IWAPUF 31

To my grandfather, I must have always seemed a fragile child, bruised and vulnerable. That must
be why he felt that even Evan and Anasha weren’t enough—he went so far as to entrust my
protection to this young boy as well. Just how vast was the love he left behind for me? Tears
welled up, stinging my eyes.
“I have to become strong to protect Biyonne. Please, sister,” the child begged, his small hands
tugging desperately at the hem of my skirt. I blinked quickly, forcing back the tears that had
pooled. There was no need to let him see me falter.
“Why say that to me?” I asked, keeping my voice even. “If you want to grow strong, why not ask
Evan?”
“Because you’re the strongest, sister!” he cried, his words ringing with certainty.
Most boys his age looked up to knights—those towering figures in gleaming armor, swords
strapped to their waists, who loomed larger than life in a child’s imagination. I was just a
noblewoman, nothing extraordinary. What could he possibly see in me that shone with such
strength?
“Even the master can’t stand up to you, sister,” he pressed on. “That’s why you’re the strongest.”
His reasoning was so outlandish that a quiet laugh slipped out before I could catch it. Whether
someone had planted this notion in his head or it sprang from his own instincts, he already seemed
to sense the invisible threads of power weaving through the world. A spark of curiosity flickered
within me.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Rai,” he answered.
“Alright, Rai,” I said, tilting my head slightly. “Let’s suppose I am the strongest, as you say. But
why should I be the one to teach you how to become strong?”
His face froze, the confidence draining away. He clearly hadn’t thought that far. And why would
he? He was still so young—seven years old at most. At that age, when he wanted something, he’d
cling and cry until it was his. He hadn’t yet reached the point where he could weave words into a
convincing argument.
“Because you have to protect Biyonne too, sister,” he blurted.
“What?” I blinked, caught off guard.
“I know,” he said, his voice firming. “You’re part of our trading company, aren’t you? Everyone in
the company has to protect Biyonne.”
Rai’s yellow eyes fixed on mine, steady and unyielding. His emotions were running high—his
pupils had narrowed into thin, vertical slits, sharp as a blade.
“I have to protect Biyonne too?” I echoed, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.
“Yes,” he nodded, resolute.
His words stirred something in me, and I couldn’t help but laugh softly. He wasn’t wrong. I did
have to protect myself—my life, my happiness, everything I held dear. I’d shield it all with every
ounce of my being. Anyone who dared to reach for what was mine or shatter my peace would
regret it, no matter who they were.
“What do you want to become strong as?” I asked, studying him. “If it’s a knight or a merchant
you’re after, you’d be better off asking Evan or Anasha.”
“I want to become a noble!” he declared, his voice bright with ambition.
“Why?” I pressed.
“Because nobles are the strongest,” he replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
He was both right and wrong. The empire was built on rigid lines of class—nobles were like
distant stars to commoners and slaves, their words carrying the weight of life or death. But not
every noble was the same. Some bore titles yet lived worse than peasants, their grandeur a hollow
shell.
If all he wanted was to become a noble, that wasn’t impossible. For a commoner, climbing to such
heights was like trying to snatch a star from the sky—daunting, but not entirely beyond reach.
With the right circumstances, it could be done. One could rise through knighthood to earn a
lifelong title, or, though it was forbidden, buy a faded noble house’s rank with enough coin.
“A half-Inayari dreaming of nobility,” I mused aloud. “That’s an intriguing notion.”
“I’m not Inayari!” Rai shouted, his face twisting in defiance. His emotions surged, and those slit
pupils tightened even further.
“With eyes like that, you deny it so boldly?” I said, my tone cool and measured.
He ducked his head swiftly, as if to hide those telltale eyes. His sky-blue hair fell forward, draping
over his forehead and shielding his gaze.
“I… I…” he stammered, frustration etching his features. He bit his lip, chewing on it as he
struggled for a retort that wouldn’t come.
I could have brushed him off without a second thought. Normally, I’d have dismissed a child like
him and moved on. But today, a strange whim had taken hold of me. I wanted to see how far this
boy could go—this boy who vowed to protect Biyonne without even knowing who she was.
“Fine,” I said, my voice softening. “I’ll help you become a noble.”
“Really?” Rai’s head shot up, his eyes wide with sudden hope.
“But,” I added, “you’ll need to prove you’re worth it.”
“Worth it?” he repeated, puzzled.
“Yes,” I nodded.
“How?” he asked, his brow creasing.
“Enroll in the Rochester Academy,” I told him. “If you can graduate from there without anyone
uncovering your true identity, I’ll honor your request.”
The Rochester Academy stood as the continent’s most renowned institution, a place where they
honed skills in swordsmanship, diplomacy, politics, medicine, and more. It drew noble children
who weren’t in line to inherit their family titles—those seeking a lifelong title of their own
through the fastest, most certain path available.
Unlike other academies that guarded their gates with strict lineage, Rochester’s entry was less
rigid. Pass a simple test of basic knowledge, pay the tuition, and even a commoner could step
inside. But in practice, few commoners ever did. The “basic knowledge” they demanded—politics,
economics, history, languages, arts—was the kind noble heirs absorbed from private tutors since
childhood. It was a world apart from what most commoners could hope to learn.
And the tuition? It was astronomical, a burden that crushed not just commoners but even lesser
nobles. Inevitably, those who crossed the academy’s threshold were the offspring of wealthy noble
houses or the rare commoner with deep pockets.
