She already knew. She'd always known that Ilex Davenport was more interested in her conversational Ontario class than in their GCSE prep class.
He often brought materials she didn't have so she could memorize them and shared information about trends in Ontario in recruiting candidates for public office that she was unaware of.
No matter how physically strong a person was, he could not avoid fatigue. It's not like some divine power gave him extra hours in the day. Therefore, it was clear that he was spending his limited time and energy on her.
His incomprehensible and inexplicable actions troubled Tilia's heart more and more. These feelings rolled around in her chest like an unbreakable egg on sleepless nights, and eventually nested in the corners of her heart and hatched. The hatchlings, chirping loudly like little birds, filled her mind with chaotic questions.
Why? Why is he so kind to me?
If he wanted her body, she would have realized it long ago. If he wanted her to become his mistress, he had plenty of opportunities to offer it. However, in all the months they spent walking together from night to dawn, Ilex never laid a finger on her.
He acted as if he was carefully avoiding repeating a past mistake, as if he was ensuring that he had no sexual intentions.
Remembering those days when he tried his best to hide any hint of such thoughts, the questions weighing on her became even heavier. Feeling suffocated under the weight of this load, she was dimly aware of something.
The reason she had felt the overwhelming sense of crisis earlier, on the shore of the lake, in the cold wind, when it threw sparks that threatened to burn her life to the ground, was because hot oil had already been poured on her heart.
The realization of her feelings squeezed her throat, stuck like a hook caught in her voice.
She couldn't stand it anymore. Even if her entire being was set on fire, she wouldn't care. She had to ask. She had to find out. As if driven by an irresistible fate, she parted her lips.
- Go to Ontario.
A man with eyes like a mist-shrouded sea spoke in a voice filled with sadness.
- Go there... and live your real life.
The moment to ask a question was lost, and Tilia was left standing in front of him with a blank look.
Was it an educated guess or just an empty hope that he seemed torn painfully between desire and reason?
- This is what you've always craved, isn't it? So...
He continued with difficulty and smiled dryly:
- Tilia. Head to Ontario first.
When he finished speaking, his ardent gaze fell on her. A castle built from imaginary bricks appeared before her eyes.
The familiar picture through the transparent windows framed by white curtains remained unchanged. A modest house full of things she earned herself. Inside, she sat comfortably, sipping warm tea with a serene expression on her face. But then another silhouette appeared outside the window, where she had once been alone.
A man who looked at her with gentle eyes and smiled tenderly. A man whose gray-blue eyes were the same as the ones that were now staring at her.
***
The hours, minutes and seconds that once rushed past the graduates of the Royal Academy now crawled like a turtle as the second exam approached.
With shadows under their eyes and hearts, they endured a painful period. And finally, when the last page of the calendar fell like the last leaf on a tree, the long-awaited day of the second exam arrived.
- T-Tilia.
Judy's trembling hands, which had already been trembling since last night, were now shaking violently, as if she was suffering from some kind of illness.
- I...I...I can handle it?
Tilia, who was looking at the exam hall with a determined expression on her face, smiled softly and placed a reassuring hand on Judy's shoulder.
- Certainly. What are you worried about? Just do it the way we practiced.
But the encouragement had the opposite effect. Like a fragile branch torn by the fierce winter winds, Judy burst into tears.
- What are you saying? I failed every time in training! Because of you and Ilex Davenport!
Pale graduates passing by the building looked at the sobbing Judy as if she were a ghost.
- N-no, Judy.
Finding herself between her lifeless peers and her almost neurotic friend, Tilia hastened to calm her down.
- Think about it. Since the training was hard, the reality will be easier, right? Plus, you always beat Mackenzie Fitz during training.
- What's the point in beating Mackenzie? - Judy screamed in fear. - This guy retook his graduation six times - six times! And today he will most likely fail for the seventh time! Defeating someone like him in a debate is like defeating a kindergartener...
- Judy Wells.
While she was sitting on the stairs blowing her nose, one of the group members appeared - the same one who, like her closest friend, had been driving her to despair all semester.
As always, with a straight face, it was Ilex Davenport, the top student.
- Stop whining and get up. It's time for the exam.
However, it seemed that even he was not immune to the severity of the exam; if you looked closely, you could see faint shadows under his eyes. Tilia, staring at him curiously, heard his sharp voice.
- How long do you plan to hold on to this?
Startled by his uncharacteristically irritable tone, her eyes widened as their gazes met. But he quickly returned to his usual impassive expression, turning his head and focusing on Judy again.
- S-sorry.
Under his gaze, Judy hurriedly stood up and grabbed Tilia's hand.
- I whined too much. Sorry. I'm not the only one taking the exam...
- No, everything is fine. I even woke you up last night because of my nightmare, so don't worry.
Tilia patted her friend on the back as Judy fidgeted nervously, then turned to face forward. As harsh as it may sound, he was right. It's time to enter the judge's room.
Tilia looked at the dark entrance to the main building, where the black-clad examinees were being drawn in like shadows.
Taking a deep breath, she said:
- Let's go.
***
“This is...”
Tilia's face froze as she looked at the number engraved on the red ball she pulled out. Looking up, she saw Ilex and Judy looking at her with expressions even icier than hers.
In accordance with the principles of fairness and equality proclaimed by the founder of the academy, all aspects of the Royal Academy's final examinations were determined at random. This applied to the topics of the debates, the composition of the teams, positions “for” or “against” the topic, and even the order of speech. As a result, no one could predict the result until they entered the examination hall.
The first activity was to determine the order of performances. The drawing ceremony, using clear glass boxes filled with red balls, was held in a lecture hall where all examinees were present. The numbers engraved on the balls that the graduates pulled out were different: Team 1, Team 20, Team 8 and...
- Cecilia Clayton, Team 32.
Team 32.
When Cecilia Clayton pulled out command 32, her face contorted, Tilia had to lower her head slightly to hide the involuntary curl of her lips.
Team 32 was the last number in the second exam of the year, a position that every examinee wanted to avoid. It wasn't just the long hours of stress while waiting, the real problem was the waning attention of the examiners.
Unlike written tests, where correct and incorrect answers could be assessed objectively, oral examinations inevitably involved a degree of subjectivity. Consequently, the condition of the examiners was an important factor in the debate scores. Tired and weary evaluators were unlikely to remain completely impartial.
Three panels of judges, each consisting of five members, were tasked with judging between ten and eleven debates. Final debates often began well after lunchtime, by which point the examiners were running on sheer force of will.
To solve this problem, attempts were made to increase the number of evaluators for the second exams. However, even after numerous discussions about grading standards, having additional judges only resulted in more failures for some teams, which ultimately led to the decision being abandoned. The consensus was that fairness could only be maintained if the same evaluators scored all debates.
So when Cecilia drew team 32, Tilia couldn't help but admire the fairness of the draw.
Even someone who has been lucky all his life can fall into a worse lot.
When it was her turn, she mentally applauded the founder's brilliant insight.
- Tilia Ambrose.
She slowly stood up and walked over to the transparent box, sticking her hand inside.
Whatever happens, I'll accept it. In the end, nothing could be worse than Team 32.
But as soon as she saw the number on the balloon she pulled out with a calm heart, she immediately abandoned her admiration for the founder.
Brilliant insight is my leg. Justice is my ass. Relying on chance for the sake of justice is the laziest method imaginable.
- Tilia Ambrose.
When Tilia irritably put down the ball, the commentator called out her number.
- Team 32.
Now it was Cecilia Clayton's turn to twitch her lips. Unlike Tilia, who kept her head down, Cecilia didn't even bother to hide her smirk.