Chapter 20
“The Official Married Comedy Duo, the Prince’s Agitation, and the Direction of Kindness”
The morning bell rang once.
The stone pavement of the Royal Capital Academy shimmered faintly in the cool air.
The courtyard fountain leapt happily, as always.
The moment I opened the classroom door, the jar of candy slipped from my hand—and vanished.
“Good mornin’, today we’ll start with ‘fluctuation in differentiation—’”
“Candy distribution will be handled by the Madam.
Form two lines, and please keep a little distance to ease congestion.”
Rutia’s clear declaration echoed through the room.
(Here comes the Minister of Distribution.)
Her small red ribbon swayed as the jar lid clicked open.
Mint in her right hand, honey in her left.
With just her gaze, she lined the students up perfectly.
“Yesterday was mint.
Today’s honey.
Yes, you—today, savor the sweetness properly.”
“Teacher, I—”
“You lose focus easily. Mint for you. Next.”
Her judgment was swift.
And merciless.
(She could run HR.)
I picked the chalk back up in front of the blackboard.
“Alright then, let’s start.
You freeze up ‘cause you think fluctuation is somethin’ scary.
But listen—fluctuation’s a rhythm.
Sine and cosine are like husband and wife.”
“Husband and wife?” came a voice from the back.
“It’s a figure of speech!”
The classroom filled with laughter that warmed the morning air.
Between writing notes, Rutia deftly brushed the chalk dust from my sleeve.
“Chalk powder.
Even if white, it’s not a pretty kind of white when left on your sleeve.”
“So we’re doin’ fashion critique now?”
She erased the blackboard at the perfect angle, not letting any dust scatter.
Not a single wasted motion.
(Where the heck did she practice that?)
◆◇◆
Break time.
A line of students gathered with questions.
“Teacher, about this part—” “Teacher, this integral—”
“Hold up, one at a time.”
Rutia smoothly stepped forward.
“Number tags. Three minutes per person, one-minute extension max.
Kai, start from number three.”
“Is this a clinic or a classroom?”
Still, the flow was smooth.
The students’ eyes calmed, and the air in the room cleared.
From behind a stone pillar in the corridor, someone watched.
Golden hair caught the light, and sapphire eyes narrowed.
First Prince Leon Ardelheit.
He pressed his lips together, holding his breath.
“So that is… Rutia’s true nature?”
What surfaced in his mind was the “Ice Lady” of high society—
flawless, rigid, never showing a single weakness.
But the girl before him now—
fixing sleeves, pouring tea, sharing candy, softening her voice, smiling gently.
Naturally.
From the heart.
“If only… she’d ever shown me a smile like that…”
His murmur dissolved into the breeze.
He touched his own cheek, forcing a small smile.
“No. I’ll be happy—with Philia.”
He gripped that resolve tightly.
At that moment, the lecture hall doors opened.
Philia Estrea stood there, notebook clutched to her chest.
She quietly took her usual seat in the very back, bowing her head.
Leon approached her, speaking more softly than usual.
“Philia.
If there’s something you don’t understand in the lecture… I’ll help you review.”
“Eh… Y-Your Highness, you will?”
“If you wish it.
Studying with you would make me happy too.”
Philia’s cheeks blushed like they’d been warmed by firelight.
“…Yes.
Please, Your Highness.”
Her voice, polite as ever, trembled just slightly higher.
Leon’s eyes flicked briefly to the front of the room—
where Kai and Rutia were still doing their usual routine.
“Teacher, hydration.”
“Got it—but stop with the ‘say ahh,’ would ya?”
Laughter.
Leon lowered his gaze, then turned back to Philia.
“Let’s go. To the library tower—just the two of us.”
“Yes.”
◆◇◆
Lunchtime.
The cafeteria was packed.
Before I could even find a seat, a chair slid out for me.
“Kai, over here.
The sunlight’s weaker today, so this table’s fine.”
“What kinda sunlight management you runnin’?”
The plates lined up—salad, soup, main dish, bread.
“Start with the salad.
Light dressing. Here, carrot.”
“Carrots are the enemy.”
“They’re the ally—of health.”
She speared a carrot and dropped it on my plate.
“Next, soup. It’s hot, so blow on it—”
“I can blow it myself!”
“I know. But I want to.”
“…That’s straight to the heart, huh.”
From behind us came small whispers—
“Whew, look at that,”
“Kingdom’s most jealousy-inducing gesture.”
Even the teachers’ table stared silently.
No one stopped her.
No one could.
Because she had it all—pedigree, grades, work ethic, and that strange aura of happiness itself.
Leon sat at a distance, fork in hand, silent.
Rutia’s gentle smile unraveled softly before him—
her eyebrows lowered, her eyes laughing faintly.
A face he had never seen at the palace.
“…So this really is her true self.”
A sting pricked his chest.
But he exhaled slowly and loosened his shoulders.
“I’ll walk my own path.
I’ll face Philia properly.”
He handed her some bread.
“Careful—it’s hot. Honey butter. Your favorite, right?”
“Eh? You remembered…?”
“Of course. I remember everything—what you like, what you don’t.”
Philia’s eyes shimmered, but she looked straight at him.
“Thank you, Your Highness.”
I caught the scene from the corner of my eye and nodded inwardly.
(Good. That’s how it should be.)
Rutia nudged my side with her elbow.
“Eyes over here.
You should be looking at me.”
