“The building in the center of the campus is the church dedicated to Saint Leman. Historical records state that the hero Leman once slew the evil dragon that nested in Paris. Cité University was originally built upon the church that enshrined him.”
Under the arrangement of the academic affairs office, Claire and Liz were guided on a tour of the campus by an upperclassman named Celine.
This short girl named Celine was an upperclassman, yet in age she seemed still a little younger than the two of them.
She was probably of humble origin.
In this aristocratic academy, those who ran errands for the school authorities were often students from poor families who lightened the burden of tuition through diligent work.
Yet Celine still possessed the pride of an upperclassman.
She knew every corner of the campus as if it were her own fief castle, while Claire and Liz seemed to have become invited guests.
The three of them moved through the campus, passing one covered bridge after another.
These aerial corridors that connected the various buildings tightly linked the campus together like bonds.
Some of the bridges hugged the ground while others hung high, allowing one to occasionally glimpse the figures of students hurrying past below while walking.
“This building is the library. Its collection covers a wide range. Books of every major are present, and many are unique manuscripts left behind by great literary figures.”
“These two small buildings are the dining halls. They provide menus of different styles for students from the Northern Continent and the Southern Continent respectively.”
“The buildings on both sides are the dormitories. Male and female students live separately. Later classmates will take you to your rooms. All four dormitories lead to the central reception hall, which is the place where students socialize. Tonight’s welcome party will be held there. Remember to attend.”
Celine looked back at Claire and Liz.
The two of them nodded slightly.
Cherry trees as thick as a bowl’s mouth were planted in every corner of the dormitory area.
It was currently the season of falling leaves.
The withered leaves that sunlight had turned bright gold were blown down by the autumn wind.
Claire gently raised her hand and pinched a fallen leaf between her fingers.
“The white building behind the dormitory area is the teaching building,” Celine said.
“Classes are being held inside right now. We can go in and feel the atmosphere.”
Celine gently pushed open the door.
A vast tiered classroom appeared before them.
The lectern was located at the lowest point, while the audience seats rose higher and higher toward the rear rows.
Celine led the two of them to sit in the empty seats of the last row.
“…Cain the firstborn collected the freshest fruits and the sweetest grains. Abel the second-born slaughtered the most tender livestock and the most delicious cattle. God looked with favor upon Abel and his offering, but did not look with favor upon Cain and his offering. Cain became greatly angry and killed his brother Abel in the field. God said, ‘You have killed your own brother. Now you are cursed from the ground. When you till the ground it will no longer yield its strength to you. You shall be a fugitive and a wanderer upon the earth.’”
The theology professor held the sacred text and recited devoutly.
“This is the story of the cursed Cain. His descendants are the vampires that now poison the earth. In the end they are blasphemous existences the same as the demonkin. Yet our northern compatriots have been blinded by that heretical wicked woman named Christine and actually live day and night with vampires. It is truly heartbreaking.”
The scripture of the Book of Nod was the sacred text of the Sole Most Holy Church.
On the side of the Saint Christine denomination it had been judged apocryphal on the grounds that it destroyed racial unity.
Claire had read this passage as a child, which had nearly caused her to jump from the tower of Cumberland Castle and commit suicide when she learned she had been turned into a vampire.
Claire rolled her eyes at the professor who was filled with righteous indignation on the lectern and turned her head to look at the seats beside her.
The surrounding students were each doing their own things.
The boys were slumped over their desks dozing, while the girls played with the little gadgets that were currently popular.
Even the excellent student Lady Liz was fiddling with the small ornaments on her skirt.
Not far from the two of them, Celine had sat near a small cluster of students.
Those students were like a group of proud foxes.
The leader of the foxes clustered in the center was a pink-haired young woman.
Those rose-red pupils revealed cunning.
Celine was whispering something to her.
They were using a very special language—not the language of Caroling.
Even Liz could not understand it.
Yet Claire could understand.
It was a dialect of the Heartland of the Southern Continent.
These students must all come from pro-southern families.
“What is the background of the newly arrived ones?” the pink-haired young woman asked.
“Sorry, I couldn’t get hold of their files,” Celine said in a low voice.
