"Halo."
Suaranya halus. Seimbang. Halus seperti kemasan.
Semua orang berbalik.
Jesse mengangkat pandangannya—lalu membeku, hanya sejenak.
Rambut pink.
Mata ungu.
Valeria Olarion.
Puteri dari garis darah Arcanis yang terkenal. Seorang mahasiswi yang tidak hanya dikenal karena kekuatannya, tetapi juga karena keterukainya. Seorang nama yang datang dengan beban... dan tatapan yang terlalu bersih untuk diabaikan.
Senyum Valeria lembut. Tidak meremehkan. Tidak tajam. Tapi ada sesuatu di baliknya yang tidak bisa Jesse baca dengan jelas. Sesuatu...
Matahijau.
Sebagai jika seutas benang tersambung longgar dalam anyaman percakapan santai, ketegangan meresap dengan tenang—halus tapi tepat.
Lingkaran itu berhenti.
Valeria Olarion tidak membuat kebisingan. Ia tidak perlu.
Ia bergerak seperti kelopak jatuh ke kolam air yang tenang—tanpa suara, tapi semua mata mengikutinya.
Jesse tegap secara instinktif, jari-jemarinya sedikit kaku di sisi.
'Ia di sini.'
Ia tidak mengharapkannya. Tidak benar-benar. Tidak setelah tatapannya dari seberang courtyard. Tidak setelah duel itu. Tidak setelah cara Lucavion berdiri dekat dengannya—berbicara dengannya—sebelum upacara. Jesse telah berasumsi bahwa gadis itu akan tinggal di lingkaran penerus-penerus yang bersih dan favorit akademis.
Tapi sekarang, Valeria berdiri di sini.
Di dalam lingkaran mereka.
Mengenakan gaun lily-stis yang dijahit dengan benang muda-biru, cukup pendek hingga di atas betis, ringan cukup untuk menari, elegan cukup untuk menyudutkan kerajaan dengan sekadar kesempatan. Rambutnya—pink pallal, hampir perak di dalam cahaya sekitar—ditata di belakang satu telinganya, mengungkapkan rantai perak kekekalan yang indah di bawah dagunya.
Dan matanya—
Mereka terus terikat pada Jesse.
Bukan tidak sopan. Bukan menantang.
Hanya... langsung.
Seolah-olah ia telah melihat melewati setiap kata yang tak terucapkan selama duel itu.
Seolah-olah ia sudah tahu terlalu banyak.
"Valeria Olarion," katanya dengan halus, mencondongkan kepalanya dengan anggun yang dilatih di pengadegan. "Dari Rumah Olarion. Senang bertemu."
Para bangsawan Arcanis—yang paling dekat dengan lingkaran itu—langsung tegap. Beberapa mengadakan bunga sopan, yang lain mengumbar pengakuan.
"Lady Olarion—betapa langka," seseorang membisikkan lagi, napas tertarik antara kagum dan keheran.
Suara lain—seorang pemuda dari Rumah Verdine—membisikkan, "Tidak berpikir ia akan hadir ke sesuatu seperti ini..."
"Bukan dunianya," seseorang lagi menambahkan, hampir kepada dirinya sendiri.
Valeria mencondongkan kepalanya sedikit, menangkap kata-kata itu tanpa menoleh ke pembicaranya. Senyumnya tidak berubah, tapi ada jeda singkat—cukup untuk menandakan bahwa ia telah mendengar.
"Kenapa?" tanyanya lembut.
Pertanyaan sederhana.
Dan meskipun begitu, ia jatuh seperti batu ke dalam air yang tenang.
Para bangsawan Arcanis—cerah, bersih, dilatih untuk kecerdasan dan manuver—diam.
Tidak satupun menjawab.
Bukan karena mereka tidak punya pemikiran, tapi karena tidak ada yang berani mengucapkannya.
Karena apa katanya kepada gadis seperti dia?
Karena biasanya kamu tidak memberi kami kesempatan untuk hadir.
