Sexton’s dining hall, which was usually alive with chatter, had fallen into whispers behind the students hands. Their eyes were trained on the Crown Prince of the kingdom standing not among Elites but beside the Groundlings’ table.

Ruelle’s head felt jammed under every pair of eyes pressing on her and questioning her audacity. She had hoped for the prince to leave, but he continued to stand there and she could hear the faint sound of her heart, painfully alive.

“You know, I just realised,” Prince Edward began, while everyone in the room hung on every word that left his lips. “I’ve never had someone work oil on me with such patience. We must do it again sometime. Perhaps regularly!” he looked utterly unaware of the storm he was unleashing.

“I think there are better people suited for it, Your Highness,” Ruelle tried to put an end to their conversation.

But the prince was not done talking and continued, ​​”Most women would have fled in horror, but you were attentive with that thing,” he meant the glue, as if announcing a royal achievement. “I don’t think anyone has ever handled me like that before.”

Gasps rippled through the hall, while someone choked on their drink after hearing what the prince uttered.

Ruelle’s eyes widened in absolute horror at how he sounded and she hoped the floor would swallow her whole. No, not her, but him!

“Crown Prince’s thing?!”

“Did first-year Groundlings begin with physical classes for Seduction Techniques already?”

“Groundlings truly are ambitious…!”

Heat rushed to Ruelle’s cheeks. She forced to breathe, trying to steady her trembling fingers against her sides. She began, “Your Highness—”

“I ordered you to call me Edward,” he corrected with a harumph, drawing an imaginary slice across his throat. “Unless you wish to be beheaded.”

“Edward,” Ruelle corrected carefully, because defying a prince was worse than death, “I merely helped you remove a… hunting mishap. I am quite certain there are many capable men who can tend to such matters.”

Or knock some sense into your head, she thought weakly.

Prince Edward looked genuinely offended. He narrowed his eyes and remarked,

“I should reward those who serve me well. Also, you made some excellent points, ahem. So I have decided you will be summoned whenever I require assistance. Consider yourself fortunate, as most people spend their entire lives praying for the honour of serving me. You have simply stumbled into greatness, which most only dream of.”

Lucian was right… Ruelle thought to herself. The act of kindness did not always reward. Because right now she could feel the glares burning through her.

She didn’t dare to look in Lucian’s direction right now. She could imagine the look of disappointment in his eyes and she bit the inside of her cheek.

Then there were her friends, who had turned into nothing less than a pair of statue. Thankfully, before the Crown Prince could fuel more misunderstandings, a tall, lean man in his late twenties entered the dining room. His brown hair was tied neatly into a low ponytail that brushed past his shoulders, and he wore the king’s crest upon his coat.

The attendant bowed his head slightly beside Edward and leaned close, speaking in a low voice meant only for royal ears. The prince’s brows knit together in immediate annoyance.

“What? Now?” Edward hissed under his breath. His voice was low, but not enough to mask his displeasure. “Ask them to wait. I am busy right now.”

The attendant whispered something to the prince again, and Edward looked irritated. He turned to Ruelle and said begrudgingly,

“It seems that people desire to share in my greatness,” he said before leaving with his attendant.

The steady click of the prince’s shoes followed him out of the dining hall and down the corridor. And once they faded, the silence in the hall broke. Voices turned louder than before, buzzing frantically while most of the students stared at Ruelle.

One of the Halflings commented, “I told you she was sponsored by someone. Groundlings can’t afford that. Apparently it was Prince Edward.”

And though Ruelle sat down, she stared at her plate full of food, where she had eaten only three bites. While her friends were trying to wrap their heads around what happened, one of the second-year groundlings leaned towards them.

“My name is Kelis,” she whispered, as if afraid even hope might be punished. “I’m already at the bottom… I don’t want to be thrown out like scraps. If you ask the prince, he might listen, please.”

But Ruelle had only met the prince half an hour ago and the people were misunderstanding things. She also realised the severity of Sexton and what could happen if humans like her failed. A few nearby humans’ eyes suddenly lit with hope.

“Oh! That’s right! She could help all of us—”

“Ruelle, you should—”

Ruelle stood up and murmured, “Excuse me. I have somewhere to be.”

