The Elegant Sea of Savagery

Chapter 3

* * *

Once class was over, Irina packed her books, her pencil case, and her dark red blanket. She looked sleepy and slightly irritated. But when she saw who came into the classroom through the back door, her face immediately lit up.

“Luuudwiiig!”

The boy had thick eyebrows and rather large, defined features. He covered his ears at Irina’s squeal, but soon spread his arms wide with a defeated smile and folded her in an embrace.

“Will you please be quiet, Rina? You’re scaring everyone,” he said scoldingly to the top of Irina’s head, which only came up to his chest.

The classroom was almost embarrassingly quiet, for there were only six other people including the Ilean teacher. Ludwig nodded apologetically for the noise, but the teacher merely gave them a benevolent smile. Ludwig put his hands on Irina’s back and pushed her out of the classroom.

When Irina laughed, apparently enjoying his discomfort, he grumbled, “Why are you even learning this?”

Ilean was a minority language, so to speak. Aristocrats of Kisen normally preferred to learn Imphenese, the language of a far more powerful neighboring country.

Irina, who’d been enthusiastically marching forward, made a somber face at his question.

“Doesn’t the teacher look terribly kind?”

“Yeah, pretty friendly,” Ludwig said.

“I had a feeling I wouldn’t get in trouble even if I fell asleep during class.”

When Ludwig furrowed his brow, Irina agreed before he could even say anything.

“I’m the problem, I know.”

Giggling together, they headed for an empty clearing where they wouldn’t be interrupted.

When Ludwig sat down on a long bench beneath a tree, Irina promptly laid her head on his lap. Playing with his girlfriend’s red hair, Ludwig suddenly thought of something.

“You know Ileanor...”

At the mention of the name that had caused quite the buzz in the Academy recently, Irina flinched before she could help it. Ludwig stared down at her, looking puzzled.

“Why are you so surprised?” he asked.

“Uh, no reason. What about Ileanor?”

“He’s back at the dorms. I think his suspension is over.”

Oh, that’s all? Feeling deflated, Irina nodded with her head still on Ludwig’s lap. Not long ago, Ileanor had been suspended from the Academy for a week, after running yet again into Martin and his gang.

Such incidents of bullying often happened in the Academy and were nothing special. But this time had been different. For Ileanor, who’d never shown any reaction up until then, had finally swung his fist back that day.

It was Martin, not Ileanor, who had started the fight and resorted to violence first. But could that justify Ileanor’s actions? This was a difficult question to answer for many, for the beating had been too one-sided, making it hard to claim that Ileanor was the victim.

Martin had already lost consciousness by then. And Ileanor, who’d continued to throw punches, ignoring the blood that splattered with every blow, had seemed like an executioner silently performing his job. It had made him look like he was malfunctioning.

Everyone watching had thought the same thing: He might... actually die. Ileanor had beaten his classmate with the intent to kill. The violence had been too brutal, too inhumane to watch, which was why the students had eventually brought in the adults.

Irina, who’d heard the news much later, felt both taken aback and guilty. She believed she was the one who’d caused it to happen, because she had provoked Martin first, making him take his anger out on Ileanor. But she was wrong. It was not Irina who had provoked Martin, but Ileanor Schuberg.

“I heard you slapped Count Georg’s son the day before,” Ludwig said.

Irina flinched again. “Huh? Oh... You heard about that?”

Fearless as she was, she was still self-conscious around her boyfriend, and she pulled a long face as if to say that she was the victim here. But Ludwig had known her since childhood, and he wasn’t one to be fooled.

“I’m begging you, Rina, please tame that temper of yours.”

Irina’s expression instantly changed as she bolted up. “Excuse me, but that bastard called me a crazy b*tch,” she said indignantly.

True, she had been the one to slap him first, and Martin had only cursed at her after that, but Irina conveniently chose to leave out the specific order of events. And now she was huffing in anger, as though she regretted not slapping him a second time.

But actually, it hadn’t been Martin Georg’s intention to swear at her.

“C-crazy b-b*tch...”

That just happened to be Irina’s nickname. She was just so unladylike and unpredictable that this was what the students secretly called her behind her back.

Once he heard Irina’s side of the story, Ludwig made a troubled frown. He couldn’t bring himself to tell Irina that it was her nickname, that Martin had simply called her in recognition and not out of spite. Ludwig was fond of Irina, but sometimes even he found his girlfriend’s tomboyish personality hard to handle. If he told her the truth, it was obvious she would flare up and blame him for not telling her sooner.

