Magic Academy's Bastard Instructor

Chapter 231: Astrid [3]

Friedrich could only swallow hard.

One wrong move, one word of defiance, and the only fate that awaited him was death. The demonic miasma emanating from Vanitas was so vile and suffocating, so to the point that it clawed at the edges of sanity.

Friedrich’s stomach turned as he struggled to keep his composure. He could not see, for his face was pressed flat against the ground under Vanitas’s heel.

The crushing weight bore down on him, forcing the air from his lungs and twisting his insides until he nearly retched.

Whether it was the unbearable pressure or the bitter realization that he himself had brought Vanitas to the north, he could not tell.

And now, that very same man had the power to end his life at any moment.

“Astrea… you’re a traitor… to humanity…”

Yet Friedrich held no intention of begging for mercy. To plead for his life would be no different from surrendering his dignity, and that was a death far worse than any blade could deliver.

If he were to die here, then let it be at the hands of someone stronger, for at the very least, it would not bring shame upon the Glade bloodline.

But Vanitas’s next words only brought him confusion.

“I do not wish to kill you.”

“….”

“So enlighten me,” Vanitas continued. “Traitor? Have I not already told you my intentions before entering the phenomenon? I am just as confused as you are right now, Duke Glade.”

Despite the coldness in his voice, Friedrich could still sense a trace of respect in Vanitas’s tone, a sense of acknowledgment even as Friedrich lay pinned beneath his heel.

If he was genuine, then that could only mean one thing.

“The Saintess is not who you think she is…”

Vanitas was unaware.

“….”

Vanitas didn’t answer. Instead, he lifted his heel from Friedrich’s head and allowed the wind around them to fade. Friedrich slowly pushed himself up, his gaze fixed on Vanitas’s back.

The air was still thick with demonic miasma radiating from him, and the magic he had used moments ago harbored obvious traces of dark magic.

Even so, Friedrich remained idle. He said nothing, only studied the man before him until Vanitas finally spoke again.

“Selena.”

At his call, the girl stepped forward. She hid behind Vanitas, clutching her robe and peeking timidly at Friedrich with frightened eyes.

“So, what do you see?” Vanitas asked.

Friedrich’s eyes narrowed. Like Vanitas, the faint aura of demonic miasma surrounded her, though it was far weaker and barely noticeable, yet still there.

“Dark magic,” Friedrich muttered.

“That’s the Saintess’s conviction.”

“….”

“Do you understand now?” Vanitas continued. “You just tried to cut down a little girl whose only intent was to walk a burning bridge for everyone’s sake.”

Silence settled in the air before Vanitas began to explain exactly what had happened within the Lily of the Valley.

“To consume a demon….”

“Yes,” Vanitas confirmed, nodding. “It’s the practice of dark magic.”

“….”

“So if you wish to condemn me, go ahead and discuss it with the other Great Powers. But know this, if you choose to antagonize me, I will not hold back.”

Friedrich closed his eyes as if contemplating. When he finally opened them, he spoke.

“What are your true intentions?”

Vanitas didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he turned toward the Saintess beside him. Because of the difference in their height, he had to look down, yet Selena met his gaze resolutely.

Then, together, they turned to face the northern duke.

“A Holy War.”

* * *

Friedrich could only pinch the bridge of his nose. After the entire fiasco, the cleanup began. Knights and scholars who had fallen unconscious gradually regained their senses.

Despite the disorientation, they were quick to respond once they grasped the situation. Without hesitation, they moved to contain the collapsing phenomenon known as the Lily of the Valley.

Friedrich walked through its ruined halls in silence. To think that the very apparition which had taken the form of his late wife had been nothing more than a demon.

He stepped into one of the rooms. The walls were cracked, and particles of magic drifted through the air like fading embers.

“How ambiguous.”

Perhaps his judgment of Selena had been mistaken. He couldn’t be certain anymore. Trusting the Astrea faction now was difficult.

Yet Vanitas was another matter entirely.

To reveal himself as a dark mage and still spare his life was a gesture that defied reason. It meant that, despite everything, Vanitas had chosen to trust him.

And that, in itself, was something Friedrich could not take lightly.

Did it warrant reproach? Or was he already playing into the cult’s hand without realizing it?

No matter how he turned it over in his mind, Friedrich was certain that on that night, the Saintess had been there, at the very place where his son was murdered.

