Chapter 15- Afterthought

The cool glass fogged up as Noah pressed his warm breath against it. With quiet focus, he raised a small finger and traced a simple round cat head onto the misty surface, giving it two perky ears and tiny whiskers. It joined the faded remnants of his earlier doodles, some barely visible as time had softened their shapes.

Beyond them, the picturesque garden stretched out below, the neatly trimmed hedges and bud-laden branches of early spring serving as an unintentional backdrop to his fleeting artwork.

A soft creak echoed through the quiet room as the door swung open.

"Master Noah, I've brought your afternoon snacks," Bell's warm voice drifted in as she stepped inside, carefully balancing a tray in her hands.

The enticing aroma of baked goods and warm tea followed her in, filling the air with a cozy sense of comfort.

Noah turned from his drawings, his gaze immediately locking onto the tray. Arranged neatly on a delicate porcelain plate were flaky butter pastries, golden-brown and glistening with a thin layer of honey; bite-sized tea sandwiches filled with fruit preserves; and tarts adorned with glossy candied fruit pieces that gleamed under the light.

The spread was accompanied with a pot of freshly brewed chamomile tea, its floral fragrance mingling with the scent of warm pastries.

Bell set the tray down on a small table by the window, smiling at the boy, who had already scooted closer, his eyes fixed on the food.

"You've been working hard today, haven't you?" she said as she poured him a cup of tea, the soft clinking of porcelain echoing lightly in the room. "Make sure you eat well. You'll need the energy."

Noah needed no further encouragement. He eagerly picked up a tart, biting into it with a satisfied hum. The buttery richness melted on his tongue, followed by the sweet tang of the candied fruit. He chewed slowly, savoring each bite with delight.

His small hands wrapped carefully around the teacup as he took a sip, letting the warmth spread through his chest.

After a few more bites of the tarts, his curiosity was piqued by the unfamiliar taste of the candied fruit. He glanced up at Bell, tilting his head. "Bell, what's this fruit?"

Bell chuckled at his curiosity. "That's called a moonberry. But these ones are preserved. The fresh ones aren't in season right now."

Noah blinked with interest. "The real ones are even better?"

"Oh, much better," Bell said with a nostalgic smile. "They're soft, juicy, and incredibly sweet. You'd definitely love them."

Noah hummed in thought before taking another bite, trying to imagine the fruit at its best. "When… can I have them?"

Bell tapped her chin. "Well, they might be in season just in time for your birthday. We could even bake a cake with them."

She suddenly paused, her brows lifting slightly as a realization dawned.

"Speaking of birthdays… Master Lucien's is coming up soon."

Noah perked up. "Brother's birthday?"

Bell nodded. "It's on March 12. Just a few days away."

Excitement bubbled inside him at the thought. His mind instantly jumped to birthday celebrations and warm gatherings.

"Do you think we'll have milk cake? I think Brother Lucien will like it," he wondered aloud, a nostalgic longing slipping into his voice.

The memory of its warm, soft texture filled his thoughts. Aunt Mira had baked it for him once, sneaking him a piece while her sons were out playing. He remembered how she'd secretly pass him a slice, her finger pressed to her lips in a silent promise. If her sons had seen, they would've snatched it away immediately.

A small smile formed on his lips at the memory, but before he could drift too far into the past, Bell's voice gently pulled him back.

"Master Noah," she said softly, "Master Lucien won't be home for his birthday. He'll be at the academy."

Noah's smile faltered. "Oh."

He lowered his gaze, idly tracing the rim of his teacup with his fingertip. A faint heaviness settled in his chest.

Bell, sensing his disappointment, quickly spoke up. "Why don't we bake a cake and send it to him?" she suggested with a reassuring smile. "That way, he can still celebrate with his friends."

Noah hesitated for a moment before his eyes lifted. "Really? We can do that?"

"Of course," Bell assured him. Though, deep down, she wasn't sure if Lucien would even eat it. But she kept that thought to herself.

Noah beamed. "Then we should make the best cake ever!"

