The students of the academy

I am Elnesta. Third daughter of the baronial family of Tool.

At present, I am a fourth-year student in the academy’s liberal arts division, devoting myself to study.

In the first month of summer, a new companion joined our class.

She introduced herself as Lady Stella, elder sister to my idol, Spica.

She had violet eyes, short light blonde hair, and a carefree smile—delightfully charming.

During orientation, her responses were plain in phrasing, unmistakably common-born, yet delivered with crisp clarity, which won us all over.

She revealed to me the hidden side of a woman once praised as a flawless lady, the one whose beauty inspired operatic performances.

I know her life well—she was once hailed as a miracle lady, her image immortalized in song and stage. Yet, even after returning to her noble home, she endured cruelty from her step-sister.

Spica was regarded as a paragon of virtue—so pure and universally kind that she seemed a saintly figure in song and story. To be betrayed by her, after all, was a wound that cut deep.

After orientation, Stella rushed to Spica’s side, trembling with fear of being scolded. It was pitiful enough already, but the way she was reprimanded over the explanation of the locker’s key—accused of misusing sacred power—was unbearable. To treat a force that neither noble nor servant could wield as if it were common knowledge, as if one should simply know how to use it—was that not the height of cruelty? And then, to deliberately hide Stella’s treasured bracelet, to cause such a commotion…

My admiration for her had been nothing more than a gilded surface. I had not known, for we had not spoken deeply before. But if she treated servants in this same manner, I shudder to think what she might have done.

You possess the exclusive sense of divine favor peculiar to high-born nobles—those who see no one else as truly human… It must have been skillfully concealed until now…

My family, though noble, ranks quite low; we are especially sensitive to such disdain. I am astonished by the cunning with which such attitudes have been hidden until now.

You attend Stella’s lessons and tutoring not out of kindness, nor to avoid gossip among the other students, but perhaps to revel in superiority—looking down on a step-sister deemed inferior to yourself…

The one once so admired is now, to me, a source of revulsion.

Soon enough, the class—no, the academy itself—divided. One faction, composed of lower nobles who comfort and support Lady Stella, stood opposed to another, still loyal to that false noblewoman of high rank.

Lady Stella speaks with such frankness it is hard to believe she is of high noble birth; she often converses with us lesser nobles as if we were equals. We, too, complain that high nobles are stiff and wearisome, affectations we find relatable, which draws us closer to her.

She frequently shares stories from her time among commoners, and of her family.

Yet when others inquire about Miss Spica, her words grow suddenly heavy—surely, the mistreatment must have been severe…

“She disliked being near me after I was suddenly taken into the family,” she once said, her voice breaking. “I wished we could have been closer…”

Indeed, Lady Stella entered the dormitory soon after her return—but now I understand the reason behind it.

She was even presented with a dress unsuitable for her elder brother’s wedding—no one could judge its worth until the day arrived, and then she was told to change into another. Even more so, she was urged to wear a white gown at a wedding, which seemed utterly cruel!

And at her debutante presentation, she was made to wear a dress that had once belonged to Stella…

“She thought I disliked making a new dress,” she said with a quiet, sorrowful smile. “A debutante’s dress is worn but once in a lifetime, and I may be the only one who ever wore her cast-off.” The thought pierced me. To add to it, the gown bore the family crest—Stella might have been punished for it. It was a cruel act indeed.

I was a debutante as well, wearing the same gown as my two elder sisters, but she was merely wearing her younger sister’s hand-me-downs… I did not attend her debutante event, so I cannot say for certain, but it must have been deeply humiliating…

They say it was a noble tale—high-ranking nobles, refusing to punish their elder sister at court, yet still choosing to gift her a dress bearing their family crest. But from my perspective, it seems nothing more than an arrogant thought: I had my royal debut, yet my elder sister, raised among commoners, is treated as if her status were somehow different—how pitiful, so I shall grant her the illusion of dignity, as a favor!

I must protect Stella, so pure, so untouched by the corruption of nobility!

My name is Leonir. Heir to a textile merchant house now rising in fame within the imperial capital.

The academy is predominantly filled with noble students—though that applies chiefly to the magic and knightly divisions. The commercial and economic faculties, by contrast, are almost entirely composed of wealthy merchant families. I am no exception. I am currently in my fifth year of the commercial faculty.

This academy is a microcosm of the empire, and during one’s studies, the primary expectation for a merchant’s heir is to cultivate connections.

Amidst this, I have struggled to build any substantial ties.

Indeed, most noble families have their retainers assigned from childhood, making it difficult to enter the established circles. Moreover, my family is a regional merchant house only recently gaining recognition in the imperial capital. Local nobles favor us, but central nobility views us as newcomers—suspicious, wary. In short, our track record remains insufficient.

Yet even for me, a turning point arrived. The arrival of the miracle heiress from the Emmental family.

She has become a figure of great interest lately—her family, the lords of a major domain, wield influence beyond measure. To add to it, she seems untouched by the prejudices of noble society, unburdened by barriers or preconceptions. There was no reason not to act.

I immediately began observation and attempted contact.

As I observed her, I found myself astonished by her nature—not merely good, but truly good.

She was one who quietly accumulated resentment, then pressed guilt upon others with cold precision. I have seen many, but few with such thick nerves, such unshakable composure.

And then, I succeeded in making contact. I admit it myself—my face is handsome, and I am well-mannered, raised among merchants, accustomed to polite society.

It was natural, then, that I obtained an invitation to a tea gathering hosted by a noblewoman, a close associate of hers, and with that, I approached easily, becoming her friend without effort.

I was surprised myself at how warmly I was received—so much so that my family’s trading house was even put to use. There were a few minor missteps, but we both understood that such things were mutual, and we each kept our distance.

What I seek is not a fleeting flame, but a bond that endures through time…

I am Mary. I belong to the House of Earlard.

Yes, my great-uncle is the Duke Earlard, but our family is a minor noble house—my father married into my mother’s baronial line, so we hold little power. I am the youngest of five siblings, and I consider myself fortunate simply to have been admitted to the academy.

Since my enrollment, I have lived in the dormitories, as I am a minor noble with no townhouse or estate of my own.

Shortly after enrollment and entry into the dormitories, a major news event unfolded within noble society. The victim of the frequent abductions among noble children from our youth had been found and was returning home. The shock was greater still when it was revealed she was the young lady of a great lordship—the heiress of the noble house of Emmental.

I had assumed it would not concern me, yet the dormitory welcomed the adopted daughter of Emmental House, and half a year later, I found myself seated beside the miraculous heiress herself, studying side by side.

Emotionally, I am overwhelmed with pity and sorrow for Lady Stella, whose life has been one of profound suffering. Though her noble education is clearly behind, her mind remains sharp, as I can plainly see.

Since Lady Stella’s arrival, Spica has been universally recognized as the villain, especially among those of us of lower nobility, who now regard her with open disdain.

I cannot bring myself to dislike Lady Spica, not after our interactions within the dormitory, yet aligning with the sentiments of those around me—such is the wisdom of the powerless, I suppose…

Indeed, I must confess plainly: I am firmly on Lady Stella’s side.

I do not believe Lady Spica to be a wicked woman, yet she has lately been judged as such. If that is the case, then it is only natural to stand with the miraculous lady—there is no other way to regard it.

Still, Lady Spica’s kindness toward me, despite my insignificance, fills me with guilt. And so today, as always, I attended a tea gathering with Lady Stella and her companions.

Though I possess no strength of my own, my connection to Duke Elard—through blood—seems to have earned me Lady Stella’s favor, and she has come to rely on me. These days, I fear the expectations of noble recompense more than anything else.