He stepped out of the room, lost in thought, until a small voice broke his silence.

“O-Oh.”

Selena was there, scratching the back of her neck with an awkward smile. Friedrich straightened and bowed his head in respect to the Saintess.

“Please, raise your head,” she said nervously.

Friedrich nodded and met her gaze. “Saintess.”

“Y-Yes?”

“You were there that night, weren’t you?”

“…Yes.”

“Why?”

“I followed the Marquess,” she admitted softly. “But the moment I saw the Thunderbird, I ran. The Marquess would have scolded me if he found out, so… I kept quiet.”

It was a believable excuse. No, quite a solid one. Friedrich could tell how protective Vanitas was of the Saintess, guarding her so closely it was as though he meant to keep her locked away like a bird confined within a gilded cage.

There was no need to further escalate his speculations. He had already asked for forgiveness, and forgiveness he was given despite the severity of his actions.

Friedrich walked ahead. Just before stepping out, he paused and glanced back at her.

“Exercises at night are good, but if you must train, end before midnight. You’ll gain more from consistency than exhaustion.”

With that, he turned and continued down the hall. Selena stood there, blinking her eyes in confusion as his figure disappeared from sight.

“…Exercises?”

Selena had absolutely no idea what he was talking about.

Still, she continued her own peculiar investigation of the Lily of the Valley.

The phenomenon was nothing short of fascinating. To think that mana of such magnitude could form an entire structure, complete with living entities within, was beyond comprehension.

From her observations, she concluded that the source was most likely a stigmata. The gathered scholars reached a similar finding, noting that it was a stigmata so potent it had drawn in both demons and spirits alike.

Even so, its true origin remained uncertain and under thorough investigation.

“Hm?”

Selena stopped mid-step and glanced down. Amid the rubble, a single, white flower bloomed where no life should have been possible.

There was no soil, and no traces of moisture, yet the flower survived, untouched by decay or time, as if the debris surrounding it were of no consequence.

“…How peculiar.”

Nearly an hour later, Selena finally stepped outside. She was still dressed in her maid uniform, though no one found it strange.

To the scholars, she was simply an inquisitive girl under the protection of Vanitas Astrea, the very scholar responsible for saving the remaining lives of those who survived.

“Marquess.”

Selena waited patiently until Vanitas finished giving orders to the knights before calling out to him.

“How was it?” he asked.

“There’s no sign of her.”

“I see.”

On that day, Astrid went missing.

“Then there’s no need to look for her.”

“Okay.”

Out of duty, scholars and knights alike searched tirelessly from dawn until dusk, yet there was not a single trace of the princess that could be found.

* * *

“Excuse me.”

Astrid pushed the door open, accompanied by a butler, and stepped inside the mansion.

“My god….”

“A-Astrid… You’re Astrid, aren’t you?”

“….Yes.”

Before her was an elderly woman with fiery red hair, much like her sister Irene’s, though clearly dyed to hide the strands of gray beneath. Beside her, an old man with graying hair slowly approached.

The old man’s voice trembled as he drew closer. “It really is you…”

Astrid was caught off guard, unsure how to respond. The butler quietly bowed and excused himself, leaving the three of them alone in the spacious hall.

The woman covered her mouth with a shaking hand. “After all these years… we thought we’d never see you again.”

Astrid’s eyes softened. “Grandmother… Grandfather…”

At the sound of those words, both the old man and woman broke into tears. Her grandmother, Lady Barielle, stepped forward and embraced her tightly.

“You’re so grown now,” she whispered. “You have Julie’s eyes… but your father’s expression.”

Astrid’s chest tightened at the mention of her mother’s name. She hesitated before gently returning the embrace.

Her grandfather stood beside them, silent for a long moment, before speaking in a low voice.

“We prayed for this day to come,” he said. “That one of our blood would return to this house….”

“….Yes.”

Astrid had once questioned why visiting the Barielles was forbidden. Her brother’s orders that the Barielles were to be forgotten had been absolute.

When she dared to ask for a reason, he gave her nothing but a cold, silent glare that silenced any further words.

Her siblings had obeyed without question, and even her late father had turned his back on them, pretending they no longer existed.

For as long as she could remember, the Barielles had been cast aside by the very Imperial Family to whom they had given their daughter in marriage.

It was for that reason that Astrid had come. To see the truth with her own eyes, and to seek the answers that no one else dared to speak of.