She quickly stepped out of the dining hall, the noise fading behind her. Only when she reached almost the end of the corridor did she realise she had been holding her breath.

“Ruelle!!” Footsteps hurried behind her. It was Hailey and Kevin who caught up to her. Hailey looked excited and asked, “Why didn’t you tell us that you know the Crown Prince?! Do you think he will take you to the castle? This is so exciting,” she clapped her hands together.

Behind Hailey, Kevin remained silent.

There was a faint stiffness in his shoulders. The warmth he usually held in his gaze felt dimmer now, shadowed by something caught between disbelief and quiet resignation.

Hailey continued, breathless, “Ruelle, you have to tell me everything. How did it happen? Is it because your father knows the royal family? Woah—”

“Hailey, calm down.” Ruelle placed her hand on her friend’s shoulder. She sighed, “I didn’t know the prince until a few minutes ago.”

“Huh? What do you mean a few minutes ago?” Hailey’s excitement turned into confusion. “He was talking to you comfortably. I don’t think a prince would ever do that.”

“He… he likes to talk a lot,” Ruelle closed her eyes for a brief second and then opened them. She explained what had happened before she arrived at the dining room and finished, “He needed help and I did. There is nothing more to it.”

“But he told you to address him by his name. You must have made quite some impression on him,” Hailey thought loudly. That was because it wasn’t every day a commoner helped a royal family member to rid glue. “What if one day he turns you into his wife?”

“You are getting carried away now, Hailey,” Ruelle tried to ground Hailey. “You forget that ‘Groundlings’ don’t turn into someone’s wife in the royal family. Our kind are always assigned as mistress.” In her case, the prince had openly suggested to turn her into his attendant.

Hailey nodded with a dejected sigh but then brightened up and replied, “I don’t mind being the prince’s mistress. He is good looking and of higher status.” It made Ruelle shake her head with an amused smile.

To Ruelle, Prince Edward looked like the sort who would wander straight toward the jaws of a crocodile, dragging others alongside him, only for them to be bitten while he walked away laughing.

It was close to noon, and the first years of Sexton were attending the potions class. They were working on an anti-liquid remedy against poisons. The room was filled with the scent of herbs and burnt ash, which were being added into a flask.

Ruelle sat in the front, because it was easier to focus and look at the board than her peers who would turn to face her.

The instructor was making rounds, and when he came to her side, he pointed, “You are a pinch short of ash.”

“Mr. Savantique?” Ruelle called him.

“Yes, Miss Belmont?”

“The potions you mentioned before. Belladonna’s brew. Has anyone attempted to recreate it since then?” Ruelled asked him, her voice not too loud, while others were busy chattering and creating mini explosions in the class.

“People always try in hope. But no one can succeed at it even if they somehow gather all the ingredients listed in there,” Mr. Savantique replied, his hands folded behind his back.

“Why do you say that?” Ruelle frowned in interest.

“Because it was a creation born not just of alchemy but of blood. Her blood,” Mr. Savantique answered her. “Records had it that she did give birth to a child which was given away. And she, well, she had gone mad and had drowned herself.”

Back when she was looking for her lost earrings from the assignment, her eyes had briefly strayed to Lucian’s desk. One of his parchments was filled with layered equations, ink scratched out, rewritten, then scratched again… as if he had been trying to rebuild something.

Ruelle’s fingers curled tightly around her quill.

Far from the quiet murmur of classrooms, the doors to Sexton’s administrative office stood firmly shut, as though bracing themselves for misfortune.

Inside, Mr. Mortis sat behind his desk with his usual grave composure, though a faint strain had begun to edge its way into the lines around his eyes. Opposite him lounged Crown Prince Edward, one leg crossed leisurely over the other as he looked around the room, shaking his head.

Standing to the side was Mr. Henley, eyes bright with politeness and ambition. He believed his presence here would prove professionally advantageous in the long run, as he was desperately determined to reap benefits.

“Your Highness…” Mr. Mortis began carefully, as if gathering the last fragments of patience remaining inside him. “Your education and combat records place you easily alongside our third-year students. However, considering your responsibilities as Crown Prince, we will need to coordinate your schedule thoroughly to align with the final-year curriculum. Mr. Henley here will serve as yo—”

“I don’t want it,” Prince Edward interrupted without hesitation.

