Valentina was in the middle of taking notes when a small piece of parchment, carried by Luvt Essence, fell in front of her. She was just about to unfold the piece of parchment when Professor Horne's shadow appeared in front of her and took the piece of parchment from her hand. "Looks like you haven't been devoting your creativity exclusively to the study of Essence," Professor Horne said mockingly as he read the piece of parchment. He cleared his throat theatrically, "Valentina, you seem to have a secret admirer."

Valentina could feel the blood rushing to her face. Excited whispering broke out around her. She saw Innogen give her a sympathetic look and Faustus grin maliciously. Professor Horne began to read with feigned seriousness and great pathos:

"Her hair, soft as the quiet night,

Falls gently, with a chestnut light.

Eyes like embers, warm and deep,

Hold thoughts too rich for words to keep."

Valentina wished she could sink into the floor. She could feel the eyes of the whole room on her, a mixture of curiosity, amusement and - at least in some cases - envy on the faces of the spectators.

"Her dress, though humble, neat and worn,

Is like a rose without a thorn."

Faustus Boarfend snorted in disbelief. "Humble? More like hand-me-down frome two sisters ago. Real 'rose,' that."

"She walks with care, and though she's small,

Her steps hold grace that moves us all."

"Moves us all? That probably means moves us out of the way when she falls over those clunky boots she always wears."

Professor Horne continued, his voice now full of irony and shaking with suppressed laughter:

"She may not wear the finest gown,

But in my heart, she wears a crown.

A quiet fire, steady, bright,

Her strength glows softly, out of sight."

After Professor Horne had finished reading, there was absolute silence in the room for a few seconds. Then a storm of reactions broke out.

Faustus Boarfend leaned back in his chair, chuckling, and told the clique around him loud enough for everyone to hear: "Only fire I feel is the one in my loins."

"How sweet!" exclaimed a student in the front row. Her voice dripped with a mixture of feigned joy and envy.

Laughter broke out and Valentina felt her cheeks burn hotter and hotter. She stared at her worn shoes under the table, unable to look anyone in the eye.

Professor Horne raised his hands reassuringly. "Enough now, enough now. Let's not forget that poetry is a noble art form, even if its execution... um... may sometimes leave something to be desired."

He folded the piece of parchment up again and placed it on the front of his desk. "Valentina, it's up to you whether you want to keep this lyrical masterpiece. And now you are all dismissed."

With these words, Professor Horne left the room with a slight smile on his lips. The students rose loudly from their seats, whispering and laughing excitedly.

Valentina sat frozen in her seat like a pillar of salt, unable to move. When she felt a hand on her shoulder, she looked up. Innogen was standing there with her, giving her a pitying look.

"Come on, Val," she said sympathetically. "Let's get out of here."

Grateful for their support, Valentina stood up, her knees trembling slightly. She tidied up her notes and, after a moment's hesitation, hastily reached for the piece of parchment with the poem on it.

As they left the lecture hall, they heard Faustus' piercing voice outside as he shouted: "Her dress, though humble, neat and worn, is like a rose without a thorn! Haha, more like a hoe so full of woe!" Laughter followed them as they made their way down the corridor. Valentina bit her lip and tried to hold back the tears that welled up in her eyes.

"You'll just have to ignore him, as hard as it is for you," Innogen murmured to her. "He's just jealous because no one would ever think of writing him a poem."

Innogen led Valentina to a quiet corner of the castle courtyard, away from prying and mocking eyes. The smell of wet leaves lingered in the air and the bell of the Burning Tower chimed the hour.

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"Do you want to talk about it?" Innogen asked gently as they sat down on a stone bench.

Valentina shook her head at first, which then turned into a hesitant nod. "It's just... it's so incredibly embarrassing! And Professor Horne, of all people, had to read it out in front of everyone."

Innogen gave her a sympathetic smile. "I know. But you know what? I think it was actually a pretty sweet poem. Someone went to the trouble of writing those lines just for you."

"But it's so... so..." Valentina was at a loss for words.

"Awkward?" suggested Innogen. "Yes, that's what it is. But honest, too. And hey, not many people ever get a poem written at all, no matter how awkward."

Valentina sighed and finally relaxed a little, now that she had escaped the intrusive looks. "You're kind of right. It's just... I wish it hadn't been read out in front of everyone in the lecture, of all places.

"I can well understand that." Innogen put an arm around Valentina's shoulder and squeezed her with affection and compassion. "But you know what? In a few days, no one will remember this. In a few days they'll be talking about the next rumor and the next scandal, you know how people are."

Valentina nodded hesitantly. "I hope you're right."

"Of course I'm right," Innogen winked at her. "Now tell me - do you have any idea who might have written it?"

Valentina blushed again and rolled her eyes. "I... I shouldn't speculate."

Just at that moment, they saw Crispin hurrying across the castle courtyard with an armful of books. When he saw Valentina, he nearly fell over his own feet and almost dropped the whole pile of books. His face turned crimson and he mumbled a hasty apology before hurrying off again.

Innogen looked at Valentina with a raised eyebrow. "Well, I have a hunch..."