Ever since that confrontation with Vanitas, Astrid had come to realize just how many secrets those around her had been keeping.

Every person she trusted, every bond she thought was genuine, had been built on half-truths and hidden motives.

She was tired of it. Tired of being treated like a child. Tired of being shielded from truths she had every right to know.

That evening, the Barielle estate was quiet. The servants had retired early. Astrid sat with her grandparents in the parlor.

Lady Barielle poured her a cup of tea and placed it gently before her.

“You must be exhausted.”

“Ah, no. I’m fine,” Astrid replied, though her voice lacked conviction.

Being in this house felt strange. She had always been told never to come here, yet it didn’t feel wrong to be in this house.

They talked for a long while. Her grandmother asked about her health, her studies, the capital. Astrid answered politely, though she often found herself looking around the room, taking in the details of her mother’s early years.

Paintings adorned the walls of landscapes and portraits. Her mother had always been fond of painting, even as a child, and the evidence of that love filled every corner of the room.

But one painting drew Astrid’s attention more than the rest. It depicted a single flower growing from the ground.

It was nothing remarkable. Yet as Astrid leaned closer, she felt notice something that was hard to miss.

There was mana injected into the painting.

“Did mother paint that?”

Her grandmother followed her gaze and smiled. “Ah, that one? Yes. I believe it was during one of our outings. She said the scene inspired her.”

As the evening went on, the air grew more comfortable. They dined together at a small table by the window, sharing a simple meal.

Her grandfather told stories of her mother’s youth, of her rebellious spirit, and of the way she used to sneak out of lessons to paint in the gardens.

“She had that same curiosity in her eyes that you do,” he said with a fond smile. “Always questioning everything, never satisfied with what she was told.”

Astrid returned a faint smile. “Yes, I was told Mother was a very bright student. Always at the top of her class.”

“Indeed,” her grandfather replied with a chuckle. “And because of that, she attracted quite a bit of attention. We used to receive letters almost weekly, requests for guardian approval for internships, invitations to research groups, even proposals from young nobles who had just learned how to hold a quill.”

Astrid smiled faintly, though it faded as another thought weighed on her mind.

“Perhaps… it’s an insensitive question,” she carefully began, “but I need to know. Why did the Imperial Family cast you aside?”

At her words, the warmth in the room seemed to wane. Her grandparents exchanged uneasy glances before turning back to her.

“That… we don’t know.”

Her grandfather’s tone followed. “We weren’t even informed when it happened. We didn’t know Julia had passed until a year later.”

Astrid’s eyes widened. “A year?”

Lady Barielle nodded, her voice trembling. “We wrote countless letters to the palace after our entry to the capital was restricted, but none were ever answered. Then, one day, a notice arrived. It stated only that Her Highness Julia Barielle had passed due to illness.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Astrid stared into her teacup. For a moment, she couldn’t speak.

Her grandfather sighed and leaned back in his chair. “After that, the gates to the Imperial Palace were closed to us. Every attempt to reach out was ignored. It was as if our family had been erased from their history.”

Astrid clenched her hands together under the table. “I see…”

After the night had settled, Lady Barielle rose from her seat and called for a maid to guide Astrid to her room.

“Uhm.” Astrid glanced at the maid beside her. “Is it all right if I stay in my mother’s old room?”

The maid hesitated for a moment, unsure how to answer. “I’ll ask the master and mistress first, milady.”

Moments later, Lady Barielle appeared at the end of the corridor.

“If that’s what you wish, then of course,” she said. “It’s been kept just as she left it.”

Astrid nodded gratefully. “Thank you.”

Entering the room, Astrid quietly locked the door behind her and took a moment to take in the sight before her.

“….”

She set her things down and slowly sat on the edge of the bed. Her thoughts churned endlessly.

The next moment, exhaustion won. Astrid lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling until her vision blurred and her eyes shut.

“….”

A sudden pulse spread through her body. Her eyes snapped open, her brows scrunching.

Above her, white, translucent flowers floated in the air with soft particles that drifted like stardust.

The flowers were hauntingly familiar.

“….”

She pushed herself up, eyes narrowing as she studied them more closely. The shape of each petal, the way the stem curved, they were exactly like the flower in that one painting downstairs.

At first, she hadn’t been certain. The painting’s details had been subtle. But now, seeing them up close, there was no mistaking it.

“Lily of the Valley.”

The flower was none other than a Lily of the Valley.