Lament for My First Life

Heirs in the Hall

The faint sound of footsteps echoed softly down the long marble hallway as Xylenne exited the bathroom, her face freshly washed, her emotions barely contained beneath a calm facade. She smoothed out her uniform, took a deep breath, and straightened her posture before pushing the heavy door open.

But when she stepped out, she froze.

Standing right outside the door, head down, hands fidgeting nervously with the hem of his uniform, was the boy with the red eyes.

Her heart gave a startled jolt. "Y-you again...?" she murmured cautiously.

He looked up suddenly, his crimson eyes flickering with guilt before he spoke, his voice hurried, but surprisingly formal.

"S-Sylvareaen Orthis! From the House of Orthis!" he said, bowing quickly, his messy black hair falling forward over his face.

Xylenne blinked. Sylvareaen...? she repeated in her mind. And the House of Orthis...? Her eyes widened slightly as realization hit her. He's the heir of a duke! The Orthis family was one of the highest noble houses in Velrithia, their bloodline held centuries of influence in the kingdom, known for their ancient magic and command of the royal courts. For a boy like him to bow to her was almost absurd.

"I-I'm sorry!" Sylvareaen blurted suddenly, straightening up but still fidgeting nervously. "I didn't mean to trip you earlier! I just— I was messing around and, I didn't know you'd cry!" Xylenne puffed her cheeks, crossing her little arms with a soft huff. "Well, apology accepted. Hmph!" She lifted her chin high, imitating the elegant posture she'd seen noblewomen use — and walked right past him, her head held proudly.

Sylvareaen blinked as she brushed past, his eyes following her small form down the hall. Her hair, long, white, and silken, shimmered faintly in the sunlight that streamed through the windows. He'd never seen hair like that on anyone else before. Not in his family, not among the noble children, not anywhere, except... Except on his professor. His professor, the calm mage with hair white as snow.

And now this girl,Xylenne Winters.

His chest tightened strangely as he watched her disappear around the corner back to class. "Hey, squirt," a voice called from behind him. "What are you doing out of class?"

Sylvareaen turned quickly, startled. Standing a few paces away was an older boy, tall, confident, wearing a freshly pressed academy coat with a silver brooch pinned neatly on his chest. He had short brown hair, sharp green eyes, and a smile that didn't quite reach his face. "Aerond Calvent," Sylvareaen muttered under his breath, recognizing him immediately.

Aerond, the heir of the House of Calvent, another ducal family, and future fiancé to Lady Varra's daughter, Marinel. He was thirteen now, a freshman in the upper division of the academy, but already carried himself like someone older, smug and self-assured. "Oh, I was just—" Sylvareaen began, but Aerond interrupted with a grin. "You were looking at that Winter girl, weren't you?" Aerond teased lightly, stepping closer. Sylvareaen stiffened. "W-what— no, I wasn't—"

"I heard my mother talking," Aerond continued, ignoring him. "She said that when I'm older, I'll be engaged to one of the Winter daughters. I'm hoping it's her." Sylvareaen's stomach dropped.

Her?

His chest tightened suddenly, heat flooding his face and a strange anger stirring in his gut. "W-well—" he stammered, his voice trembling slightly, "I—I hope it's not her!" Aerond blinked, then burst out laughing, reaching over to ruffle Sylvareaen's messy hair. "You're funny, kid. You'll understand when you're older."

"Don't—!" Sylvareaen scowled, batting his hand away, his crimson eyes flashing with irritation. Aerond chuckled again, clearly amused. "Relax. We'll see what fate decides. I heard she and your professor both have healing abilities. It's just a matter of time before she realizes it." Sylvareaen blinked, startled. "Healing... abilities?" Aerond nodded, lowering his voice slightly. "That's right. My mother says the professor's been watching her closely. Probably waiting for the signs to appear."

Healing abilities... like a mage? Sylvareaen thought, his mind spinning. Could she really...? Aerond stretched and turned toward the courtyard. "Anyway, I better get to class. We'll probably see each other again soon, maybe when our mothers have tea together. Then we can play again, yeah?"

"Y-yeah..." Sylvareaen said faintly, though his mind was far away. Aerond waved and walked off, his confident stride echoing down the hall until he disappeared around the corner. For a long moment, Sylvareaen just stood there, the hallway quiet again. Healing abilities... He looked toward the direction of Xylenne's classroom, his heart beating faster. So she's not just smart... she's special.

He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the strange, quick rhythm beneath his ribs.

"She's... different," he murmured under his breath. "But I'm not good at making friends..." He frowned slightly, looking down. His fingers fidgeted with the edge of his sleeve as he whispered softly to himself:

"I'll... try again tomorrow."