Academy afternoon classes had ended, and early evening was settling in.
Sophia Veronica Aquilova, a second-year cadet in the Knight Faculty, walked down an empty corridor.
Avoiding people's eyes by sticking to the most remote paths had become an ingrained habit over the past decade or so.
Moving like a shadow like this allowed her to dodge most misfortunes.
But not always.
"Where you off to, traitor's spawn."
Traitor. Sophia knew right away who those two words were aimed at.
And rightly so—she was called the traitor's daughter far more often than by her name, Sophia.
Just like now.
"…."
When Sophia looked up, she saw several familiar faces. The ones who tormented her almost every day.
The ringleader, Isabella, stepped forward and opened her mouth.
"Kept your eyes on the ground, so I had to call out. Picking up stray coins or something? How's business today? Shouldn't you treat us?"
The students around her burst into laughter at Isabella's words.
"Even Her Highness the princess is too lenient. Who'd have thought she'd let a rebel's bloodline into the academy."
Isabella approached Sophia. Sophia flinched back reflexively, but Isabella's hand was faster.
Grabbing and yanking at Sophia's uniform like she was tearing it off, Isabella sneered at the nameplate on her chest.
"Still wearing the Aquilova name, huh? Gotta give you points for shamelessness. A traitor's family, strutting around the academy like you're proud?"
"…I'm sorry."
"No need to apologize. It's all thanks to Her Highness's mercy. That even a traitor's daughter like you gets equal chance to learn—Her Highness is truly magnanimous."
It was always like this.
Insults and mockery.
Sometimes violence.
Sophia was used to it by now. She could endure it.
The label of traitor's daughter.
Her family being insulted.
All of it.
"…."
Everything Isabella said was true. Sophia's family, Aquilova, had plotted rebellion against the kingdom and been purged.
If Sophia hadn't been a helpless infant who couldn't even walk yet, she'd have shared their fate.
Her admission to Erebos Royal Academy was entirely due to the princess's mercy.
So she had no choice but to apologize.
"I'm sorry. I'll be on my way."
Usually, if Sophia apologized subserviently first, Isabella's gang lost interest and left her alone.
But today seemed different.
"Huh? What's this now?"
Isabella had spotted something shiny peeking through the torn uniform.
"A pendant? Looks expensive. A traitor's daughter wearing something like this?"
"Ah, th-that's…."
Before Sophia could protest, Isabella snatched the pendant.
"What is this? An eagle? Don't tell me it's the Aquilova family crest."
"Give it… back."
It was the only remnant of her parents left to Sophia.
The only one.
But hearing Sophia's pathetic plea only piqued Isabella's interest, curling her lips into a smirk.
"So this is that fallen eagle crest?"
With those words, Isabella dropped the pendant to the ground.
"Look at it now. An eagle on the dirt might as well be a chicken."
Roars of laughter erupted around them.
As Sophia bent down wordlessly to pick it up—
——Krunch.
Isabella's heel crushed the pendant mercilessly. Sophia blinked at the silver fragments embedded in the mud.
"…Ah."
It was as if all sounds in the world vanished.
Isabella and her gang's jeers, the wind echoing in her ears—everything faded into a dull distance.
Her vision held only the silver shards buried in the mud.
What happened after that… even Sophia couldn't say for sure.
Her body moved on its own.
"Kyaaak!"
Isabella shrieked as her hair was grabbed.
"G-Get this crazy bitch off me! Now!"
"Uh, uh…."
While the gang panicked, Sophia slammed Isabella into the mud. Losing balance, Sophia tumbled down too.
But her hands didn't stop.
"Kyaaak! You psycho! Let go! You hear me?!"
Sophia didn't let go.
She didn't even know why herself.
It wasn't from all the accumulated resentment, she was sure.
She just… didn't want to let go.
They rolled around for what felt like ages. Who was grabbing whose hair, who was hitting where, who was taking blows—none of it registered. Only mud, sweat, and the metallic taste lingering in her mouth.
"Guhk!"
A shoe slammed into her stomach amid the chaos. Sophia curled up, vomiting bile. From then on, it was one-sided violence.
"You filthy bitch! How dare you!"
"Die! Just die!"
If a faculty member hadn't noticed the commotion and rushed over, Sophia might have been beaten to death right there.
"…Traitor scum!"
Traitor.
Today, that word stabbed deeper into her chest.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
The disciplinary committee was in an uproar.
Isabella, the daughter of a prominent count's house, tearfully claimed she was the sole victim. Her gang backed her up unanimously.
She even had a lawyer from her family by her side.
Meanwhile, no one spoke to Sophia, standing alone in her mud-caked uniform. She wasn't even given a chance to defend herself.
"Ahem. This committee has concluded its discussion on the incident."
The elderly professor chairing the committee smiled warmly at Isabella.