Karena kamu cenderung berjalan sendirian di acara seperti ini.
Karena semua orang tahu Lucavion tidak akan bertarung tanpa kamu di penonton.
Karena rumahmu dahulu melindungi Putih... dan sekarang, kamu hampir tidak pernah muncul sama sekali.
Tapi tidak ada yang mengatakan itu.
Alih-alih, mereka menurunkan kepala sedikit. Santun. Sunyi.
Hormat.
Terlalu hormat.
Jesse menangkap semuanya.
Ia menyaksikan cara Valeria menyodorkan pertanyaannya—mengangkat udara dari kelompok—bagaimana bahkan yang paling ceria tidak berani menyindir dalam jawaban.
Bukan hanya rasa kagum.
Ada berat.
Di seberang, ini adalah sesuatu yang memang keluarganya memang kurangi.
Mungkin karena cara ia bersikap.
Jenis yang membungkuk sekitar nama yang dipenuhi oleh sesuatu yang lebih lama.
'Wanita yang aneh.'
Wanita ini aneh.
Dan ketika keheningan itu bertahan, para mahasiswa Lorian—yang agak lebih kaku, meskipun hanya karena kurangnya pengenalan terhadap hierarki Arcanis—bergerak.
Beberapa dari mereka mengajukan diri.
Bukan dalam tantangan. Bukan dengan keberanian.
Tapi dengan jenis kehati-hatian yang dicadangkan untuk nama-nama lama dan bayangan panjang.
Tepat pada saat itu, seseorang menyalami.
"Sungguh suatu kehormatan, Lady Olarion. Nama rumah Anda masih terdengar di seberang laut."
Yang lain mengikuti. "Meskipun Dukedom tidak lagi dipertahankan secara formal... Olarions dahulu berdiri di sisi Putih, bukan? Pelindung garis lama."
Senyum Valeria tidak pudar.
Tapi kehangatan di baliknya turun setengah.
Bukan sampai ke es.
Tapi ke sesuatu yang lebih lama.
Lebih keras.
Ketika si murid Lorian menyebutkan judul—tidak lagi dipertahankan secara resmi—sesuatu di ekspresi Valeria berubah. Hanya sedikit. Cukup untuk terlihat.
Jesse yang pertama melihatnya.
Halus, takterlalu terlihat bagi kebanyakan: perubahan sudut hidung Valeria, ketenangan yang ada di matanya yang tidak ada sebelumnya. Bukan kemarahan. Bukan kegaduhan. Tapi sebuah penarikan. Seperti tirai yang menutup di belakang kaca berwarna.
Udara kembali tegang.
Bangsawan Lorian yang berbicara itu berkedip, menyadari terlalu lama garis yang ia tembus.
Dan lalu—
Cali melangkah masuk.
Ringan seperti biasa. Tajam saat perlu.
"Oh, Lady Olarion," katanya dengan cepat, menyulam senyum mint maaf saat ia memeluk lengan sampai setengah jalan melalui Jesse seolah-olah ia selalu milik—seperti itu adalah kebiasaan. "Jangan mindingi dia. Kami telah minum terlalu banyak catatan kaki dan terlalu sedikit fakta. Tidak ada penghinaan yang dimaksud—hanya kekaguman."
Ia mengadakan senyum—indah cukup untuk diplomasi, santai cukup untuk diterima sebagai pesona.
Valeria berbalik kepadanya.
Dan setelah sejenak... mengangguk sekali.
"Tidak ada kebohongan yang terucap," katanya dengan tenang. "Judulnya dicabut. Kita tidak mengagak-apikannya."
Tapi suaranya—
Jelas.
Tajam seperti pedang seorang ksatria.
Ia mengambil pernyataan itu dengan lurus—seperti armor yang menangkap serangan. Ia tidak gemetereng, tidak dibengah. Ia mengenakan kebenaran seolah-olah itu adalah baja yang melindunginya. Dan entah bagaimana... itu membuatnya terasa lebih besar di ruangan ini.