“Yes yes, ma’am.”
“Madam.”
“Not budging on that one, huh.”
At the cashier counter:
“Hey, auntie, we ate plenty today, so how ‘bout a little discount—”
“No discounts.”
“Negotiation failed in one second!”
A sleek black card slid out beside me.
“Charge it to Professor Kai’s research fund.”
“Oi, stop that!”
“Then to the household budget.”
“That’s worse!”
The lunch lady laughed tearfully.
“You two really do make a perfect pair.”
“You flatter me.”
“This isn’t the time to blush—we still have to prep the afternoon lecture.”
She grabbed my arm and half-dragged me along.
(A happy abduction in progress.)
◆◇◆
Afternoon—public demonstration.
The auditorium was packed.
I tapped the chalk on the board.
“Today’s lesson—‘How to Stop Magic.’
Don’t fear your opponent’s spell.
Grasp its structure.”
Rutia stood at the front corner, managing time.
She orchestrated the question order with precision.
“You there next. Then you. Kai, take the right side.”
I drew formulas and pointed to distortions in the magic circle.
“Here. This is the pivot point.
Hold it here, and the rest collapses on its own.”
Students’ eyes widened.
“Try it.”
A small light bloomed.
A trembling hand, a beaming smile—first success.
Rutia whispered, “Well done,”
and handed the student a palm-sized candy labeled Distributed on behalf of the teacher.
(She’s thorough, I’ll give her that.)
In the shadowed row, Prince Leon stood with folded arms.
Saying nothing.
Just watching.
Each wave of laughter softened the stiffness from his face, bit by bit.
(I have to admit it…)
(That’s the real Rutia now—the one I never knew.)
There was still a dull ache in his chest.
But it wasn’t hatred.
It was the gentle ache of touching something long left behind.
When the class ended, he slipped behind the hall.
Philia stood waiting, notebook in hand.
“Your Highness… may I have a moment?”
“Of course. But—let me speak first.”
He drew a breath, choosing his words carefully.
“Before, I told you to stay away from that teacher.
That was my immaturity.
I won’t narrow your world again.
I want… to see the same horizon as you.”
Philia looked surprised—then smiled softly.
“That makes me very happy, Your Highness.
I do like Professor Kai’s teaching.
But… my feelings have always been toward you.”
“I know. And I’ll answer them.
…I’ll make you happy.”
He held out his hand.
She gently laid her fingers upon his.
Her shy smile wavered—but her eyes no longer did.
◆◇◆
Evening.
At the edge of the schoolyard, beneath the silver-leaf trees.
The wind was mild.
Rutia dusted off the hem of my robe.
“Powder. Proof of a good day’s work.”
“Don’t leave it like a trophy.”
“Keep the memory, lose the dust.
Now hold still.”
I stayed quiet as she finished, and she nodded with satisfaction.
“Good. Let’s go home, Kai.”
“Right.”
A soft scarf wrapped around my neck—
faint scent of honey.
“The night breeze is bad for your throat.”
“You say that every time.”
“And I’ll make you obey every time.”
“Alright, alright. I’ll behave.”
I laughed naturally.
So did she.
Passing students whispered, “They’re so pure…”
and another replied, “I’m writing that in my diary.”
(Cut it out.)
Halfway down the stone steps, Rutia stopped.
“Hey, Kai.”
“Yeah?”
“How many points for you today, out of ten?”
“Hundred outta ten. My self-grading’s generous.”
“Then I’ll grade you. Ninety-eight.”
“Oof, tough critic.”
“You refused one ‘say ahh’—minus two.”
“That counts!?”
We laughed as we walked.
Two shadows stretched long and side by side.
The sunset made them the same length.
◆◇◆
Night.
In the dorm room.
A pile of assignments stacked high on my desk.
Red pen gliding, circles multiplying.
“Teacher, your shoulders are stiff.”
“Old age.”
“You’re in your twenties.”
Her fingers pressed my shoulders precisely where it hurt.
“Ow—yeah, right there…!”
“Too loud. Bad for your throat.”
“Harsh.”
She set down a steaming cup.
“Chamomile tonight. You’ll be speaking tomorrow, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Then I’ll protect it—your voice, your back, all of it.”
The words settled quietly, leaving warmth in their wake.
I turned and bowed my head honestly.
“…Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
She gazed at the twin moons outside, and I drew the last red circle.
At the desk’s corner, a doodled student memo read:
Today’s Married Comedy Duo Score: 99 points.
+2 for natural “say ahh.”
Teacher’s quips: sharp as ever.
(Don’t grade us, you brats.)
But really, it wasn’t bad.
Tomorrow again—laugh, teach, be protected, protect.
Day by day, it all stacked up.
The corridors were quiet now, the stone cooled.
Far away, atop the palace tower, one prince stood in the night wind.
Leon closed his eyes, inhaling deeply.
“If only she’d ever smiled like that at me…”
Regret lingered.
But his next words held no doubt.
“No… enough of that. I’ll be happy—with Philia.”
He placed a hand over his chest.
The pulse beneath his fingertips was steady.
Tomorrow, he’d be kinder.
More straightforward.
With that resolve, he descended the tower.
The royal capital’s night was peaceful.
How comforting, to end the day with laughter.
(But still—this is just the prelude.
Peace is merely a rest before becoming stronger.)
I tightened my scarf and gave the moon a little nod.
“Well then—let’s do our best again tomorrow.”
