Chapter 241: Chapter 241: MATHEMATICS & THE NEW STUDENTS

​The crystal lamps in the dining hall of Iron Hearth Castle cast a soft glow, reflecting off the surface of the teak table that had been polished to a brilliant shine. The aroma of rendang and stir-fried vegetables wafted from the kitchen, competing with the calming scent of the chamomile tea beside Aurelia.

​The Duchess of Northreach sat quietly at the head of the table, her hands wrapped warmly around a steaming porcelain cup. Beside her, Raveena was intensely focused on slicing her rendang into precisely measured pieces. Rhea sat opposite them, cradling baby Ana, who was beginning to doze off; the infant’s tiny fingers were curled tight against her silk blanket. Meanwhile, Rumina remained true to herself—a ledger lay open beside her plate, her fingers tapping the table in a constant rhythm, as if she were calculating the castle’s heartbeat in numerical form.

​The comfortable silence was abruptly broken when the door swung open with a soft thud. Raphael entered with steps that were a bit too hurried.

​"Hmm, and where have you been?" Aurelia set down her cup. Her voice was gentle, yet it was enough to pin Raphael to the spot. "The sky is almost entirely dark."

​Raphael opened his mouth to defend himself, but a voice struck first from the side.

​"He was out on a date with his girlfriend, Mother. Oh, didn’t you know?"

​Raveena tossed the sentence out without once looking up from her rendang.

​Raphael flinched, his face turning an instant shade of crimson. "She’s not my girlfriend! She’s just a classmate, Sister!"

​"Oh, a classmate?" Raveena finally looked up, flashing a lethal, mischievous grin. "A classmate that you walk home with alone, and even tour greenhouses with while gazing at plants together? Tsk, how romantic."

​"That—that was part of an observation task! Sergeant Garon ordered it!" Raphael defended himself, his voice rising an octave.

​"Observation at the fields? Hah, I thought you took a military specialty, not a course on how to plant radishes."

​Raphael narrowed his eyes, his jaw tightening. He pulled out a chair harshly—screech!—and launched a counter-strike before his mother could intervene. "Speaking of being escorted... what about you, Sister? I heard from Caelus that you’ve been asking for a ride to school every single morning."

​Clink! Raveena’s spoon slipped and rattled against her plate. Her smile vanished, replaced by a pale face that quickly turned a deep, burning red. "W-what?! Caelus told you that?!"

​"Oh, so now you’re the one stuttering?" Raphael smirked triumphantly.

​"I never asked! He offered!"

​"An offer you always accept with great pleasure, don’t you?"

​"That’s because—it’s because he’s the teacher, Raphael! We’re going in the same direction!"

​"Of course. The same direction. Just the two of you. Every morning."

​Raveena’s mouth hung open like a fish gasping for oxygen. Her cheeks were now the color of a ripe tomato.

​Rumina, who had been silently calculating until then, finally looked up from her notes. "If you both marry in the same year, the banquet budget can be merged. Cost efficiency could reach fifteen percent. It’s more economical." 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

​The dining table went deathly silent.

​Raphael and Raveena turned in unison, expressions of pure horror plastered on their faces. "RUMINA!"

​"What? I’m simply calculating financial probabilities." Rumina returned to her book, though the corner of her lips twitched upward ever so slightly—a small victory for the Treasurer.

​Rhea, without looking away from the sleeping Ana, murmured coldly, "The two of you are truly pathetic."

​One sentence. Short, sharp, and lethal.

​Raphael and Raveena shared a brief glance, then both looked down in shame, focusing intently on their plates. Aurelia could only let out a long sigh—the sigh of a mother who had seen more than enough of her children squabbling like chicks over corn.

​Silence returned to the room, but this time, a sense of warmth crept in between the clinking of spoons.

​The next morning at Seruni School began with a thin mist enveloping the courtyard. The air was biting; frost clung to the tips of the Seruni flower petals, and the students’ breath puffed out in white clouds whenever they spoke.

​Creeak... scuff...

​The sound of carriage wheels sliding over the asphalt broke the morning bustle. The carriage was unique; its surface was coated in a thin layer of mana crystals that shimmered palely in the embrace of the dawn light. Two figures stepped down—a pair of teenagers with silver-ash hair, snow-pale skin, and identical icy blue eyes. Their cloaks, light gray with silver embroidery on the collars, bore the grand crest of Frostmere.

​Lyra Frost stepped forward first. Her chin was held high, her sharp eyes scanning the courtyard like a predator mapping out its territory. Behind her, Lyan Frost walked with more measured steps, stiff yet calm. His eyes observed the school building in an intensely analytical manner.

​Elara was already waiting at the gate, her wheelchair parked neatly under the shade of a Snow Seruni tree.

​"Welcome to Seruni School," Elara’s voice sounded warm amidst the cold. "You must be from Frostmere."

​Lyra stopped before Elara, offering a formal, polite bow that still maintained a certain distance. "Countess Mira sent us. She said that here, we could study magic through... unusual methods."