In the end, he sighed heavily and said the same thing as Marchioness Nordiak.

“I’m just worried you might get yourself into serious trouble someday.”

“Not that again,” Irina muttered.

“Just be careful, all right?”

Irina pursed her lips when her boyfriend sighed a second time. She looked like she had more to say, but instead, she returned her head to Ludwig’s lap, pouting as she recalled that day. The way those long fingers, whiter and more delicate than her own, had clutched the handkerchief she passed him.

Ileanor might think that Irina’s actions had been unsolicited kindness, attention that he’d never asked for, but in truth, Irina wasn’t a very kind girl. Quite to the contrary, she was just like Ileanor in that she couldn’t care less about other people. Frankly, Irina had always found Ileanor unlikable. She just couldn’t stand by and just watch someone being bullied.

And yet, every so often, she would sense him regarding his bullies with scorn and contempt, even though he was the one being humiliated. Whenever she caught that, she would be confused as to who he really was.

That day had been like any other. Ileanor had quietly listened to all those uncalled insults, without even bothering to defend himself when he was hit. Irina wasn’t one to feel a sense of justice or sympathy at such sights. But what had compelled her to help was a single shoe, moments away from stepping on Ileanor’s fingers.

It had been such a nasty and barbaric move. To be honest, not even Irina could understand why she’d wanted to stop those slender white fingers from breaking. This was all the students ever talked about for days. Nobody had ever imagined that Ileanor, the quiet pretty boy, could be so violent and sadistic. But now that everyone knew, no one would dare to try and pick a fight with him again. It was a happy ending for everyone, and yet...

“Hmm, something just doesn’t feel right,” Irina said with a scowl.

“What do you mean?” Ludwig asked.

“I don’t know. I just have this bad feeling, like I stepped on something.”

“What are you talking about, Rina?”

Irina’s hunch turned out to be right on the mark. But although it was accurate, she couldn’t figure out what exactly it was. After wrestling with her own thoughts for a while, she finally gave up and changed the subject.

“Luwi, did you hear the monarchy collapsed in Ils?”

“Ils?”

“Yes.”

“So they have a new king?”

“No, the entire system of monarchy collapsed.”

“Is that even possible? Who told you?” Ludwig asked in alarm.

“Who do you think? My Ilean teacher, obviously,” Irina replied calmly. “He doesn’t know much either, since Ils is so far away. But he was saying that maybe, well... maybe the social classes might collapse too.”

It was an outrageous, sacrilegious claim to make. Ludwig was greatly taken aback, but Irina didn’t seem to think much of it. Her mind was on something entirely different.

“So Luwi... If that really happens... Should we go to Ils and get married?”

It was an astonishingly optimistic idea, and a rather daring proposal. But Ludwig’s expression darkened.

“Do you think your father would ever allow it?”

Youngsters were now free to court whomever they wanted, and marriages for political alliances were slowly on the decline. But House Nordiak was still a prominent family, and the marquess especially favored his eldest daughter over his other two girls.

There was no way he would want his son-in-law to come from a lowly viscount’s household. Moreover, Viscount Fontern was Marquess Nordiak’s vassal. The marriage could never be on equal footing. But Irina seemed confident.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “My father would give in eventually. Because... well, it’s always been that way.”

“Does he know you feel this way?”

Ludwig was genuinely curious as to what gave her such confidence. However, Irina couldn’t answer so readily this time, and she knitted her pretty brow in uncertainty.

“Pro…bably?”

That was a potential no.

Ludwig stared at her in dismay, but Irina still sounded confident.

“Just bring yourself and come to me, my dear Luwi.”

Her face was endearing and radiant, without a single hint of darkness, and her golden eyes sparkled especially when they landed on something she liked. Ludwig still felt uneasy inside, but he couldn’t help but smile back at her.

This was Irina’s greatest strength—her total lack of fear or worry.

Scratching his thick eyebrow, Ludwig shyly replied, “You only need to bring yourself too.”

“Deal.”

They burst into laughter at the same time. It was a blissful moment for them. Winter was approaching. The next year, they would start another semester together. The young lovers were excited for what the future held.

And it was the very next day when Ileanor, having returned to the Academy, came looking for Irina.