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🖤 The Villainess Just Wants to Sleep

Chapter 10: The Smile That Was Taught

> “Some children bloom. Others are carved.”

— Madam Everen

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The faculty salon of the Royal Academy was rarely used for student meetings. It was reserved for formal evaluations — or exceptional circumstances.

Kaelaira was invited there alone.

She entered with the calm of someone being summoned for tea, not for review by the empire’s most elite instructors.

Her robes were pristine. Not a hair out of place. Her steps silent. Her bow textbook.

> “Good afternoon, Professors,” she said with a voice like soft parchment.

At the round table sat:

Madam Everen, etiquette instructor, hands folded, eyes sharp.

Master Oriven, philosophy and political thought.

Captain Rouren, swordmaster and military strategist.

Lady Freya, the dean of Academy conduct, rarely seen.

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Captain Rouren spoke first. “You fight like someone twice your age. Who trained you?”

“My mother oversaw my sword studies,” Kaelaira replied, “but I trained alone.”

“Your footwork has a Northern edge,” he noted.

Kaelaira smiled, faintly. “I copied diagrams from war memoirs and practiced in silence. The Northern generals leave better footnotes.”

There was a pause.

Then Everen said, “And who taught you to curtsy so low your knees barely bend?”

> “You did, Madam,” Kaelaira said, bowing again.

The smile on her lips was delicate. Perfect. Polished. But empty — like glass reflecting sunlight but never catching warmth.

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Lady Freya, who had said nothing thus far, finally looked up.

“Do you know why you’re here, child?”

Kaelaira met her eyes. “To be warned, perhaps. Or studied.”

No fear. No pride. Just… precision.

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Master Oriven leaned forward. “You memorized the philosophies of three ancient dynasties by age ten. You copy rare scripts by hand. You analyze law better than many junior magistrates.”

He folded his arms.

> “Is there anything you don’t excel in?”

Kaelaira paused. Then offered her gentle smile again — so perfectly measured it made even Everen shift in her seat.

> “I struggle with resting, Master.”

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The room went still.

Everen tapped her fan against her palm slowly. “Tell me, dear… what makes you happy?”

Kaelaira blinked once. “Obedience.”

“Not peace? Joy?”

“Those are for free children, Madam.”

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Silence fell.

Then the political master spoke softly, voice tinged with something between wonder and horror.

> “Every breath she takes is placed with purpose. Like she’s performing, even alone. Like… someone taught her to be a statue.”

“She’s not performing,” Lady Freya whispered. “She’s surviving.”

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Kaelaira tilted her head. “Have I said something wrong?”

“No,” Everen said, voice quiet. “That’s what’s so troubling.”

The teachers stared at the girl who curtsied like a princess, debated like a scholar, fought like a soldier — and smiled like someone who didn’t remember how to cry.

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As Kaelaira exited the room, she passed a window and paused. The light hit her face just so.

She whispered under her breath:

> “Praise only sharpens the blade they’ve made me hold.”

Then she kept walking — elegant, unreadable, untouchable.

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End of Chapter 10

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