Mr. Mortis furrowed his brows and asked, “…Pardon me?”

“Pardoned,” Edward said before clarifying as he leaned back further into his seat, making himself somehow even more comfortable. “I want to join the first-years. Adjust it.”

“…”

It was said that there existed several unfortunate souls who had once been tasked with educating the Crown Prince. Most of them had either retired early, developed migraines or moved towns.

Mr. Mortis tried again, “Your Highness, with the utmost respect, the first years have only just begun foundational work and is not suitable for you. What you require are—”

“Exactly.” Edward flicked his wrist dismissively and replied, “Even geniuses must revise. If not for my father, I would not be here at all. Let us be grateful I have graced the institution.”

“Your Highness,” Mr. Mortis spoke in the same tone as before, “Sexton Academy does not exist for your personal amusement. You are to be assigned to the final year as per instruction from His Majesty.”

The prince’s eyes narrowed and questioned, “And how do you suppose my mood feels about that?”

“I imagine that it is perfectly suited to learning. Mr. Henley will deliver your schedule. Weekly progress reports will be sent to the palace,” came Mr. Mortis’s swift response.

Edward rose from his seat and stepped forward. He planted his hands upon the desk and leaned closer with menace. He asked in a lowered voice,

“Do you know what I shall do once I take the throne, Mortis?” he continued with a smile, “I shall personally ensure you are unemployed.”

But Mr. Mortis didn’t flinch. He responded with a bow, “I look forward to my retirement, Your Highness.”

Prince Edward glowered for a heartbeat before turning to his attendant and called,

“Hermes!”

“Yes, Your Highness?” the attendant bent forward.

Edward did not bother replying with words. He simply lifted his hand and drew a slow line across his throat while pointing at Mr. Mortis. He commanded,

“See that it is done.”

Mr. Mortis stiffened for a second while his expression remained the same. Once the door was shut and he was alone, he exhaled, “I should have retired last year.”

Outside Sexton’s administrative office, Prince Edward let out a yawn, stretching his arms over his head as though he had just endured the greatest hardship known to mankind. He muttered,

“How tedious,” before turning his gaze lazily to the Halfling beside him.

Mr. Henley straightened at once, and wearing a polished smile. He bowed just enough to show respect.

“What do you even do here?” Edward questioned nonchalantly.

Mr. Henley bowed deeper.

“I serve Sexton in administrative support and assistance, Your Highness,” he replied smoothly. “I oversee parts of academic coordination and lend my expertise primarily to the Seduction Techniques branch. However, my interest—rather, my honour—lies in one day serving you in court—”

Edward lifted his hand between them and Ezekiel stopped speaking immediately.

“Oh? So you manage classes? I am assuming all the years?”

Ezekiel nodded. He answered, “Yes, Your Highness. Everything naturally moves smoother under my guidance.”

“Does it?” Edward nodded slowly in mock agreement, clearly not listening as he thought about something else. “Finally someone who is capable of doing something. You know, I always believed diversity enriches experiences. Learning from each other.”

“Of course! The kingdom is strongest when every discipline and race stands united. Humans, vampires, Halflings,” Mr. Henley agreed.

“Something Mortis stuck with me. That the first years are still in foundational, and they might need assistance and knowledge from their seniors. How about you combine a class with the first and final years together?”

“Well, the schedules are already set for the next two-three weeks right now, but I think I can put in a word with Gemma Gilbert who is the head of the department,” Henley proposed. “Your Highness possesses extraordinary foresight. Though I am curious as to why you are insistent on getting involved with the first years?”

Prince Edward clicked his tongue thoughtfully, and questioned,

“Do I require a reason to improve the kingdom?” he asked instead, looking mildly offended that anyone dared question his thoughts. “When I see inefficiency, I feel the need to fix it. It is a burden I shoulder with great reluctance, but alas someone must. So… can you do it?”

That very hour, Ezekiel dutifully relayed the prince’s suggestion to Gemma. Unaware that the day would come when jealousy would burn so fiercely through him that he would wish he had never obeyed the prince’s order.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep