Felicity walked to the staircase, rubbing her right hand and clutching her baton.

"It hurts..." she mumbled, her tone a mix of complaint and fatigue.

She folded the baton carefully and slid it back into the holster strapped to her thigh beneath her skirt.

Reaching the top of the staircase, she sank onto the steps, pulling out a small flask from her pocket.

She unscrewed the cap, took a sip of whiskey, and let out a sigh, her gaze unfocused as she stared ahead.

"What if he comes back?" she muttered to herself, her voice carrying a hint of apprehension.

"And this time I have to face him alone..."

She took another sip, grimacing slightly at the burn.

After putting the flask away, Felicity stretched out on the staircase, lying stiff as a board with her arms crossed over her chest.

She rubbed her bruised hand absently, a faint sniffle escaping her lips.

"Mama... it hurts..." she whispered to herself, the words tinged with a childlike vulnerability.

Then, with a bitter laugh, she muttered, "This is worse than listening to Master complain..."

Closing her eyes, she let the ache subside for a moment before a sly smile crept onto her lips.

"At least that Edward guy said my face is cute," she mused, her voice carrying a trace of pride.

"Still..."

The moment of satisfaction passed as she frowned again, her voice reverting to a whine.

"It still hurts. Better rest while I can."

Minutes ticked by in relative silence.

Suddenly, confident footsteps echoed from inside the building.

The faint orchestral music grew slightly louder as the doors opened, revealing a tall figure framed in the doorway.

He wore the Saint Aelric Academy uniform, the capelet draped elegantly over his shoulders.

The hip-length cape was fastened with a decorative cord, its gold trim glinting faintly in the dim light.

The design exuded a subtle glamour, further emphasized by the way it covered the left side of his body entirely.

His sleek, straight hair was parted to the side, with one strand falling over his left eye.

The man paused, his gaze settling on the maid sprawled on the steps like a corpse at her own funeral.

"Felicity," he called, his tone calm yet laced with faint disapproval.

Felicity didn't move.

She remained still, peeking open one eye only after a long moment of silence.

The instant she moved, he continued.

"Good, you're not wasted drunk. Tell the coachman we're going home."

Letting out a deep sigh, she sat up, her legs still stretched out in front of her.

"Master, don't you still have business with Lady Dorothea and the others?"

His expression didn't change as he replied, "Canceled. She has urgent business with the King's Guard."

Felicity arched a brow.

"For the freshman hunting tournament?"

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"Of course. Now, hurry."

His tone was curt, leaving no room for argument.

Felicity stood with a reluctant groan, brushing off her uniform.

Her master's sharp eyes scanned the scene—whiskey bottle nearby, scuffed stone, faint signs of disturbance.

He made no comment on the chaos but instead asked pointedly,

"Where are your friends?"

"Don't know," she replied flatly, her tone devoid of interest.

"Tell them their master is waiting inside," he instructed with a frustrated click of his tongue.

"Tsk, why am I the one fetching their servants?"

He turned and walked back through the door, the faint strains of orchestral music briefly louder before it closed behind him.

Once he was gone, Felicity pulled her flask from her pocket again, taking a defiant sip.

This time, she also retrieved a small ivory whistle from the same pocket.

"Bridget's going to kill me for this... but who cares?" she muttered, grinning to herself.

Raising the whistle to her lips, she blew.

The sound was barely audible, more air than tone, but she kept at it, puffing out notes as if attempting to play a jaunty tune.

Her smirk widened as she leaned back against the railing, utterly unconcerned about the consequences.

Edward leapt from a garden lamp to a tree, then to another lamp, his movements fluid and calculated.

Not far behind, Cecilia mirrored his motions, closing the gap with agile precision.

Her rope lashed out, its hook spiraling toward Edward's feet.

He avoided it, but the dodge forced him to change course, landing squarely in the midst of a group of maids and butlers chatting on the garden pathway.

Before anyone could react, Edward leapt again, soaring past them.

Bridget appeared out of nowhere, her double axe-handle attack aimed squarely at him.

The ground cracked beneath her as she missed, and the group of maids and butlers scattered gracefully to avoid the impact.

"Was that Ms. Helvig from the Caerwysg house?" one butler asked, recognizing Bridget.

"Who's she chasing?" a maid chimed in.

"Probably some rookie servant who made her mad," another maid speculated.

"I hope I never do anything that stupid," the maid muttered nervously.

A butler, unimpressed, scoffed.

"Whatever the reason, both of them are acting foolish, especially with us around."

Meanwhile, Edward, Bridget, and Cecilia continued their relentless chase.