​"You will be joining the Advanced Studies class, specializing in Applied Magic. Your teacher will be Raveena Sudrath."

​Lyan, who had been as still as a statue, finally spoke. His voice was flat and low. "Raveena Sudrath... that genius?" His gaze shifted to the school building, as if looking for the mana traces left behind by the teacher.

​"You will meet her shortly," Elara smiled enigmatically. "Please, go inside. Class is about to begin."

​As they passed, whispers spread like wildfire among the students. Junior Varn narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms. "Frostmere... that means new competition."

​Elodie, standing nearby, watched Lyan with a furrowed brow. There was something about the way he walked that made her feel Lyan wasn’t the type for small talk, but would be very dangerous if provoked.

​Raphael, who had just arrived, locked eyes with Lyan for a split second. No greeting. Just two pairs of eyes sizing each other up, gauging strength, before Raphael looked away as the school bell rang.

​The Basic Logic class opened with a tense atmosphere. Elara sat at the front, her wheelchair positioned beside a clean blackboard.

​The lesson began with rapid-fire arithmetic problems. One by one, the students tried their luck. Junior Varn answered correctly, but he took a long time to ensure his scribbles weren’t wrong.

​Lyra Frost answered every question with mechanical speed, her voice as flat as a steam engine. Lyan? He didn’t speak. He simply took notes with incredibly efficient movements.

​Raphael felt he had the upper hand. He answered every problem swiftly, without even needing to scratch out notes on paper. He leaned back in his chair, one hand behind his head.

​"Hmm, too easy, Teacher. Isn’t there anything more challenging?"

​The room went instantly silent. Several students looked at him in disbelief. Lyra Frost arched an eyebrow, looking at Raphael with a dismissive gaze.

​"Oh? You want something more difficult?" Elara picked up a piece of white chalk. "Try solving this."

​Scritch-scratch-scritch!

​The chalk danced across the board, writing out a complex trade problem. Three types of commodities—rice, wheat, corn. Three variables with three interlocking linear equations. The numbers weren’t whole; the fractions were a mess.

​Raphael’s smirk vanished. He sat up straight, grabbed his paper, and began scribbling furiously. Sweat began to bead on his forehead. He crossed out one line, tried again, then stopped. He tried another method, but the numbers refused to align.

​One minute... two minutes... three minutes...

​A suffocating silence filled the class. Suddenly, the sound of a pen scratching against paper broke through.

​It wasn’t from Raphael.

​Lyan Frost was writing in his book. His movements were calm, unhurried, yet extremely calculated. His eyes moved nimbly between the blackboard and his paper, as if he were dissecting a fascinating machine.

​Lyra glanced at Raphael, then at her brother. "My brother doesn’t need to lean back in his chair just to find the answer to something this simple."

​Raphael’s jaw tightened. But before he could retort, Elara spoke. "Lyan? Are you finished?"

​Lyan looked up blankly. "Almost."

​"Show us."

​Lyan stood without a sound. He walked to the front, took the chalk from Elara’s hand, and began to write. He dissected the equations step by step with terrifying precision. There was no hesitation, no errors. Every number was placed exactly where it belonged. When he set the chalk down, the answer was correct to the final decimal point.

​"Hmph. That’s my brother," Lyra smirked with satisfaction.

​"Excellent, Lyan," Elara praised. "Can you explain the logic to your classmates?"

​Lyan turned toward the class, his face as flat as a wooden board. "No."

​"No?" Elara raised an eyebrow.

​"I am not good at explaining with words," he replied shortly. "I am only good at calculating." He returned to his seat and immediately began taking notes as if he hadn’t just done something extraordinary.

​Junior Varn snorted in annoyance. "He’s even more irritating than Raphael," he muttered under his breath.

​Elara pushed her wheelchair toward Raphael, who was still staring blankly at the board. "Do you know why you’re stuck, Raphael?"

​Raphael looked down, his voice low. "Because I was too arrogant."

​"Not just that," Elara touched her brother’s shoulder. "You stopped thinking the moment you saw the problem was difficult. You gave up in your head even before your chalk could reach the final point."

​Raphael looked up, meeting Elara’s eyes.

​"Lyan isn’t necessarily smarter than you. He simply doesn’t let doubt stop his thought process." Elara pointed toward Lyan’s answer. "That is the difference."

​Raphael stared at Lyan’s neat, organized answer, then at his own paper filled with frustrated scribbles. He took a long breath, wiped the sweat from his temples, and picked up his chalk again.

​"In that case... I’ll solve it my own way."

​Elara gave a small smile, filled with pride. "Good. We’re all waiting."

​The class began to pulse again. It was no longer an arena for showing off strength, but a true space for learning. Raphael learned that there was always a sky above the sky; Lyan realized his intellect had a stage; and Elodie—who was quietly writing something in the corner of her paper—realized one thing: the Raphael she admired wasn’t because he always won, but because he knew how to get back up after falling.