"Considering Isabella's family, their honor, and her usual reputation and conduct, we will resolve this with a light reprimand. We expect more dignified behavior in the future."
Then his gaze turned to Sophia, hardening coldly.
"Sophia Veronica Aquilova."
He put special emphasis on "Aquilova."
"Given your status and circumstances, causing such a conflict within Erebos Royal Academy is no small matter. The committee hereby sentences you to one week of campus beautification service."
The professor adjusted his glasses as he finished. Sophia nodded meekly.
She didn't protest the unfair ruling.
It was the natural course.
If anything, avoiding expulsion or suspension was lenient.
"We hope this serves as a good opportunity for you to cleanse your violent tendencies and cultivate a spirit of service to the academy—and the kingdom. Understood?"
"…Yes."
In Erebos Royal Academy, Sophia had no allies.
Even the professor chairing the committee had frowned at the mention of Aquilova.
In the end, the only label stuck to her was one she'd carry to the grave.
Fight, and lose.
Plead, and be ignored.
No place for her.
"…Aquilova's last eagle."
Sophia murmured.
The last words her neighboring house's guardian had left her before dying.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
The next day, Sophia quietly carried out her punishment.
Her task was cleaning the western garden on the academy outskirts, overgrown with weeds.
Snick.
Sophia pulled weeds blankly. Mechanical motions. She didn't want to think about anything.
But thoughts chained endlessly. The crushed pendant. Isabella's sneer. The professor's contemptuous gaze.
Sophia's life was set.
Atoning forever as the traitor's daughter.
Over a year of miserable academy life, and things had only worsened.
"…If I'm just going to live pathetically like this…."
Maybe dying would be better.
As that horrific thought crossed her mind—
"Didn't know there was a chapel here. Gotta come more often."
"You're just eyeing the hot guy again, right? Yeah, that priest does match your type. Dream on, though—priests can't marry."
"When did I say that!"
Sophia watched two female students pass through the garden.
She tilted her head. As far as she remembered, there was nothing there.
Just a small hill behind and an abandoned chapel….
"…Chapel?"
They'd definitely said "chapel."
As if drawn, Sophia followed the path and found the weathered chapel at the end.
"…Wasn't this place abandoned?"
Unlike her memory, the chapel was well-maintained. A bit worn, but clearly someone was there regularly.
The door stood wide open, so she cautiously entered.
No one around—prayers must have ended—but the confessional door was ajar.
"…."
Confession. Confessing sins to heaven for absolution.
Without thinking, Sophia grasped the confessional handle.
Even heaven would do—she wanted answers to her doubts.
"Father."
Seated, she spoke to the figure beyond the partition.
"I'm a traitor."
The deep turmoil she'd never shared with anyone.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
'Fuck.'
I cursed inwardly.
I'd thought running the academy confessional was easy money.
Just handle simple student issues.
At least until now.
But now heavy stuff like traitors and executions came flying out.
'Send her away…?'
Her voice sounded off—too precarious.
Worse than that burnout girl last time.
Better hear her out first.
"Uh… sister? Could you… tell me more?"
My words must've opened the floodgates.
For the next ten minutes or so, stories poured out from beyond: a family fallen for treason, endless scorn, yesterday's brawl.
"In the end… I lost. The last trace of my parents shattered, and all that's left is the traitor's daughter label."
Only an empty voice echoed from beyond.
"For someone like me, is there any reason to keep living?"
I stayed silent a moment.
I'd grasped the situation.
If the first chapel visitor was a burnout self-hater, this was worse.
This was her environment's fault.
'Guilt by association. The kind of bullshit you'd see in some medieval dump.'
She'd committed no crime.
Just born into a traitor's lineage.
She even believed herself guilty. She'd fought back but lost, got unfair punishment too. Not falling into total defeatism was the real miracle.
"Hmm…."
This wasn't solvable with theological comfort.
I blurted the first thought that came.
"You're not a traitor, sister."
"…Pardon?"
Clear surprise from beyond.
I continued.
"What could an infant not even knowing the word 'rebel' do? You're not a traitor—you're just the sole survivor of that tragedy."
"…."
"You fought your tormentors? That's not ugly. Defending something is commendable. Next time, win. That's it."
Confession words aren't heard by anyone but the parties.
No risk of reports.
It's to God, nominally—how could man punish?
Planning to bail in a year anyway; reputation be damned.
"Finally, you asked if there's meaning in living."
A sharp intake of breath beyond.
"You find that meaning yourself. Not by asking me."
"…."
"So have a bit more confidence in yourself."
Felt a tad light, so I added:
"You're no sinner, sister."
Silence stretched.
Did she find my words weird?
Awhile later.
Screeech.
Wooden chair scraping the floor.
Then receding footsteps.
She left without a word.
"Hm…."
Left alone, I shrugged.
"Eh, it'll work out somehow."