'So… what should I do?'
The question flickered through Alice's mind just as something pressed faintly against her chest.
Ah.
Her fingers brushed familiar lacquered wood.
The fan.
The one Julies had repaired for her—its ribs reinforced, its surface polished smooth again after being cracked during training. Without thinking too deeply, she slipped it free from her bosom.
'…This will do.'
—Zt!
The sharp, crisp sound of the fan snapping open cut cleanly through the gentle music of the hall.
Several nearby conversations faltered.
"…Gasp!"
Amelia, who happened to meet Alice's gaze at that exact moment, sucked in a breath. For just an instant, a ripple of killing intent leaked from Alice's eyes—thin, cold, and honed by battle rather than etiquette.
For a mage like Amelia, standing this close, it was overwhelming. Her shoulders stiffened before she even realized why.
"…Alice, it's fine," Amelia said quickly, lowering her voice. "Don't say anything more."
The words were soft.
