The Butterfly That Swallowed the Fog
Tilia Ambrose had always assumed Elex Davenport lived by his own whims. Yet the man had skipped an exam?
She stared at the score sheet, her name still perched at the very top of the first-year general-education list.
Then, as if on cue, the mocking laughter of her friends drifted over.
“Elex, what the hell were you doing that you skipped the exam?”
“Sleeping.”
“What? That bastard really is hopeless!”
The sting of that day’s overheard words carved itself into Tilia’s soul. She would never forget it.
She had felt… ashamed. For a single moment, she had actually believed she had beaten him.
She had been so happy and proud when she saw her name at the top of the sheet.
This man, whose nap was probably worth less to him than a speck of dust, had always been one step ahead.
And now she had never once defeated him properly.
Since that day, the fragile hope buried deep inside her had been snapped in half. In its place she had planted only resentment and envy.
The bitterness spread like moss whenever she looked at the man who casually stole everything she had ever desperately wanted.
Just like now.
“Ah, we’re here.”
Tilia, whose steps had slowed from memories of the past she wanted to forget, lifted her head at the voice behind her.
She had clearly been lost in thought for a long time. The brightly lit lobby of the girls’ dormitory now stood right in front of her.
It was finally over.
With a light heart, she turned toward the two-person suite building on her left and began walking.
Her pace quickened with every step. She was eager to put as much distance between herself and them as possible and reach the comfort of her own room.
“…Elex.”
And there it was—the fork in the road just before the girls’ dormitory building vanished from sight.
“Want to come in?”
Cecilia Clayton asked quietly, her eyes lowered just enough.
Her long, wet lashes trembled faintly with tension and excitement.
“It’s cold outside, so maybe we could at least have a carriage or—”
“Cecilia Clayton.”
“Eh?”
Cecilia’s clear, round eyes widened like a startled rabbit as she lifted her head at the voice that had called her name.
But instead of the warmth she had expected, she found a face so coldly frost-covered that it made even ice seem warm.
“Have I been waiting for you?”
No. If it had been cold, it would have been better.
It would have proved that he had never once felt warmth toward her.
“Tell me—have I been waiting for you?”
Elex Davenport’s expression held no trace of feeling for her. Only a deep weariness and annoyance with the situation.
“I have never waited for you.”
Elex spoke in a flat, emotionless tone, stating the truth without a flicker of regret.
“And from now on, for all eternity, I will never set foot here again because of you.”
The examination hall filled with the rapid scratching of pens.
“You have ninety minutes. Only the designated black ink pens may be used. Any detected cheating will result in a full re-examination. Because this is the Graduation Exam, I know you’re all under pressure, but I wish you the best of luck. Begin!”
The proctor’s words ended, and the room erupted with the sound of papers turning.
Tilia, seated by the window, scanned the question paper with a tense face, took a deep breath, and lifted her pen.
Immediately, the frantic sound of writing began from her seat.
Across the aisle, at the very top of the curved seating in the lecture hall, Elex rested his chin on his hand and turned his head slightly.
His opaque grey-blue eyes moved without hesitation and locked onto one place.
Tilia Ambrose.
In Elex’s expression, a faint tension lingered.
His gaze slid over her furrowed brow as she concentrated on the problem, then to her bright green eyes, and finally to the red lips nibbling at the tip of her pen.
Almost as if he had suddenly understood something, Tilia’s hand paused for a moment before it began moving again at a frantic pace.
The tension in Elex’s face eased.
With a faint curve at the corner of his mouth, he twirled the pen once, then began writing the answers.
Soon his paper, like Tilia’s, was filled with dense black handwriting.
Tilia murmured the theory under her breath while rapidly flipping through her notes.
The first stage of the Academy’s Graduation Exam consisted of eight required general-education subjects and four electives—twelve exams in total.
To sit for the second stage the following semester, one had to pass every subject with at least a passing grade. A single failure required repeating the entire year.
“What am I going to do… I’m doomed.”
From the first exam onward, sobs had echoed from the lecture hall for exactly this reason.
Even if one performed perfectly in the others, one mistake ruined everything.
Judy must have done well.
Tilia worried about her roommate in the other class, tapping the edge of her notebook with the pen.
But she soon gave up on that worry. First, she had to focus on the words in front of her.
The next exam was Rhetoric—the subject she both loved and found the most difficult.
“Damn those feudal lords.”
Even Tilia, who aimed for high marks in most subjects, had decided her goal for Rhetoric was simply to pass.
Of course, she knew that more than eight out of ten repeat students chose to postpone graduation because of this subject. That alone meant passing was already top-tier.
“If you just want a high rank, just say it honestly instead of twisting everything like this.”
She twisted the interpretation of the classic literature she had painstakingly memorized last semester, a relief that she had not fallen into utter despair.
While Tilia cursed and studied his rhetoric with all her might, a small voice drifted from behind her in the opposite row.
“Cecilia, did you drink that? That… potion, right?”
“I brought my own earplugs.”
Tilia scolded herself for her carelessness and turned the pages even faster.
“Yeah, I drank it. I couldn’t skip the exam, could I?”
But once the voice had started, it refused to let go of its vigilance.
Potion—then it had to be the Holy Water that was currently the rage in noble society.
“Who’s not drinking it these days? I’m at a disadvantage for not taking it.”
The lecture hall was packed with students preparing for the next exam.
Yet Tilia’s ears caught only Cecilia’s hushed whispers.
“Well, yeah. Everyone else is dashing around on horseback while I have to run barefoot.”
“But Cecilia, where did you get the fake stuff from? They’re saying fakes are everywhere lately…”
“Don’t get distracted. Study.”
Tilia blocked the stray thought and summarized aloud.
Here the blue moon acts as the objective correlative, deepening the speaker’s pessimistic mood…
“I just drank it because my parents brought it over. I don’t know where they got it. They never talk about such things.”
“Ah… so that’s it.”
“This speech has proper ethos and pathos but lacks logos, and the evidence for that is…”
“…Lia. Tilia!”
Tilia, who had finally regained her focus, looked up at the voice calling her name and turned toward the sound.
On exam day, she saw Cecilia’s face as calm as ever and, behind her, a cluster of followers who looked oddly flustered.
Why were they calling her?
“What’s going on?”
Tilia gave a smile mixed with caution as she looked at Cecilia.
“Is there something you want to ask?”
“No, just wondering if you’re doing well in your studies. Well, what was I asking? Of course you’re doing great, right?”
Cecilia smiled brightly and casually glanced at Tilia’s notebook.
“Wow. You really wrote this down. I could sell this.”
“No thanks. Who would buy it?”
“Why not? I’d buy one.”
Cecilia peered at Tilia’s notebook with obvious envy, then smiled and pulled something from her pocket.
“Actually, I just asked if you were doing well in your studies. The real reason I came is to give you this.”
“What is it?”
“It’s a potion that boosts concentration. You don’t look like you’ve taken it, so I’m glad. Drink it. You’ll definitely feel different from Elex, won’t you?”
Tilia stared at the small transparent bottle resting on her palm, then looked back up at Cecilia.
“So… why are you giving this to me?”
Why give this to me? There’s no reason for you to.
Even though the question was etched into Tilia’s eyes, Cecilia looked at her with a face that had not lost its kindness.