Inside the manor, behind thick stone and dull candlelight, a different kind of gathering lingered.
While an uncle and his niece pledged their souls to revenge beneath the moon, Vierna had just finished recounting something.
A joke, apparently. Something she had heard at the orphanage. That detail alone made Edels and his friends lean in, curious. The way she told it felt as though she had been inside the circle of children. Every voice, every reaction, every minor beat reconstructed like a memory too well-preserved.
And then came the punchline.
Laughter burst from the group. Genuine. One of Edels’ friends nearly spilled his drink. Even Edels had to press a hand to his mouth, suppressing a second laugh.
Back in the orphanage, Vierna had been ignored, excluded because of her silver hair. She had only ever replied when spoken to, never offered more than what was required. Maybe it came from fear. Or maybe shame. Whatever it was, she had never truly belonged.
Sure, she had tried to sneak in a joke now and then, like that time with Rulin, but to steer a conversation? To become the center of one? That had never happened.
But now?
Now it was as if the Faintborn blessing had done the opposite of what people feared.
She laughed, spoke, held the room without hesitation.
Perhaps, in some twisted way, indoctrination had sparked the flame of her confidence. Bringing to light the charm, charisma, and passion that had long been buried under years of being overlooked and set aside.
"Hahaha! Vierna, you must’ve been really popular at the orphanage," Edels said, still chuckling.
"Well, not really," Vierna replied. Her tone didn’t shift. "I kinda eavesdropped on it."
She didn’t think much of it when she said it. But something in the air shifted. The laughter lingered for a moment, then faded. Slowly, a few eyes drifted toward her hair.
They had their suspicions at first, sparked by her silver hair. Yet as they watched her here, leading the conversation with ease, joking and drawing others in, the assumption felt impossible. A Faintborn was expected to be withdrawn, weighed down by their lack of mana and a lifetime of neglect. Vierna was the opposite here. Full of life and too quick to connect. And so the question lingered on everyone’s tongue.
Until she said she eavesdropped.
That one word reframed everything. It cast her story in a different light. Maybe she hadn’t been part of that circle after all. Maybe she’d only been listening from the edge. Maybe she hadn’t belonged. And if she hadn’t belonged well, the explanation became obvious. Maybe it really was that.
"Vierna, if you don’t mind me asking... your hair. I know silver isn’t always a sign, but—do you have the Faintborn’s blessing?"
Edels’ words didn’t just break the flow. They dragged the elephant into the room and pointed straight at it. He was the only one who spoke, but Vierna could feel it. The glances, the subtle shifts. Everyone had been waiting for her answer.
He should have known better. In the Reich, Faintborn’s blessing was worse than half-melted faces, stitched-shut jaws, arms that trembled from nerve damage, or skin marbled with chemical burns. Those were marks of survival.
But the Faintborn? Their condition sat too close to weakness. And while no law in the Reich explicitly discriminated against them, the population did when they notice the signs.
Vierna weigh her options. If she denied it, they would only press further, demand proof, ask her to do something she couldn't. But saying it outright came with risk too. Confession meant separation. Isolation. Observation.
Still, between lying and revealing a limit she couldn’t hide forever, she chose the latter.
"Yes."
The group froze. Eyes widened. No one spoke.
"Well then, that—"
"Herr Edels," Vierna’s voice cut through, suddenly mature and composed.
"May I ask? Does my condition affect the way you see me? Does it make me seem lesser to you?"
"Well, it's not—"
"It’s true that I don’t have a high innate mana. But I believe it is House Rouen’s motto that says: 'Birth doesn’t matter.' A reflection of their humble origins as farmers, who rose to knighthood through merit.”
"I admire House Rouen. Their words are one of the things that give me strength to carry on. And while I enjoy our conversation, if my condition causes you or any of the fine ladies and gentlemen here to think less of me, I’m all right with that."
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"It will not erode my spirit to serve the Reich in whatever way I can."
For a moment, even Vierna surprised herself. Speaking up like this wasn’t something the old her would have done. The girl from the orphanage would have just nodded, maybe offered a weak smile, then faded into the background.
But something about being seen as lesser, as unfit to serve, struck a nerve. It stirred something she didn’t expect.
Maybe it was the indoctrination. Maybe it was pride.
She didn’t care.
It felt good to stand.
She would not let a handful of nobles take that away from her.
"Well, I—" Edels tried to form his words, but they came out clumsy.
"Ahhh, she got you good now, didn’t she?" said a girl seated near the edge of the group. She had barely spoken all evening, content to observe. But now her voice cut in, smooth and firm.
She was stunning, elegant and composed, the kind of beauty shaped more by discipline than indulgence. Her figure was sharp, and statuesque. She wore something between a dress and a uniform: tailored, formal, white with accents of deep violet tracing the sleeves and trim. It gave her the presence of a duelist on holiday, or a commander pretending to be a guest. Her hair was deep brown, nearly black under candlelight, tied back in a way that suggested neither vanity nor neglect. And though it wasn’t obvious at first, there was something in the way she watched, waited, and spoke that made her feel older than the rest. Not by years, perhaps, but by experience.
"Shouldn't pick a girl just because she seems cute now, right, Edels?"
"Come on, Tessa, how would I honestly—"
"Zip it, Edels."
The look in Edels’ eyes said it all. Tessa wasn’t just another girl in the room. Despite spending most of the evening in silence, her presence carried more weight than his ever had.