Tidak ada kebanggaan yang terluka.
Hanya jenis ketenangan yang berasal dari bertahan melalui sejarah itu sendiri.
Jesse memendam mata, membatasi tatapannya pada Valeria—diukur, waspada.
Karena ia tidak benar-benar percaya pada wanita ini.
Tapi pujian dari seseorang seperti dia?
Datang dengan berat.
"Aku tidak berusaha untuk menakutkan siapa pun," kata Jesse dengan pelan.
"Aku hanya ingin mengingatkan seseorang."
"Hello."
The voice was smooth. Balanced. Polished.
Everyone turned.
Jesse looked up—then froze, just for a heartbeat.
Pink hair.
Purple eyes.
Valeria Olarion.
Daughter of a famed Arcanis bloodline. A student noted not just for power, but for restraint. A name that came with weight... and a gaze that cut too clean to be dismissed.
Valeria’s smile was soft. Not mocking. Not sharp. But there was something beneath it Jesse couldn’t quite read. Something... watchful.
The circle stilled.
As if a thread had snapped loose in the weave of idle conversation, tension crept in quietly—soft but precise.
Valeria Olarion’s presence wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be.
She moved like a falling petal through a still pond—no sound, but all eyes followed.
Jesse straightened instinctively, her fingers tightening just slightly at her side.
’She’s here.’
She hadn’t expected it. Not truly. Not after that stare from across the courtyard. Not after the duel. Not after the way Lucavion had stood close to her— spoken to her—before the ceremony. Jesse had assumed the girl would remain in the Arcanis cluster of polished heirs and scholarly favorites.
But now, Valeria stood here.
In their circle.
Wearing a lilac-stitched gown cut just above the ankle, light enough to dance in, elegant enough to bow kingdoms with a blink. Her hair—pale pink, almost silver in the ambient glow—was tucked behind one ear, revealing a delicate chain of imperial silver resting just beneath her jaw.
And her eyes—
They were locked on Jesse.
Not rudely. Not challengingly.
Just... directly.
As if she had seen through every word unspoken during the duel.
As if she already knew too much.
"Valeria Olarion," she said smoothly, dipping her head with court-trained grace. "Of the Olarion House. It’s a pleasure."
The Arcanis nobles—those nearest to the circle—straightened immediately. A few offered formal bows, others murmured acknowledgment.
"The Lady Olarion—how rare," someone whispered again, breath caught between admiration and disbelief.
Another voice—a boy from the House of Verdine—murmured, "Didn’t think she’d attend something like this..."
"Not her scene," someone else added, almost to themselves.
Valeria tilted her head slightly, catching the words without looking at the speakers. Her smile didn’t shift, but there was a faint pause—enough to signal that she had heard.
"Why?" she asked softly.
A simple question.
And yet, it landed like a stone dropped into still water.
The Arcanis nobles—bright, polished, trained for wit and maneuver—fell silent.
Not one of them answered.
Not because they didn’t have thoughts, but because none dared voice them.
Because what do you say to a girl like her?
Because you don’t usually grace us with your presence.
Because you tend to walk alone at events like these.
Because everyone knows Lucavion wouldn’t have fought without you in the audience.
Because your House once protected the Crown—and now, you barely show up at all.
But no one said that.
Instead, they bowed their heads slightly. Courteous. Quiet.
Respectful.
Too respectful.
Jesse caught it all.
She watched the way Valeria’s question sucked the air from the group—how not even the most talkative dared offer a jest in reply.
It wasn’t just reverence. It was weight.
In hindsight, this was something that her family indeed lacked.
Maybe it was the way she carried herself.
The kind that surrounded a name steeped in something older.
’Strange woman.’
This woman was strange.
And when the silence lingered, the Lorian students—slightly less shaken, if only because they were less familiar with Arcanis hierarchy—moved.
A few of them stepped forward.
Not in challenge. Not in boldness.
But with the kind of caution reserved for old names and long shadows.
Just then someone greeted.