Bell let out a laugh, pleased to see his excitement return.

With his mood lifted, Noah returned to his snacks, happily nibbling on the rest of his snacks while sipping his tea.

By the time Mr. Wilson arrived for his lessons, Noah felt ready, his heart carrying the lingering sweetness of the afternoon.

- - - - - -

The day had been as demanding as ever for Lucien, filled with relentless discussions and meticulous planning. With the committee's exhaustive deliberations finally concluded, it was finally time to put their strategies into motion.

Lucien exited the meeting hall, his long strides carrying him through the brightly lit corridor. Even among the older students, his height and refined demeanor made him stand out. His uniform remained immaculate, his movements effortlessly poised, exuding a quiet confidence that made others instinctively step aside as he passed.

The low murmur of students around him faded into insignificance as he walked, the cool lighting casting long shadows behind him.

Then, a hesitant voice broke through the hum of conversation.

"Um… excuse me!"

Lucien halted, turning his head slightly before pivoting to face the source of the voice. His gaze landed on a petite girl standing a few steps away. She had dark brown hair styled into two neat braids, her delicate features framed by wisps of loose strands. Her large, nervous eyes flickered up at him before darting away.

His presence alone seemed to unnerve her as she clutched a small gift bag in front of her with trembling hands.

Lucien observed her silently, his expression stoic.

"Yes? What can I help you with?" His voice was calm and polite but utterly detached.

"I…"

The girl hesitated, fidgeting as if struggling to gather her words. Then, she inhaled sharply and stepped forward, lifting the bag toward him with trembling hands.

"This… is for you." Her voice wavered slightly.

Lucien's gaze flickered to the bag, but he made no move to take it. "What for?" he asked, his tone devoid of curiosity.

The question made her flinch. She bit her lip, shifting from foot to foot as uncertainty clouded her features.

"I… I just wanted to give it to you because…" Her voice faltered as her fingers clenched tighter around the bag. "Because I like you."

The words seemed to cost her everything. Her cheeks flushed a faint pink, and her hands trembled as she extended the bag further toward him. Squeezing her eyes shut, she braced herself for his response.

The silence that followed was agonizing, stretching far too long for comfort. Her fingers shook harder, her heart pounding painfully against her ribs.

At last, a low voice cut through the tension.

"Sorry." Lucien's tone was polite but distant. "I have no intention of courting anyone."

The girl flinched slightly, her breath hitching, but she quickly forced a weak smile. "T-that's okay," she stammered, though her voice lacked its initial strength.

She took a deep breath, blinking away the moisture forming in her eyes. "I-I just wanted to tell you how I feel. That's all."

She hesitated before holding the bag out once more, her hands trembling but determined. "But please… at least take this. I prepared it just for you."

Lucien remained impassive as he regarded her.

A faint breeze rustled the hallway curtains, carrying the lingering scent of tea from the earlier meeting.

He exhaled quietly before extending his hand, his fingers brushing against the delicate paper handle.

"Alright," he said simply.

The girl's lips parted slightly, relief washing over her. "Thank you so much!" she said, her voice a little brighter.

Lucien gave her a small nod, a silent farewell, before turning away. His movements were fluid, unwavering, as if the entire interaction had left no lasting impression. He walked away without looking back, his footsteps echoing lightly against the polished floor.

The girl remained rooted in place, her fingers curling slightly from where they had once held the bag. Her breath wavered as she blinked rapidly, swallowing the sting of rejection before exhaling a quiet sigh.

Lucien, meanwhile, continued down the corridor, the bag dangling loosely from his fingers. He neither looked at it nor seemed to acknowledge its weight. His pace remained steady until he reached the quiet intersection leading to his dormitory.

Without breaking stride, he shifted his arm slightly to the side, releasing the bag into the nearest trash bin with an effortless flick.

The soft rustle of paper hitting the bottom barely registered in the empty hall.

Moments later, he reached his door and pushed it open without a second thought. The soft click of the latch sealed the room behind him, enclosing him in quiet solitude once more.