She turned her attention to the rest of the group.
"And the rest of you—shame on you. Vierna is the one who brought supplies to the front when the lines were falling. And now you look at her differently just because of the Faintborn’s Blessing?"
"If anything, you should be ashamed. The girl you saw as ‘lesser’ has done more for the Reich than any of you ever have."
The room fell into a stiff hush. A few exchanged glances, uncertain. But none dared challenge her. Tessa’s gaze pinned them in place.
Then—
"Frau Vierna, please forgive my stupidity," Edels said, voice lowered. "It wasn’t my intention to cause you shame."
"Please, Herr Edels," Vierna said, her voice gentle, "there’s nothing to worry about."
She stepped forward slightly, tone warm, composed.
"If anything, I’m grateful you’ve taken such a keen interest in me. And I’m sorry if my earlier words came off as too sharp."
Her eyes scanned the group.
"Truly, weren’t we just laughing together a moment ago? Maybe I was just being overly self-conscious about my condition. I’d be grateful if we could forget it and just enjoy the night."
After a short pause, Vierna spoke again, light and casual, as if nothing had happened.
"So… do you guys know about sugar-dipped meat?"
One of the boys blinked. "You mean caramel-glazed meat?"
"What, it has a name?" Vierna said, eyebrows raised. "So it’s not weird or anything?"
That cracked the tension. Someone laughed. Another chimed in with a childhood memory. And just like that, the dying conversation found a pulse again, resuscitated by curiosity and candied meat.
They talked for hours after that. About food. About training. About rumors of upcoming evaluations.
Edels sat quietly, listening. Observing. There was a faint stiffness in his posture, a flicker of something behind his smile. Discomfort, maybe.
The kind that came not from offense, but from realization.
He wasn’t the center anymore. Vierna was.
And from her seat near the edge, Tessa watched in silence.
No longer weighing judgment. Just curious now.
Curious about a girl who had walked into a room, disarmed it with grace, and taken command of it by simply being herself.
Hours poured out like juice from a tapped barrel. Conversation spilled, laughter echoed, and somewhere along the way, Vierna’s healthy appetite became hard to ignore. Some of the boys joked about it, but she paid them no mind—only grinned and said something about always being hungry back at the orphanage.
One by one, people began to excuse themselves. It was getting late.
"Well, Frau Vierna, it's been a pleasure," Edels said, rising from his seat. "And once again, please accept my apology for earlier."
"No apology needed again, Herr Edels," Vierna replied with a polite nod. "I hope we can meet again someday."
Edels gave a small smile, but didn’t respond. He left with the rest, unremarkably, fading into the evening like nothing had happened.
Now, only Tessa and Vierna remained. The fire had burned low. The room was quieter than it had been all night.
"Frau Tessa," Vierna called softly. "Thank you for earlier. Despite not knowing me, you defended me. I’m sorry if it caused any awkwardness between you and the others."
"No thanks needed, Frau Vierna," Tessa replied, her voice calm. "It was refreshing, really. To see someone handle herself like that."
She brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. It moved like a ribbon of dark silk catching the light. Calm, fluid, but precise, as if every gesture she made had been taught in silence long ago.
"Ah—please, I haven’t even properly introduced myself," Vierna said. "My name is Vierna. I currently live at the Einhartturm research facility. It's a pleasure to meet you, Frau Tessa."
Tessa nodded slightly. "Tessa Airendel."
Her gaze lingered on Vierna, thoughtful. Then, almost casually, she spoke again.
"Hmm curious, But still... you're not like the others I’ve met from that facility. You seem too normal. Didn’t they do something horrible to you there?"
As soon as she said it, Tessa blinked. Her expression shifted, just slightly—enough to show she hadn’t meant to ask aloud.
"...That was inappropriate. I’m sorry."
"Haha, that's quite alright, Tess. I'm sorry, can I call you that?" asked Vierna.
"It's okay," Tessa replied.
"Well, since you asked—if you’re referring to the procedure, then yes, it was painful. But I try to live with it.”
Tessa blinked again, this time with genuine surprise. A research subject with this much composure and acceptance was the last thing she expected tonight.
" Though now I’m curious. I’ve never heard of House Airendel." Vierna’s voice cut through Tessa’s deep thought.
"That’s because we’re not noble. My father’s a merchant. My mother’s also a commoner."
"Then how do you know Edels?"
"We’re classmates. I got in on a scholarship to Arkanpfad Academy."
Vierna hadn’t realized Edels and his friends were part of the academy too.
She had only known them as Unterkreis mages, frontline personnel. It hadn’t occurred to her that in Einhartturm, you were often more than one thing at once.
A soldier. And a student.
Arkanpfad Academy wasn’t some provincial institution either. It was one of the Reich’s elite academies, forged from the idea that knowledge alone wasn’t enough. It demanded both intellect and discipline, academic excellence and combat aptitude, both tested, both refined.
Compared to the prestigious Obersieg Institut in Rangdenfalt, Arkanpfad offered something even more brutal. Its classrooms were within walking distance of trenches. Its graduates didn’t just know theory. They had bled for their grades.
And Tessa? To get into such a place on a scholarship?
That meant something.
It meant this girl wasn’t just composed. She wasn’t just sharp.
As Vierna looked at Tessa, really looked at her, she realized something simple and unsettling.
This girl was no ordinary merchant’s daughter.
Is the question felt intentional to shame Vierna?
