Page 405 of The Villainess Whom I Had Served for 13 Years Has Fallen

Work was not progressing.

"..."

Sitting in her office with a pen in hand, Shartia lowered her head, swallowing her complex thoughts.

"..."

Ever since the viewing had ended, her thoughts had been in disarray.

— Smile...

— ...

— You look ugly when you cry.

Every time she set down her pen, the scene from the viewing resurfaced in her mind, making her head ache. Ricardo’s final moments... and her own disgraceful image refused to leave her thoughts.

Clenching the pen tightly, Shartia let out a deep sigh and murmured softly to herself, trying {Novelight} to find a way to resolve this turmoil.

"Should I ask to meet him?"

It was not a good idea.

She didn’t know what she would say if they met.

Saying something absurd, like a strange blue window had appeared and shown her the past, or that she was sorry for what happened back then... She would sound like a lunatic, even to herself.

But still...

"...Haa."

The lingering thoughts wouldn’t fade, and all she could do was sigh.

She wanted to meet him.

At the very least, she wanted to apologize. Even if it wasn’t her actions, even if Ricardo wasn’t aware of it, she wanted to address the wounds caused by what had happened.

She didn’t know where these feelings would lead, but she wanted to see Ricardo’s face and talk with him.

"I don’t know."

What was the right answer?

What was the wrong answer?

She thought she was strong when it came to questions with clear right and wrong answers, like those on a test. But when emotions were involved, she had no idea what the right answer could be.

"..."

Shartia spent her time trying to calm her complicated emotions, resolving that if her feelings didn’t settle, she would visit him eventually.

It was then that someone knocked on the silent office door.

— Knock, knock, knock.

The formal, deliberate knocking made Shartia cover her documents and look toward the door.

"Is the student council president inside?"

"Who is it?"

"This is Histania Malik, senior director of the academy. I came to discuss something—do you have time?"

"Why is the director suddenly..."

Letting out a deep sigh at the unexpected appearance of someone so difficult to deal with, Shartia responded. At the academy, Malik’s power was immense. Furthermore, he had taken measures to reduce the student council’s workload.

"Please come in."

"Then, excuse me."

As Malik entered, he glanced around her office and made a brief observation.

"The documents are well-organized. You must have a skilled secretary, or did you do it yourself?"

"Haha... Thank you for the compliment."

"I’d like to hire you as a secretary, but I’ll restrain myself."

"...Thank you?"

After a moment of awkward silence, Shartia asked Malik, who was sipping tea, about the reason for his visit.

"You said there was something you wanted to discuss. May I ask what it is?"

With a small smile, Malik began.

"Do you remember the 'special class' I mentioned a few weeks ago?"

Recalling the announcement she had posted at Malik’s request, Shartia nodded. She had even submitted an application for the class herself.

"Yes, I remember. I took the notice down about a week ago, as you instructed. Is there a problem?"

Malik shook his head.

"No major issues, but the invited instructor expressed a preference for teaching a small, select group..."

"May I ask what range of participants you had in mind?"

"Approximately 50 to 100."

Shartia gave an awkward smile in response.

"Ah..."

They hadn’t even reached 50 applicants, let alone 100.

"Well... you don’t need to worry about that."

"Hm?"

"Actually, we had fewer than 20 applicants."

Hearing this, Malik nodded calmly, muttering to himself, "To think they’d pass up such an incredible opportunity..."

His disappointment was so evident that Shartia couldn’t help but feel uneasy. It was rare to see Malik, who usually kept his emotions hidden, express them so openly.

"By the way... I heard you invited a highly capable instructor from outside the academy."

"That’s right."

"May I know who it is?"

"...You’ll be surprised."

Malik gave an enigmatic smile and nodded.

"Before I tell you, I need you to sign this contract."

"Pardon?"

With that cryptic smile, Malik pulled a contract from his coat and spread it out on her desk.

"What is this..."

Looking at the document, Shartia alternated her gaze between the contract and Malik, her eyes trembling.

['Non-Disclosure Agreement' and 'Liability Waiver.']

"What is this ominous contract?"

The terms were far more intimidating than she had anticipated, and her hands shook as she read the details.

"Come to think of it, didn’t the student council president say she’d participate in this class?"

"Yes... Since it’s being conducted by you, Director, I thought it would be beneficial."

"Exactly."

Satisfied with her flattery, Malik nodded with a smug smile. Even someone as seasoned as Malik couldn’t help but feel good about compliments from a princess.

With a chilling smile, Malik tapped the edge of the contract with his finger.

