novelraw Chapter 120 : The Warmth That Wasn’t Mine
Chapter 120 : The Warmth That Wasn’t Mine
(Seris Revingale's POV)
The bells of the Asterion Academy rang faintly across the courtyard, their chime bright but hollow.
Students hurried through the corridors, their laughter echoing against marble walls that always seemed too polished, too cold.
To most, it was the sound of promise.
To me, it was noise.
I sat by the window of the west library wing, a book open in my lap and my thoughts miles away — far beyond the academy walls, far beyond the capital, back to the quiet village where the wind carried laughter and the land itself felt alive.
Back to Valemont.
Back to him.
It was ridiculous how clear the memory still was.
Rooga’s hands dusted with soil as he helped repair the garden fence.
The way he smiled when he thought no one was watching.
How he listened — really listened — when people spoke, as if their words mattered more than his own.
No one at this academy smiled like that.
No one at home did either.
The Revingale manor was colder than stone, filled with etiquette and expectation but not love.
We spoke through servants, dined in silence, and measured affection in achievements.
At Valemont, it had been different — chaotic, noisy, human.
And Rooga… he had been the center of that warmth.
I had told myself, I’m only grateful.
But that wasn’t true anymore.
“Elara Valemont has returned,” someone whispered across the hall that morning.
I didn’t even need to turn to know.
Her mana was unmistakable — sharp and steady like a blade.
When she walked through the entrance, the other students moved aside, half out of respect, half out of awe.
She looked different now — her posture more composed, her presence heavier.
The same girl who had once nearly taken Rooga’s life now looked like she carried that guilt as her armor.
She spotted me immediately.
Her expression softened into a polite smile, but I saw it — the flicker of something uncertain in her eyes.
“Seris,” she greeted.
“Elara.”
We stood in the middle of the hallway, surrounded by whispers we both ignored.
“I didn’t expect you to come back so soon,” I said, keeping my tone even.
“I needed to,” she replied simply. “There’s still much to learn.”
Her voice was calm, but I heard the weight beneath it — the same regret that still shadowed her every word.
Part of me wanted to hate her.
Part of me already did.
I knew she hadn’t meant to hurt him.
I knew it had been an accident.
But every time I remembered Rooga lying in that grove, pale and still, something inside me twisted.
She had seen him die once — and she had been the reason for it.
And yet, he had forgiven her.
That was what hurt the most.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from NovelBin. Please report it.
“Hows Rooga doing these days,” I said, trying to sound casual.
She nodded. “He’s stronger now. More than I expected.”
Her smile softened. “He’s grown into himself.”
I looked away before she could see my expression.
I didn’t want to hear her speak about him like that — not with that warmth.
She didn’t notice. Or maybe she did and chose not to mention it.
Elara had always been perceptive, but kind enough not to press wounds she could see.
“I’m glad,” I said finally, closing my book. “He deserves to grow. He deserves… peace.”
Elara smiled gently. “He already has it, I think. Valemont is good to him.”
“I know,” I murmured, my fingers tightening slightly around the cover of the book.
When the conversation ended, Elara left for her class.
I stayed by the window, staring out at the horizon.
The world outside was bright — the same sun that shone over Valemont — but it didn’t feel the same here.
No matter how high the Academy’s towers reached, the light never felt warm.
Maybe that was why I kept thinking of him.
Because Rooga’s warmth wasn’t something the world gave — it was something he carried with him, something he shared without even realizing it.
And once you’d felt it… everything else felt cold.
I pressed a hand to my chest and whispered softly,
“I’ll go back one day.”
Not to disturb his peace.
Not to take anything.
But just to stand in that warmth again — to remind myself that I was still human, that kindness like his could still exist in this world.
And maybe, just maybe, to make sure he was still smiling.
By mid-term, Valemont had become something of a legend in the academy corridors.
Merchants, soldiers, even minor nobles talked about the “singing lands,” about how the crops there glowed at dusk and the forests hummed with mana.
Every story grew a little brighter with each retelling—until even the students who had never set foot outside the capital spoke of Valemont as if it were paradise.
Then came the rumor that cracked it.
I was in the lecture garden when I first heard them.
A pair of girls in embroidered uniforms, the kind that announced old family bloodlines, were whispering behind a column.
“They say the Valemonts have two sons now,” one said.
“The older one’s a disappointment. Doesn’t train, barely uses magic.”
The other giggled. “Imagine being betrothed to that. A lazy farmer boy!”
I didn’t need to turn around to know they were looking at me.
The words slid through me like cold water at first—then something hotter followed, something sharp.
For a heartbeat, I wanted to draw my sword right there.
But then… I stopped.
If they knew what Rooga was really like—the way he smiled, the way the land seemed to breathe with him—they’d talk differently.
They’d come to see him.
They’d want him.
And I realized then that I didn’t want anyone else to.
The rage settled into something colder, quieter.
No one needed to know who he really was.
Let them think he was lazy, a farmer’s son with no ambition.
The more they dismissed him, the safer he’d be—away from their eyes, their hands, their world.
Mine alone in memory, untouched by their admiration.
I turned to them, keeping my expression light. “You’re not wrong,” I said softly.
Both girls blinked, surprised.
I laughed—a small, careful sound. “He’s kind, but hardly the type for court life. You know how country boys are. Always distracted by clouds and trees.”
They relaxed, grinning.
“Oh, you poor thing,” one said, touching my arm. “You’ll have your hands full taming him.”
“Perhaps,” I answered, still smiling.
And just like that, the lie took flight.
By supper, more students were repeating it:
Elara Valemont’s brother—the lazy one.
The boy who spends his days carving wood instead of training.
Unfit for the name Valemont.
Each retelling made the truth smaller, until only I kept the real one close—hidden, safe.
Later that night, I met Elara in the study hall.
She was helping another student with sword forms, her focus absolute as always.
When she noticed me, she smiled. “Seris. You heard the nonsense they’re saying about my brother?”
I tilted my head, keeping my tone curious. “Only bits of it. I thought you’d ignore such gossip.”
Her brow furrowed slightly. “I will. Still, it’s cruel. Rooga’s a good person.”
I placed a hand over my mouth to hide a small, practiced sigh. “People will say what they want. Best not to feed it.”
She nodded, and the moment passed.
The truth slid quietly between us, unseen.
When Elara left, I lingered by the window, watching the courtyard below where the students laughed.
Their voices mixed with the sound of the fountain—carefree, unaware.
I pressed a hand against the glass.
Let them laugh.
Let them call him lazy, useless, unworthy.
The more they looked down on him, the less they’d ever look toward him.
And if that meant I had to play along, then so be it.