Getting in was one thing—basic learning and money could open the door. But graduating? That
was a different beast. The academy demanded students conquer a series of brutal exams, and most
stumbled, leaving without a diploma in hand.
The exams at Rochester Academy were infamous for their difficulty. Merely possessing a
graduation certificate from there earned one the treatment of a quasi-noble, not just in the empire
but across the kingdoms. That was why noble offspring flocked to Rochester Academy. The
official education period spanned three years. There was no age limit for admission, but one had to
graduate within a maximum of seven years. Failure to do so resulted in automatic expulsion.
At the academy, students faced two exams each year. To advance to the next semester, they needed
to achieve perfect scores in at least five subjects from the many offered. Over the course of six
semesters, this meant securing perfect scores in five or more subjects to graduate. Even achieving
a perfect score in a single subject was a formidable challenge, let alone in five distinct fields. It
was no simple task. Most students either abandoned their efforts midway or were expelled after
exceeding the seven-year limit. Perhaps I was asking something unreasonable of the boy.
“If you’re not confident, you can always back out,” I said.
Rai chewed his lip again, his small teeth gnawing at the tender skin. Even a commoner child
would know of Rochester Academy—it was that renowned.
“If I graduate, will you really make me a noble?” he asked, his yellow eyes shimmering with
longing. They brimmed with excitement, anticipation, and a fierce determination.
“Yes,” I replied.
“I’ll do it!” he declared.
“I’ll arrange for you to enter the academy. But while you’re there, you must conceal yourself
completely. Your true identity must never be discovered by anyone.”
“I won’t let anyone find out,” he vowed.
“From the moment you step into the academy, you’ll have no ties to the trading company. If your
identity is ever exposed, it must not bring harm to the company.”
Rai’s face stiffened. The trading company was everything to him. To sever that bond would be like
a death sentence.
“Do you still want to go through with it?”
He fell silent, his thoughts churning. His lips, chewed raw, had swollen slightly. Finally, he
clenched his fists, resolve hardening in his eyes.
“I’ll do it,” he said firmly. “I’ll become a noble and protect Biyonne, no matter what.”
“Good. Then make it happen.”
A fleeting curiosity tugged at me—*Who is this Biyonne he speaks of?*—but I didn’t ask. There
would be time for that question once he’d achieved his goal.
*Click.*
“You!” Evan’s voice rang out as he entered, spotting Rai. The boy yelped in surprise and darted
behind me.
“You little—!” Evan’s face flushed with anger. He couldn’t push past me to grab the child, so he
settled for glaring, his features twisted in frustration. Rai fidgeted nervously behind my back.
“I apologize, my lady,” Evan said, bowing his head to me. “It’s my fault for not disciplining him
properly.”
In that brief moment, Rai seized his chance and bolted from the room. Even as he fled, he didn’t
forget to call back, “Sister, you have to keep your promise!”
Evan’s face turned a deeper shade of red, his expression the most animated I’d seen since we met.
“I’m truly sorry,” he repeated, his voice tight with embarrassment.
“It’s alright,” I assured him.
The conversation with Rai hadn’t been unpleasant. If he succeeded, I’d gain a capable scholar in
my service. There was no downside for me. And if he failed, well, the same held true. It might
sound callous, but cutting ties with him would be simple. Even if his identity were exposed, it
wouldn’t affect me.
I had merely presented the opportunity; the choice was his. He was young, but that didn’t mean
I’d go easy on him. I could only hope it wouldn’t come to me casting him aside.
“Is that the item I requested?” I asked, nodding toward the box in Evan’s hands.
“Yes,” he replied, still fidgeting under my gaze. At my question, he quickly extended the box
toward me. I took it and lifted the lid.
“It’s magnificent,” I murmured.
Inside lay the pendant I’d commissioned, crafted exactly to my specifications. It was a birthday
gift for Lant, inspired by the seal my grandfather had made for me. Nobles received their personal
seals at sixteen, but Lant was only twelve. Though he had four years left until adulthood, I wanted
him to have his own seal—a mark that was uniquely his.
The pendant’s engraving was intricate and beautiful: a wolf encircled by a three-leaf clover. The
clover symbolized happiness, and that was what I wished for my little puppy—eternal joy.
“I’ll escort you back to the estate,” Evan offered, moving to stand behind me as I rose from the
sofa. I had come here discreetly, without guards or maids, but I saw no need to burden him further
by accepting his escort.
“There’s no need,” I said. “Just call for the carriage, please.”
“Am I… a bother to you?” His voice was quiet, but there was a weight to it.
I turned to face him. His expression was earnest, his eyes locked on mine.
“I am your knight,” he said, each word deliberate. “Protecting you is my purpose, my duty.”
“I know you’re striving to honor the oath you swore to me,” I replied gently. “But don’t push
yourself too hard.”
Though Evan was my knight, I had no intention of binding him solely to that role. He was the
head of the Pison Trading Company first and foremost, and his talents far exceeded the confines of
knighthood.
“You don’t need to be shackled by your promise to my grandfather, Evan.”
I offered him a small smile, hoping to ease the tension. He was a man of rigid principles, the kind
who would drive himself to exhaustion to keep his word—both to my grandfather and to me.
Perhaps it was time to lighten his load, if only a little.