“But judging from their clothing and speech, they should not be of great-family origin.”
“They are Northern Continent people. If they have no background, how could they enroll at this time? This is not something an ordinary person of ordinary power can achieve.”
“Does Your Highness feel they might be useful to us?”
“Perhaps useful, perhaps harmful. Keep a close watch on them and sound them out sideways to discover what they want to do in this school.”
“Understood, Your Highness.” Celine nodded repeatedly.
The tall female student behind the pink-haired young woman leaned slightly forward and joined the conversation.
“Your Highness, shall we give them a show of force at the welcome party?”
“I’ll leave it to you, Margaret. But pay attention to the degree. I do not wish the princess to form a bad impression of my campus.”
The pink-haired young woman’s voice was cold.
From beginning to end she never so much as glanced toward Claire and the others.
Liz nudged Claire with her elbow and said in a low voice, “I bet the upperclassman is talking about us with that pink hair. Girls all over the world have this exact expression when they speak ill of people behind their backs.”
“Mm. That is a small clique. The pink hair is their core,” Claire responded softly.
“Can you understand what they’re muttering over there?”
“The mistress of this university wants to give us a show of force,” Claire said lightly.
***
When night quietly descended, the reception hall was gradually illuminated by brilliant lights.
Through those several floor-to-ceiling windows, a scene of flowing radiance entered the eyes.
Students of humble origin wearing the academy uniform stood in the corridors and took on the duty of greeting guests.
Most of them had no formal attire of any grade in their wardrobes and naturally had no connection with this kind of party.
Young men and women were all immersed in anticipation of the welcome party that was about to begin.
In the resting rooms of the reception hall, servants moved back and forth, carefully arranging the formal attire and jewels of the young masters and misses, and finally did not forget to lightly spray a touch of perfume.
Some young women still felt it insufficient and in their anxiety called the names of the maids, urging them to select new shoes from the dazzling array of shoe boxes for trying on.
Occasional words of reproach were mixed with an obsession for perfection.
To them this school was a preview of high society.
The design of the ball gowns and the value of the jewelry had invisibly become the measuring stick of family status.
Therefore the girls were always accompanied by loyal maids and suitcases fully loaded with clothing, ornaments and shoes, ready at any time to respond to the needs of various occasions.
Claire had also just changed into formal attire.
She had chosen a white silk blouse with lace edges, a khaki long skirt below, and high-heeled shoes of the same color.
Compared with those classmates who competed in splendor it was naturally not particularly luxurious, yet one could see that she had at least groomed herself.
Liz was standing under a streetlamp waiting for her.
She wore a knee-length plain gauze dress that revealed her slender and straight lower legs, making the already tall Liz appear especially graceful and upright.
“I never expected our Miss Liz to rather like this kind of occasion?”
Claire pressed her lips together and smiled.
“Since Director-General Sibyl allocated the funds, it would be a waste not to use them. Buying some nice clothes to play the young-miss persona isn’t bad either…”
Liz slightly pouted and turned her face away, avoiding Claire’s mischievous gaze.
“You’re the one who’s dressed so plainly. Don’t let the imperial princess find you shabby and not bother with you.”
“She won’t care about these things.”
Liz noticed that the corner of Claire’s mouth had lifted slightly.
“Miss Claire, Miss Liz!”
Just before the two of them were about to enter the reception hall, a familiar voice came from behind them.
It was that upperclassman Celine.
She was wearing the academy uniform like those greeting students.
“…I have a sentence that may sound somewhat inappropriate, but I hope you can listen to it.”
Celine actually held no malice toward these two newly arrived Northern Continent classmates.
She hoped they would not feel uncomfortable later.
“If that sentence were truly inappropriate, you would not have proposed it. Since you are willing to speak, there must be a reason of yours. I am willing to listen,” Claire responded softly, her tone carrying a trace of understanding.
“It is not easy to establish a firm footing in this school. The most unruly people of Caroling are gathered here,” Celine paused slightly.
“Especially the circles of those girls. To integrate into them one must pay a great many prices. In this place, teasing newcomers is a tradition. I suggest you first pay a visit to Lady Anne of Normandy before entering. Perhaps she can grant you some leniency.”
