Read Novel Full Chapter 431: Snow Falls On Top [I]
Chapter 431: Snow Falls On Top [I]
Michael was shouting. For the nth time, he kept going on and on about how Juliana and I could just block the administration like they were a bunch of spam callers.
And for the nth time, I couldn’t make it any clearer to him, “Because they are a bunch of spam callers. Every single ping from the Academic Board is just a reminder of new tuition formatting, threats for missing classes, warnings about rule violations, repeated disciplinary hearings, mandatory orientation seminars, and so on and so on.”
That devolved into another argument that must have lasted hours. Hours.
So when the rest of us said we wouldn’t be attending the commemoration, Michael blanched and started pulling at his hair in obvious anxiety.
“You cannot just refuse a direct summons from the Headmasters! And from a Duke!” the poor boy hissed, very visibly stressed from trying and failing to be the only responsible adult in a villa full of delinquents. “It’s going to be a global broadcast! You can’t just ghost an event like that!”
At that, a few others looked hesitant. Juliana, though, yawned dismissively and decided to take a dip in the pool.
My response was also just, “Watch me,” before I followed her outside.
Alexia dozed off after a while, and Kang slipped upstairs to find himself a new bedroom.
In the end, Michael was left flitting back and forth in the grand living room, mumbling irritated curses that were clearly directed at all of us… and maybe at his own helplessness.
•••
By late afternoon, which was almost edging toward early evening, the group prepared for a raid.
Juliana and Michael had managed to convince Alexia and Kang to join them in braving the lower storage ward. No debates were held since everyone had their luggage there.
Initially, yes, Alexia looked hesitant because she’d heard the lower storage wards were now basically dungeons, infested with things worse than what most B-ranks had any business facing.
Plus, since they didn’t have any proper map, exploring the terrain and extracting their crates would be a chaotic mess. A synergic nightmare.
As such, she wanted to plan and strategize more… you know, like a cautious, normal human being with a functioning brain.
But after Kang offhandedly mentioned that some of her unused skincare products were still down there, near expiry, she all but broke down the door to lead the charge herself.
I, naturally, decided to stay behind.
Because a master manipulator like me wouldn’t lower himself to manual labor of dungeon crawling.
…And also because I had something else to do.
So as they filtered out of the villa, by the time the clear blue sky above began to bruise in scattered shades of deep reds and pinks and purples, I too made my way toward the residential halls downtown.
My destination was a housing block, mostly occupied by first-years.
The streets here were busy, and even amidst the sprawling crowd, I could clearly pick out the faces of exchange Cadets from the non-transfers just by looking at how they carried themselves.
The older Cadets looked calmer and more content as they went about their day. A bit tired and exasperated, yes, but still quietly confident.
The new transfers, on the other hand, seemed raw and hungry, like they had something to prove. Like they wanted to establish they not only deserved to belong here in the grandest institute for the Awakened, but that they were better than the ones who already did.
I kept my jacket’s hood low, not wanting to draw their gazes.
Sometimes, a few nearby Cadets would murmur conspiratorially in my direction, but I wouldn’t wait around long enough for them to confirm who I was.
Moving at an unhurried pace, slipping through the gates of a high-rise apartment complex, I took the elevator and finally stopped in front of a sleek door on the sixteenth floor.
I hoped I was at the right place. In the game, these goddamned buildings all looked the same.
But my worries were thankfully put to rest when I rapped at the door and it slid open slightly a few seconds later.
A young woman peeked outside from the thin crack. Her delicately beautiful face was drawn into a perplexed frown before being stolen over by an expression of gawping recognition as she peered under my hood.
Her hair was tied back in a messy chignon, with some stray strands of blue escaping to frame a pair of purple eyes. Those eyes, widening at my sight, were glazed over by a sheen of azure — a signature physical trait of all Northerners, of all Frostborns.
“Casey Snowrite,” I greeted, pulling back my hood even as she had placed me. “Can I come in?”
•••
Across from me, Casey Snowrite had settled into a cushioned armchair, one leg crossed over the other at the knee and her chin resting lightly against the back of her fingers. Prim and composed.
It was a pretentiously relaxed pose, but not an unguarded one. She wanted to project confidence, come across as someone unaccustomed to being intimidated.
