The campus bell had signaled the end of the day, but for me, it sounded more like a countdown to disaster I couldn’t find a way out of. I kept my head low and my voice an octave higher than usual, a desperate, subconscious attempt to sound "fine" and "unbothered."

All of Feyt's classes today were theory-related, so thank God I didn’t have to do much with this bandage on. But man, was it an eyesore. Every time I passed someone, their eyes lingered far too long on my head!

I wanted to take it off as soon as I could, but I knew for a fact that the bruise was going to catch even more attention.

I was busy calculating the shortest route to the dorms when a voice cut through the hum of the hallway.

“Feyt?” a gentle, warm voice echoed behind me.

I turned to find none other than Saint Clara standing there, her eyes narrowed sharply on my bandaged head.

“H-Hi there!” I chirped, plastering on a smile so bright it probably looked painful. “Clara! Good to see you. Oh, this? It’s nothing, really. Just a little mishap while I was playing with—”

Before I could blink, her hand shot out, her fingers locking around my wrist with a firm, uncompromising grip.

“Follow me.”

“Wha—?”

…

She led me through the maze of the third floor, past lingering students who stared at our joined hands. Clara seemed like she didn't care, though. She moved with speed that I hadn’t known she possessed.

We reached an empty classroom in record time. She practically shoved me inside and closed the door with a sharp click.

“Lean down,” she commanded. It was soft, but it had a sharp edge to make me buckle down automatically.

I complied, still shocked from being dragged. Her fingers moved behind my head with practiced, delicate care.

Slowly, she unspooled the bandages. As the final layer fell away, revealing the mottled purple and blue of the bruise on my forehead, her breath hitched. She pressed a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide.

“This severe…?” she whispered. “How hard did she—Tch!” She clicked her tongue, a rare spark of frustration flickering in her eyes. Her once-serene, gentle face was now a silent fury. "She's gone too far—!" Her voice trembled.

I cleared my throat, forcing a genuine smile to my lips. “A-Actually, this is just from when I was—”

“You don’t need to hide it from me, Feyt,” she interrupted me resolutely. Her tone lower than normal. She shook her head, her gaze never leaving the injury. “There is no way a game of ball did this. Please... just stay still.”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“But I’m serious! Ricent really did throw the ball that hard!” I protested, waving my hands for emphasis. “I think he might even be part catapult! I actually saw my life flash before my eyes, you know?"

She didn't answer. Instead, she hovered her palm above my skin and drifted into a focused stillness. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she began to murmur a soft, rhythmic chant:

“Soothe the spirit and still the blood,

Bind this vessel with warmth in flood.”

A gentle, amber warmth began to radiate from her palm, enveloping my head in a sensation like a sun-soaked afternoon. The occasional sharp throb I felt in my skull began to dissipate, and eventually, it was like it never happened.

It was the first time I’d felt a heal work this well. Either Clara has improved by a large margin since she last healed me, or she used more powerful magic just for my sake. It was as if she weren’t just closing a wound, but undoing the very moment I was struck.

I blinked, testing by lightly touching my forehead. "Wow... Clara, that’s incredible. Thank you."

She didn't respond. Instead, she stared at me in silence, eyes locked onto mine sharply.

I should spend more time thanking her, but I needed to clear this confusion up first. She looked like she was really angry with the other me for "causing" this bruise, and I wouldn't want that at all!

I took a breath, trying to steady my voice to try one last time. "But really, about the bruise—you’ve got the wrong idea. Ricent just has a crazy arm, and I wasn't looking when the ball—"

Before I could finish the sentence, my vision disappeared behind a screen of soft black fabric and the rustling of hair on my ear.

Clara had pulled me into a hug.

“H-Huh?” I stammered, my arms hanging awkwardly at my sides like two lead weights.

What in the world is happening?!

"Relax, Feyt," she murmured into my ears, her warm breath dangerously close. Her voice was trembling, not with sadness, but with a vibrating, suppressed fury. "You don’t need to hide anything from me. You don't have to carry the weight of her cruelty by yourself. I know the position you’re in. I know you feel like you have to protect her because of your future."

"Clara, I—" I couldn't stammer up a proper response. I was being hugged out of nowhere, for God's sake!

She pulled back just enough to hold me steady by my shoulders, her gaze locking onto mine with a terrifying, quiet resolve. The gentle girl I knew was gone; in her place stood someone ready to go on a crusade.

"Don't worry, Feyt. I will make sure she is held responsible for this," she said, her tone as sharp as a ritual blade. "The rumors were one thing, but seeing this... this bruise on you? I won't let this be swept under the rug. Being a noble doesn't give her the right to use you as target practice."

I was still in a state of total reboot from the sudden hug; my brain felt like it had short-circuited. My mouth opened and closed like a fish on land. Before I could twist my tongue to form words, she turned on her heel, her skirts snapping with the force of her pivot.

"Call for me if you’re injured again. I shall be heading to the directors to report this incident," she commanded without looking back. "Just sit tight. I'll handle this."

The door clicked shut behind her.

I stood in the silence of the empty classroom for a few heartbeats, my forehead feeling suspiciously warm where the bruise used to be. Then, the gears finally turned. The fog of the hug lifted, and the weight of her words hit me.

Wait… hold her responsible?

That’s bad, isn’t it?!

"Clara! Wait! Stop! I really did just get hit by a ball!!!" I yelled, throwing out my dignity for the sake of truth.

I scrambled toward the door, nearly tripping over my own feet as I rushed into the hallway to catch her before she condemns my name all the way to the directors.