“Have they bullied you as well?” Liz asked calmly, as if she was not unfamiliar with this kind of situation.
Celine did not answer directly.
She only forced out a smile that contained a few traces of bitterness.
Clearly she had had unpleasant experiences.
“Thank you for the reminder,” Claire said softly.
Celine looked at these two Northern Continent girls and felt somewhat uncomfortable inside.
She seemed to want to say something, yet in the end she could not speak it.
Claire gently turned and slowly pushed open the heavy door.
In an instant the melodious music surged forward like a tide, carrying fragments of gold foil that danced under the brilliant lights and decorated the entire hall like a dream.
Musicians in pure-white formal attire skillfully leaped their fingers between the keyboards and bellows of the accordions, playing lively melodies.
Youthful men and women danced under the pull of this melody.
In the air the rich thickness of cream soup and the fragrance of perfume intertwined and wound together.
Claire and Liz walked close to the wall, keeping away from the crowd.
Yet Claire had already noticed that several male students had lightly and quietly slipped to the doorway, sealing the exit behind them.
A ding sounded as someone tossed a gold coin onto the tiled floor.
It was like a signal.
More than ten students jogged over and formed a circle, isolating Claire from the party.
Margaret of Alençon was the planner of this prank.
She dared to do this because she had Anne’s authorization, yet she also did not want to bring trouble upon herself.
Therefore she deliberately set the target as the plainly dressed Claire, for she looked like nothing more than Liz’s attendant, while Liz was the genuine aristocratic young lady.
If she angered her it would not be something that could be easily resolved, and it might even become a diplomatic incident.
Margaret wore a cold smile as she watched one girl after another in splendid attire walk into the circle formed by the crowd.
They lightly turned their bodies, their enormous skirts blooming open, the patterns on the skirts dazzlingly brilliant and so bright that one could not open one’s eyes.
They surrounded the black-haired Northern Continent girl in the center, laughing and dancing gracefully, sometimes approaching, sometimes distancing themselves, freely pulling at Claire’s clothing and even thrusting their hands into the collar of her silk blouse.
The boys stood to the side and watched.
This scene was like a stage play in which the fairies of the forest teased a poor traveler.
Although that student registration was enough for Claire and Liz to obtain superficial courtesy in Paris, just as sunlight always has dark corners it cannot reach, Cité University was precisely such a hidden place.
Even if the aristocratic students committed crimes against this Northern Continent girl, they would not receive true punishment.
Punishing these children would mean offending the Caroling political world ten years later.
Once they came of age and formed cliques and factions, all of their sins would be forgotten or pardoned.
Celine, who was swept into the wall of people, realized that the worst situation had appeared, yet as one of humble origin she was powerless.
She raised her head and looked.
Liz, who had been walking with Claire, was outside the wall of people with her hands pressed together in prayer.
Celine did not know that what Liz was actually praying for was that tonight there would not appear a second Miriel beaten half to death.
Suddenly Margaret, immersed in her complacency, heard the sound of her own heartbeat.
Only when one is deeply mired in fear does the heartbeat become so clear.
Margaret raised her head.
The girls one after another stopped.
Their hands still hung in midair, yet they no longer dared to touch Claire’s body, as if a group of foxes making a show of force had head-on collided with a leopard.
The girls gradually retreated.
No one ordered them to retreat, yet they retreated in unison and without being able to restrain themselves.
When the boys saw the Claire in the center of the circle they instantly understood why the girls were retreating.
They were attempting to flee—fleeing from Claire’s gaze.
Claire slowly advanced, a cold smile hanging at the corner of her mouth.
That look was possessed only by those who had seen blood.
Margaret had seen such a look before.
She had seen it at the grand exposition of the Southern Continent on Princess Phine who piloted the steel giant.
Her blue pupils had likewise been this gaze resembling that of a predator.
In a daze Claire had already walked before Margaret.
Margaret retreated in panic, as if this Northern Continent girl were a black panther draped in crow feathers that was licking its fangs and about to pounce.
Claire stretched out her hand and seized Margaret in front of her, not allowing her to escape.
