Let’s Go Together

Basamiel was utterly quiet, with all the students having gone out.

Warm sunlight streamed through the glass windows intricately adorned with the academy’s beautiful vine-like sculptures, casting soft light onto the clean, white marble floor. Adrian Heather walked alone down the hallway, a deeply content expression on his face as he passed beneath those windows.

With each step he took, the soles of his student shoes tapped rhythmically against the marble, the crisp sound echoing pleasantly through the corridor.

Adrian retraced the woodland path surrounding the academy that he had walked just yesterday. In the forest beside the academy, there was a vast lake. For a dragon, few things were as enjoyable as sitting quietly and watching sunlight dance and shimmer across the surface of that crystal-clear water.

That was when he sensed it—someone else was in the forest. The presence was steadily drawing closer. Adrian noticed the person from a distance, but deliberately made no move to acknowledge them. Whoever had come this far into the deep woods on a day off probably wanted to be alone—or so he thought.

…Apparently, the other person thought differently.

“Oh. Someone’s already here.”

It was Declaire Foster. She was dressed casually, her long gray hair loosely tied back. She always gave off an air of ease, and it seemed this was simply how she lived every day.

The Headmaster looked down at Adrian, who was lounging against a tree in the shade by the lake, and her gaze paused at his feet.

She silently observed the few rabbits curled up asleep at Adrian’s side. Just moments ago, they had been pressing up to him, asking to be petted, before giving up and simply lying beside him. As the Headmaster approached, the rabbits stirred, twitching their large ears alertly as they gauged the situation.

“Are those pets? Are they yours?”

“No.”

Adrian gave one of them a light nudge in the side with the tip of his foot, but the rabbit didn’t quite get the hint. Instead, upon waking, it simply hopped a bit and plopped itself comfortably down onto the dragon’s thigh.

“Well, they better not be. Dorm rules strictly prohibit keeping animals.”

“They really aren’t mine.”

Adrian addressed the Headmaster, though she didn’t seem particularly inclined to believe him. With a soft groan that sounded almost elderly, she eased herself onto the grass right beside him. Adrian glanced at her briefly, then turned his gaze back to the peaceful lake.

The two of them sat under the shade of the tree, saying nothing for a while, simply watching the sparkling ripples on the sunlit water.

They didn’t exchange a single word until Adrian broke the silence. The dragon, lost in thought, suddenly became aware again that someone was still sitting nearby. It dawned on him that this spot beneath the tree might actually be the Headmaster’s usual place of rest, and that he might be the one intruding. He liked quiet, peaceful rest—but it didn’t have to be here.

“…Do you come here often?”

“It’s the only place I can rest alone.”

Ah, so she wants to be alone. Adrian picked up on the meaning between the lines. He rose from the grassy spot where he had been sitting. At his movement, the rabbits around him startled and bounded away into the underbrush.

“I see. Then enjoy the rest of your weekend.”

“What? Where are you going?”

Declaire Foster opened the eyes she had been resting and looked up at Adrian, who was preparing to leave.

“Huh? Oh, I just thought you wanted to be alone.”

Honestly, Adrian didn’t particularly want to spend his break awkwardly sitting with someone either. That’s why, when the Headmaster had subtly hinted at wanting solitude, he’d actually been a bit relieved. But Declaire reached out, grabbed Adrian by the arm, and tugged him back down to the ground. He dropped beside her with a soft thud. He ran his hand over the spot on his arm where her palm—rough with scars and calluses—had touched.

“I usually don’t like kids much. But you’re quiet, so it’s fine.”

It probably wasn’t something a Headmaster should say, but Adrian didn’t take it to heart—after all, he wasn’t exactly a “kid.”

“Sit. Relax,” she said, giving him a light pat on the back.

Honestly, it would’ve been more relaxing if she weren’t there, but still, Adrian slowly settled back into the spot he’d been in earlier.

“That kid’s a brat, huh?”

“…Excuse me?”

“Mikhail. I’m talking about him.”

“…”

Was this a trap?

Adrian kept his gaze fixed on the lake, his expression unreadable. He silently tried to discern the intent behind her words. Declaire continued speaking plainly about the prince.

“It was right after his first war campaign. A short rest period. His Majesty had ordered him to stay in the castle and recover. The royal capital treated him well enough, sure, but… it wasn’t exactly exciting. I went to the training grounds every morning, and that’s where I met the prince.”

Declaire recalled the young prince’s pale, round face.

“If I’d had more free time back then, I might’ve handled his character training too… but I was busy getting shipped out to one war after another. And I only taught him one class, out of all the ones he was supposed to take—swordsmanship. That was it.”

She glanced upward in quiet recollection. Expecting her to handle the prince’s moral education felt like an absurd waste of national resources.

“When I first met him, he looked bored out of his mind. Just plopped down at the training grounds, doing absolutely nothing. His brothers were all busy with their governance lessons and other responsibilities… but that one? Couldn’t care less about the throne. And it’s not like there was anything else for him to get into. No matter what hobby we offered, he’d just sulk. Ever heard him play an instrument? It was a disaster. We forced him into a hobby just to try, and—ugh, it was a mess.”

Declaire’s memory flashed back to the day of the prince’s piano recital. A small, silver-haired boy no taller than her sternum had walked onto the stage dressed in a pristine white formal suit made just for the performance. His doll-like appearance, paired with the elegant silver of his hair, had drawn thunderous applause from the audience.

But the moment the boy began to play, those same applauding faces twisted in horror. Only the piano teacher managed to remain composed, sending a silent look that said, “I told you we shouldn’t have done this recital…”

No one in the royal family ever watched the recording of that tragic recital again.

“Anyway, he was cute when he was little. Sure, he wasn’t the most social even back then, but still—when I used to teach him things, the way his eyes would light up as he looked up at me… Now? Teach him anything and he goes absolutely rabid trying to use it on me.”

Ugh, just thinking about it gave her the creeps. The Headmaster scowled, cursing Mikhail under her breath.

“Still, I’m glad he’s made a friend at the academy.”

With that, she clapped Adrian hard on the back with her thick, muscle-bound arm. Startled out of his thoughts, Adrian winced and turned a pained grimace toward her. He didn’t bother correcting her misconception—he had enough tact to avoid saying he and Mikhail weren’t actually friends.

“…Yeah.”

He gave a lifeless answer, eyes still on the lake. Declaire looked at him and, grinning like some street thug, said, “Handsome kid like you—got a girlfriend?”

If I had one, I wouldn’t be spending my weekend like this, would I…? Adrian gave a faint chuckle and a noncommittal “Ha ha” in reply.

It was the Headmaster who stood first from the grassy spot.

“Well then.”

With that parting word, she got up in one smooth motion and resumed her walk through the woods, just as casually as she’d arrived. The golden dragon remained where he sat in the grass, watching her go, thinking to himself how strange she was.

For someone supposedly entrusting him with the prince, she hadn’t really shared any useful information. Wasn’t she supposed to give him at least a few compliments or positive traits to work with?

The moment she left, the rabbits that had darted into the nearby bushes began inching their way back toward Adrian.

Sitting in silence for a moment, Adrian thought back on their conversation, replaying it in his mind—until he finally landed on the right phrase.

That conversation was an emergency parent-teacher conference.