Valentina looked after Crispin with an annoyed expression. The shy, friendly Crispin. He was a lovely boy. But by Martyr and all the saints, why had he put her in this situation?

"Come on," Innogen finally said and stood up. "Let's go to dinner, I promise you, everything will look half as bad tomorrow."

"You go ahead, I'll follow," Valentina replied. She longed for a little solitude. The curious looks and whispering of the other students was just too much for her at the moment. Valentina gave Innogen an apologetic look and made her way to the university gardens.

Valentina walked through the evening garden, took a deep breath, shivered a little and felt the tension of the unpleasant situation slowly recede. She strolled along a long, winding garden path past artfully arranged hedges, small spheres woven from Lieht Essence glimmering here and there, bathing the garden in a soft light.

In a secluded corner, Valentina found a stone bench half hidden behind a rose bush. She sat down and pulled the folded poem out of her bag. In the twilight of the evening, she could barely decipher the letters, but every verse of the poem was burned into her memory.

"Her hair, soft as the quiet night," she murmured pensively, brushing a particularly unruly strand out of her face. Was her hair really that soft? She had never perceived her hair as anything special.

A slight rustling startled her. To her surprise, a black cat leapt nimbly out of the bush and began to scrutinize her with shrewd eyes. The cat sat motionless on a stone, only the tip of its tail twitching a little.

"And what are you doing here, dear cat?" Valentina whispered kindly to her. "Are you also looking for a little peace and quiet?"

The cat blinked lazily, but otherwise remained motionless. Somehow, Valentina found her attentive gaze reassuring.

She turned her attention back to the garden. As her eyes adjusted to the twilight, she could see the fine Essence patterns shimmering around the plants. Around the particularly beautiful rose bush was an intricate weave of Leb Essence, pulsating like a living heart.

Valentina hesitantly reached out and could feel the energy emanating from the pattern, it was warm and inviting. Without thinking, she began to trace the pattern in the air with her hands, just as she had learned in her lectures.

To her great surprise, the essence responded immediately to her touch. New life was breathed into the rosebuds, some of which had already reached the end of their life cycle, and their leaves began to bloom again in the cold autumn air. Their sweet scent spread and, for a moment, Valentina felt like she was surrounded by pure Leb Essence.

"Impressive," a croaky voice sounded behind her. "Not many first-year students have such a knack for Leb Essence, it's not easy, you know."

Startled, Valentina spun on her heel. An old man in the green uniform of the university gardeners was standing a few steps away from her. His calloused hands rested on an old rake and his eyes sparkled kindly under his bushy white eyebrows.

"Sorry," Valentina stammered. "I didn't mean to make a mess of your garden."

The old gardener laughed softly. "Not at all, my child, don't worry. You haven't done anything wrong. Quite the opposite, in fact. Thanks to your touch, these roses will bloom beautifully, even well into the winter."

Groaning, he bent down to the roses, which were now in full bloom, and took a closer look at them. With a swift movement that Valentina would not have believed his old hands capable of, he ran his hands over the flowers. Leb Essence flowed between his fingers, interweaving with the existing patterns and reinforcing them.

"You see?" he explained. "Essence Weaving is much more than simple theory and formulas. It's an art form, a dance with the energy itself. You have to have a knack for it, it's not enough to just hang over books."

Valentina watched in fascination as the Essence pattern changed under his experienced hands. "Can you show me how to do that?" she asked eagerly.

The old gardener laughed amiably. "Gladly, my child. But not tonight. It's getting late and even the plants need their rest. Especially a gnarled old tree like me." He winked at her. "Another time!"

With a final friendly nod, he turned and limped away through the hedges, as quietly as he had come. The cat had also made off in the meantime.

Valentina remained seated for a moment longer, still preoccupied by the events of the day. The embarrassing poem, Faustus' relentless mockery, the unexpected kindness of the old gardener - everything was whirling around in her head in disorder. She knew she had to clear her head. Full of shame, she thought of her parents, her family, who had literally given everything to make it possible for her to attend Bridgewater University at all. What would her father think of her if he could see her now, sitting there, her undergarments in a bunch over a silly love poem and a fat mocking aristocrat's son, instead of concentrating diligently on her studies? While the family had to work their butts off to pay off the debts they had incurred so that Valentina could become an Essence Weaver. She could imagine all too well what he would say to her. She stretched and rubbed her eyes. "Pull yourself together and focus on your studies Valentina!" she scolded herself instead of her father.

As it began to get seriously dark, she finally got up and walked back to the university with renewed determination. As she walked through the cold evening air, admiring the last Essence vibrations of the garden, an idea slowly grew in her mind. Perhaps, she thought, it was time to find ways to supplement her limited resources a little. What she had was barely enough to live on and she was trying as hard as she could, but her wealthier fellow students, who could afford more books, more parchment, more special tutorials and, above all, more Distilled Essence than she could, were slowly but surely passing her by. Perhaps she would find what she was looking for in the library today. Not that she had managed that so far. Although the library had almost become her second home, so often did she spend time there to fill in the gaps in her knowledge.