Margaret was much taller than Claire, yet as a vampire Claire held an absolute advantage in strength.
Claire smiled as she forced Margaret against the wall.
Their cheeks pressed tightly together, and their chests also touched each other.
She could feel the violent rise and fall of Margaret’s chest.
“How should I address you?” Claire asked with a smile.
“Margaret… Margaret of Alençon, daughter of the Marquis of Alençon and the Countess of Babenberg.”
Margaret subconsciously reported her full name and the titles of her parents.
This was the etiquette among nobles for announcing identity, and also a form of display or demonstration.
“I didn’t ask for your mother’s surname.” Claire still smiled.
“Your welcome has left a deep impression on me. Let me return the gift.”
Before Margaret could react, Claire suddenly kissed her on the lips.
This kiss was exactly like the sharp fangs of a black panther biting toward a fox’s throat.
Margaret wanted to open her mouth and cry out, yet she was sealed by Claire’s lips.
Claire blew the air accumulated in her lungs into Margaret’s mouth while ambiguously stroking the tall young woman’s cheek.
In reality she was using her arm to block the line of sight of the onlookers while secretly pinching her high-bridged nose.
Because Claire had been turned in her childhood, Herta had conducted specialized special training on her heart and lung functions.
She held absolute confidence in her vital capacity.
She was treating Margaret like a balloon and blowing with the fierce force of wanting to burst the balloon.
Yet in the eyes of others, the kiss she gave Margaret was so passionate and unrestrained, like a pair of lovers embracing and kissing.
Margaret’s mind went blank.
Her limbs grew soft from the difficulty of breathing.
She slowly slid down from Claire’s embrace and sat on the ground.
She could not even speak and could only cover her chest and gasp violently.
“I thought the kissing courtesy was a Gallic folk custom. Perhaps the rumors are incorrect.”
Claire’s face still wore that cold smile.
Everyone was dumbfounded.
How was this the attendant of some young miss studying abroad?
Her bearing was clearly that of a fully armed knight!
At that moment a gold coin fell onto the tiled floor and shattered the silence.
The spirits of the boys and girls were once again stirred, for they knew the true mistress of this university had arrived.
“Margaret, how could you be so rude to our good classmates from the north?”
The speaker was precisely that pink-haired young woman.
She wore a long red dress, with a similarly brilliant red rose adorning her hair.
Those rose-colored pupils were deep and remote, as if containing the last moment of rosy clouds before the setting of the sun.
Margaret, who had been lying on the tiled floor recovering her breath, was so startled that she stood up.
“Your Highness, forgive me!”
She curtsied, somewhat trembling with fear.
Her long arms and legs looked a little pitiful.
The pink-haired young woman expressionlessly waved her hand and struck Margaret so hard that she spun in a circle and fell to the ground.
It was impossible to imagine that this pink-haired young woman could deliver such a powerful slap.
Margaret covered her cheek and walked out of the reception hall with her head lowered and stumbling steps.
She understood that at this moment she had already become a discarded piece that was to be cut away.
If she continued to entangle she would only suffer Anne’s retaliation.
“I am Anne of Normandy. Welcome to the two classmates from the distant north who have come among us.”
The surrounding students hurriedly applauded upon hearing this.
Anne extended her hand toward Claire amid the applause, hoping to shake hands and make peace.
“You still haven’t said your mother’s surname?” Claire did not extend her hand to return the grip.
“Miss Margaret’s full name specially mentioned it. Why don’t you say it?”
Anne knew that Claire’s sentence “your mother’s surname” appeared to be asking about the origin of her maternal clan, yet in reality it was cursing her.
Yet under these circumstances she could not return harsh words and could only awkwardly withdraw her hand.
She glared at Claire with those rose-red eyes, and Claire did not avoid her gaze either, glaring fiercely back.
A piercing piano wrong note tore through the high-spirited dance music like a sharp knife.
The people in the hall stopped dancing and frowned as they looked toward the second floor.
In Cité University, where everything was aligned with court standards, such a mistake should not have appeared.
After playing that long note the performer stood up, closed the piano lid, and turned