"It’s an honor, Lady Olarion. Your house name still carries across the sea."
Another followed. "Even if the Dukedom’s no longer held formally... the Olarions once stood at the side of the Crown, didn’t they? Protectors of the old line."
Valeria’s smile did not waver.
But the warmth behind it cooled by a fraction.
Not to ice.
To something older.
Sterner.
The moment the Lorian girl mentioned the title— no longer held formally —something in Valeria’s expression turned. Just slightly. Just enough.
Jesse saw it first.
It was subtle, too subtle for most: the shift in the angle of Valeria’s jaw, the quiet stillness in her eyes that wasn’t there before. Not anger. Not offense. But a withdrawal. Like shutters closing behind stained glass.
The air grew taut again.
The Lorian noble who had spoken blinked, realizing too late the line she’d crossed.
And then—
Cali stepped in.
Light-footed as always. Sharp when it mattered.
"Oh, Lady Olarion," Cali said quickly, flashing an apologetic smile as she looped her arm halfway through Jesse’s like it had always belonged there. "Don’t mind her. We’ve been drinking in too many footnotes and too few facts. No disrespect was meant—only awe."
She offered a slight bow—graceful enough to be diplomatic, casual enough to pass for charm.
Valeria turned to her.
And after a breath... nodded once.
"No lies were spoken," she said quietly. "The title was stripped. We do not pretend otherwise."
But her voice—
It was clear.
Sharp as a knight’s blade.
She took the statement head-on , like armor catching a strike. She did not flinch, nor deflect. She wore the truth as if it were steel over her spine. And somehow... it made her feel even larger in the room.
There was no wounded pride.
Only the kind of poise that came from surviving history itself.
Jesse narrowed her eyes, watching the lines around Valeria’s mouth, the precision of her breath. This wasn’t a girl humiliated by a political fall. This was a girl forged in the aftermath. Someone who didn’t need the title to command respect—because she had already earned it somewhere else.
And then—
Valeria looked at her.
Straight on.
Their eyes locked.
"I watched your performance," she said, no rise, no dip in tone. Just clarity.
Valeria’s words didn’t come with the syruped cadence of flattery.
They didn’t need it.
She tilted her head ever so slightly, voice even. "Your sword was swung not to impress—but to reach. It wasn’t clean. Not perfect. But it was honest."
That earned a flicker in Jesse’s eyes. Not a reaction—just a spark of acknowledgment. A language warriors understood: She saw it.
Valeria went on, her tone untouched by sarcasm. "Prince Adrian mentioned earlier—quietly, of course—that according to Lorian customs, the one representing them isn’t composed of the Empire’s strongest."
She let the weight of that settle.
Then—
"But if what I saw today wasn’t your strongest... then we might be in more trouble than we thought."
The Arcanis nobles nearby went still. Half stunned. Half amused. A few of them exhaled as if holding back laughter—but not mocking. Not this time.
And the Lorian nobles—
They shifted. Just slightly.
Because she was right.
Jesse’s performance had exceeded every quiet expectation they’d nursed behind folded hands and formal etiquette. She had been good. Far better than they could’ve anticipated from a girl once whispered about only in the context of "Burns" and "war."
A beat of silence followed—until one of the students, cleared his throat.
"Well," he said with a tight smile, "I wouldn’t say we’re holding back all our strongest. That would be... rude."
A ripple of low laughter passed through the group. Carefully measured. Politely amused. No one dared look proud—Lorian arrogance had been punished too many times on too many stages.
But still.
There was pride.
Even Adrian’s mouth twitched at the corner, a half-smile threatening.
Cali grinned wider and nudged Jesse with her elbow. "Congratulations. You’ve become our terrifying secret weapon."
Jesse didn’t reply at first. Her gaze remained on Valeria—measured, cautious.
Because she didn’t quite trust this woman.
But praise from someone like her?
It carried weight.
"I wasn’t trying to scare anyone," Jesse said quietly.
"I just wanted to remind someone."
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