She didn’t have to try hard in that regard. I knew that was exactly the kind of person she was.
Yet, I also knew she was rattled by my unannounced arrival. I could tell she didn’t know what to make of me suddenly tracking her down, let alone wanting to chat.
Her clothes were refined without being impractical, just enough ostentatious flair that you would expect from most nobles — a sleeveless navy top cut close to the body to accentuate her toned, shapely figure, traced with understated silver embroidery around the collar and bodice.
She had paired it with tailored white trousers that flowed cleanly to her ankles and a matching white furred mantle that rested over her shoulders against the evening chill, held in place by small sapphire ornaments and thin chains.
Modest jewelry adorned her ears and wrist, signet rings on fingers hinting at her status without outright announcing it.
She regarded me in silence for a moment, elbow perched on the chair’s armrest, expression calm and faintly skeptical, as though she couldn’t yet decide whether letting me inside was the right decision.
“Have some tea,” she said, pointing offhandedly at one of the two steaming porcelain cups on the center table. “A special blend from my home.”
I picked up the cup, the heat seeping through the ware into my fingertips.
I didn’t drink, just swirled the pale blue liquid, watching the steam rise and dissipate into the air of her air-conditioned apartment.
“Frostroot,” I said with a hint of approval, sniffing before finally taking a slow sip. The liquid was cold as ice the moment it hit my tongue, only to burst into a soothing warmth down my throat. Damn. “You Northerners really don’t compromise on comforts, even when exiled, huh?”
Casey didn’t touch her own cup. Her purple-blue eyes followed even the smallest of my movements with the sharp precision of a hunter.
At my words, she tried not to show any reaction.
But I, too, was following her cues. I didn’t miss the queasy twitch in her jaw, and neither did she miss me catching it.
So, immediately masking her surprise, she tutted.
“Exiled?” The word slipped from her lips as if she were rolling it on her tongue, trying its flavor before deciding how utterly distasteful it was. “I don’t know where you heard this preposterous rumor from, but I am only as much exiled from my family as you are from yours. I’m not disowned. I still carry the name. And I can return to Siocgard anytime I want.”
It was an effort to hold back a scoff. “Sure,” I said, “but my uncle never usurped my father’s seat and tried to kill me.”
No matter how good she was at maintaining her glacial composure, there was no facade thick enough to blunt a truth that raw.
Casey’s fingers stiffened under her chin, fury evident in her gaze even as her eyes narrowed into slits. I was half-expecting her to kick me out, to summon her blade and lash at me, even.
Instead, the silence in the apartment stretched. And stretched. And stretched and stretched. Broken only when her arm lowered, her rings clicking against the lacquered armrest of her chair.
“He didn’t try to kill me.” The way she said it sounded like she was trying to convince herself of something more than correcting me. That maybe, maybe her uncle would not have crossed that final, bloody line.
But then, the way she flinched at her own words, the way her thumb traced the edge of her family signet ring, betrayed the lie. She knew the truth just as well as I did.
“Of course he didn’t try,” I offered with a shrug, setting the cup down on the saucer. “He would have succeeded if he actually tried. You fled before that. You got out because people bled to clear a path for you, Lady Snowrite. Let us not insult their sacrifices by playing make-believe.”
I knew I was coming off even more of an asshole than I really was. I couldn’t help it. The only thing I hated more than stupid idiots was when smart people acted as stupid idiots.
Casey gave me a hateful glare. I swear I felt the temperature in the room plummet to an even harsher freeze that I wasn’t entirely convinced was because of the AC. “Why are you here?”
The mother tongue of Northerners is a mix of multiple Old World Slavic languages — Russian, Polish, and a dozen other dead dialects.
Because of that, when they speak Common, their thick, throaty accent usually clips the vowels.
It makes every word they speak sound flat and aggressive unless they make a conscious effort to round off the sharp edges.
Right now, Casey certainly wasn’t making any effort. “Surely you didn’t do all that research on me because I caught your eye, as flattering as that would be. So what do you want?”
Adopting a placating tone, I began to reply. “I want you to be the next matriarch of House Snowrite. I want to help you get back your birthright,” I grinned. “And in return, I want some favors.”