"The instructor is not someone we could easily recruit. We had to show our sincerity on our end."

"Still, this is the Imperial Academy. Wouldn’t sharing such information benefit the instructor’s career instead?"

"Don’t you get it?"

"Excuse me?"

"They don’t do this as their main job."

"..."

Impatiently, Malik began tapping the papers again.

"I originally intended to have participants sign this on the day of the class. If there were too many attendees, this peculiar contract would have helped narrow them down. Still, I planned to move forward even if the numbers exceeded expectations..."

"Haha..."

"But I never imagined we’d struggle to gather participants like this."

"..."

Malik, having erased any sign of disappointment, spoke with his eyes gleaming.

"As the student council president, you hold an important position, so it would be beneficial for you to know who the instructor is in advance. Of course, you’ll only learn their identity after signing the contract."

"..."

"Just a reminder—once you sign, there’s no backing out. Even if you have a fever or break an arm, you’re attending."

Clasping his hands together, Malik asked,

"So, will you sign?"

"..."

Shartia closed her trembling eyes tightly and asked Malik,

"Can I ask one question?"

"...I won’t answer anything unless you write your name on the contract."

"No."

She asked something practical instead.

"Is the instructor you’ve invited truly competent?"

"Hmm?"

"I want to learn magic."

"I’m aware."

"But the announcement didn’t specify any particular field, only that it’s for those who ‘want to grow stronger.’ To be honest, it doesn’t inspire much confidence."

"Your doubts as the student council president are understandable."

"I want to know if this instructor is truly skilled enough to justify your name being on the line."

Malik’s expression hardened as he replied firmly,

"Rather than vague words, it’s better to show solid proof."

"..."

"Do you know how much it cost to invite this instructor?"

"About 10,000 gold..."

Shaking his head dismissively, Malik spread out all five fingers.

"If I could hire an instructor for 10,000 gold, I would’ve taught the class myself."

"...I see, so it must’ve been 50,000 gold for such a skilled instructor..."

"No."

"What?"

"It was 500,000 gold."

"F-Five hundred thousand gold?!"

"That’s right."

In a resolute tone, Malik declared to Shartia,

"Money doesn’t lie."

"..."

"You’ll understand once you learn from them. Even at that price, it was a bargain."

"Then..."

"You want to become proficient in magic?"

Malik smirked confidently, radiating trust.

"I promise you, you’ll reach a level where you can stand alone against an archbishop."

Entranced, Shartia nodded and proceeded to sign the contract.

Unaware that she was stepping onto the path to hell.

*

One week later.

— Attention, this is a broadcast from the student council.

Shartia’s voice echoed throughout the academy classrooms, where the summer break was fast approaching.

— Students who applied for the special class during the break, please proceed to the senior director’s office immediately.

Hearing the broadcast, students looked up and began murmuring among themselves. Though many had seen the announcement, most hadn’t applied, unwilling to sacrifice their precious break time.

"Did you sign up?"

"No way. I’m going to enjoy my break—I won’t get another chance after graduation."

"I couldn’t because of my part-time job."

"They said the senior director is hosting it, right? It’ll probably be some insane physical training course."

"Still, it might help you improve."

"...We’re not adventurers, you know."

The chatter continued for a while until...

"Haa..."

A deep sigh accompanied by the screech of a chair silenced the room.

"How annoying."

Ruine, who had been studying, slammed his desk and stood up roughly. He was one of the few who had signed up for the special class.

One of the female students, who had been chatting, looked at Ruine and muttered,

"Did Ruine sign up too? I should’ve applied..."

"Yeah..."

She regretted not joining, wishing she could’ve shared the experience with him.

Since the Holy Sword Competition, Ruine had regained his former self. He had been exercising diligently and focusing on foundational skills he had once neglected.

While not quite at his previous level, he had managed to place within the top 50 in the recent ranking matches and was gradually regaining his former popularity.

Clenching his fist, Ruine muttered under his breath,

"Hans must’ve gotten even stronger by now."

"...Hoo..."

With a deep breath, Ruine began to make his way forward.

The broadcast hadn’t been limited to the magic department.

In the swordsmanship department, similar sighs of regret could be heard.

"Mikhail... Are you participating too?"

"Yeah... haha, I am."

"I should’ve joined too."

The same was true in the healing department.

"I’m going to get stronger, just like the woman in my dream..."

Lastly, even in a convenience store.

"Heheh... At last, the time has come for me, Shuenzel, to awaken!"

The voices of those yearning for growth were beginning to gather.