that’s impossible.”
“….”
She stared at him, confused.
“Before a student, you’re a princess. A member of the Imperial Family, Astrid. No matter how much you try to humble yourself, no one will ever see you on equal footing with them.”
“….”
Astrid’s lips parted, but no words came.
“You can’t speak as one of them,” Vanitas continued. “They won’t buy it.”
She lowered her gaze. “Then… what should I do?”
“Speak from where you actually stand,” he said. “You carry the Aetherion name. Use it to your advantage.”
“But if I do that… won’t it sound like I’m asserting dominance?”
“Only if you say it with the intention to dominate,” Vanitas replied. “What you need to do is lead. People follow strength, not empty humility. Be honest. Speak as you. Not as a student, not as a figurehead, but as Astrid Barielle Aetherion.”
Astrid clenched her fists slightly, already revising the introductory portion in her head.
“….Again?”
Vanitas gave a small nod. “Go ahead.”
“Keum.”
Astrid cleared her throat, straightened her posture, and began once more.
“Fellow students of the academy. I am Astrid Barielle Aetherion, daughter of the Imperial Family, and a candidate for the next student council president.”
Vanitas leaned slightly forward, listening as Astrid spoke with grace and elegance.
“I will not pretend to be the same as you. My upbringing was different. My path was different. But that difference is exactly what I bring to the table.”
Vanitas nodded. This was much better. Anyone could preach humility, and most probably did. It was a common, predictable approach, and a boring introduction.
But Astrid’s lineage was something no other candidate could hope to replicate.
By owning that distinction rather than downplaying it, she had already taken a decisive step ahead of the others.
The fact of the matter was simple. Franz was not fit to lead the Empire. And Irene would be an even greater disaster if she ever inherited the throne.
That left Astrid.
She was still young and inexperienced. But with the right guidance, she could become something the Empire desperately needed in the future.
But therein lay the problem.
Astrid, for all her strength and boldness, was still too idealistic.
She believed that conviction alone could carry her through politics. That sincerity could win loyalty. That truth could inspire unity. But the Empire didn’t need a leader who knew how to grovel on their knees.
It needed someone who could remain clear-eyed under pressure.
Someone who could make the right decision even when emotions screamed for the wrong one.
“….”
Vanitas narrowed his eyes slightly, watching Astrid.
She had potential. But potential was meaningless without temperament.
Of course, a leader had to listen to the voices of the people. That was a given.
But listening and obeying were two different things.
The first earned trust. The second invited manipulation.
And Astrid had yet to learn that distinction.
“I understand what it means to be born into privilege. But privilege is not immunity. I have seen the flaws in our system and the struggles many endure. And I no longer wish to observe from afar—”
“You failed again.”
“Eh—A-Ah?” Astrid stammered, caught off guard.
“Your tone softened. You hesitated before your last line. You’re still trying to be accepted.”
Astrid’s brows furrowed. “But… isn’t that what empathy is for? To bridge the gap?”
“Empathy is not begging,” he said. “You don’t bridge gaps by apologizing for who you are. You do it by standing firm in who you are, and proving why you deserve to be heard.”
“I wasn’t begging—”
“You were,” Vanitas cut in. “You said you didn’t want to observe from afar. That’s a line for someone watching from a balcony, not someone ready to lead from the front.”
“….”
Astrid fell silent. She thought back to the script she had so carefully written.
She had barely even finished the first-half of her speech.
“I… I do not wish to sound like a tyrant,” she murmured.
“Who said you were supposed to sound like a tyrant?” Vanitas asked, his brows lifting slightly.
She looked at him, feeling uncertainty in her chest.
“Tyrants command through fear alone,” Vanitas began. “Leaders command through clarity, presence, and sheer-will. The moment you start confusing decisiveness with oppression, you’ve already lost control of your image.”
Astrid bit her lower lip. “But if I don’t soften my words, if I speak plainly, won’t that alienate people?”
Vanitas stepped toward her, golden eyes meeting amethyst.
“Alienate the ones who only want you when you’re weak,” he said. “Keep the ones who’ll follow you when you’re strong.”
Silence lingered between them.
Then he added, more softly, “Your strength won’t come from how gently you speak. It will come from whether or not people believe you’ll still act when speaking fails.”
Astrid took a breath as she glanced at her crumpled speech on the table.
“Is my speech that… bad?” she asked.
Vanitas didn’t hesitate.
“It’s utter garbage.”
* * *
“I thought you didn’t want to see me.”
“What gave you that impression, dear sister?” Franz replied with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
Irene had been summoned for a dress fitting. As the groom-to-be, Franz insisted his younger sister look her best at the wedding. Astrid had already completed her fitting earlier that week.
“You…” she started, voice faltering.
Franz tilted his head slightly, his deep crimson eyes gleaming with that familiar glint, one that made Irene’s stomach twist.
That look.
The same one that had haunted her childhood.
The one she could never forget.
“What is it?” he asked gently.
Irene’s fingers curled tightly into the fabric of her skirt, reminiscing the torment she had experienced when she was just a little girl.
“…Nothing.”
Franz stepped closer, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from her shoulder.
“You’ve always been a bit dramatic, haven’t you?” he said. “I simply want my family present on the most important day of my life.”
She didn’t answer.