Despite the academy complex being vast, Edward knew running wouldn't be enough to escape them.

Their persistence and skill ensured the pursuit would only end on their terms.

Edward led them to a secluded area, his sharp instincts noting the absence of Cecilia in his immediate vicinity.

Only Bridget, running on the ground, remained visible.

Suddenly, Cecilia emerged from behind a statue, her shortcut perfectly timed to intercept him.

Her rope lashed out, aiming to ensnare Edward's torso.

He caught the rope mid-flight, gripping it tightly.

With a sharp pull, Cecilia was yanked forward, her arm coiled in the rope as she flew toward him.

Edward caught her mid-air, her body colliding against his face..

His strong grip wrapped around her, pinning her arms against her sides.

His face pressed against her breasts, and due to their height difference, her feet dangled just above the ground.

"Oh my, if this is what you wanted, you could've just asked," Cecilia quipped, her tone dripping with mockery.

Before Cecilia could react, Edward tightened his hold, eliciting a faint cracking sound.

Edward released her abruptly, letting her drop to her knees.

She gasped but quickly regained her composure, her hand instinctively moving to her ribs.

Bridget approached, concern evident on her face as Cecilia stood up, brushing herself off.

"Are you okay?" Bridget asked, her tone steady but laced with worry.

Cecilia smirked, wincing slightly.

"He broke a few ribs, but nothing serious."

Bridget let out a hearty laugh.

"That's what happens when you think this is just a game."

Cecilia's smile turned mischievous.

"The pain's almost... thrilling. But I didn't expect him to take it so seriously. Does he really think we're trying to arrest him?"

Bridget shook her head.

"No, he knows. He's just adjusting because he knows we can handle it.

After all, he was trained by Madam Ophelia like her own son."

Cecilia froze mid-step, her face shifting from surprise to shock.

She tripped, landing face-first on the ground.

Bridget stopped in her tracks, confused.

Cecilia stood abruptly, adjusting her glasses with a sharp motion.

Her tone was laced with disbelief.

"Wait, you mean The Silver Gauntlets Ophelia?!"

Bridget tilted her head slightly, confused.

"Why so surprised? I thought you already knew."

Cecilia threw her arms up in irritation, her voice rising.

"You and your brain always think we know what you know!

How would I have any idea about something that important?!"

"Is that really important?" Bridget asked, her expression genuinely puzzled.

Cecilia let out an exasperated sigh, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Of course, it is! If I'd known that, I would've been nice to him from the start."

Bridget furrowed her brow further.

"Huh? Why would that matter?"

"Are you really that dense? Because of Madam Ophelia!" Cecilia snapped, her patience thinning.

Bridget shrugged nonchalantly.

"What's the big deal? We can always see her if we go to Hartingham Palace."

"Huh? We?! You said we?!" Cecilia's voice cracked with disbelief, her irritation boiling over.

"No! It's just you! You're a Caerwysg servant—practically royalty among us!

Your family's practically been etched into the kingdom's history books for serving the crown.

The rest of us don't even get to dream about that kind of access!"

She started mumbling to herself, her words dripping with despair and longing.

"I could've gotten close to him... dated him... he's not that bad.

Maybe even married him if he wanted.

Then I could've gotten close to Madam Ophelia... gotten a handshake... had tea with her..."

Bridget stared down at her with raised eyebrows.

"Huh. I didn't know you were into younger boys. You do realize he's only seventeen, right?"

Cecilia jabbed Bridget sharply in the stomach without missing a beat.

"Like hell I'd know that kind of detail with how he looks!"

Bridget groaned but managed a small laugh.

"Fair point. Still, we should hurry and catch him before he does something stupid."

Cecilia folded her arms with a huff.

"No. You're the stupid one. Chase him by yourself. I'm done."

"Oh, come on!" Bridget groaned, her frustration growing.

Suddenly, Bridget winced, her hands flying to her ears as she grunted in annoyance.

Her face twisted, not in pain but in visible irritation, as though she were hearing an unbearable, shrill noise.

Cecilia instantly recognized the reaction and sighed.

"Feli blew the whistle, didn't she?"

"Yeah," Bridget confirmed through gritted teeth, her tone resigned.

"So, we're heading back?" Cecilia asked, already expecting the answer.

"Yeah," Bridget muttered, lowering her hands slowly.

"But I'm more interested in burying Felicity's face in the dirt if this turns out to be for something pointless.

No... I'll still bury her face regardless."

With that, the two maids turned and began making their way back, leaving the chase—and Edward—for another time.