The official reason for today’s meeting was to exchange knowledge about magic—a convenient excuse for their gathering. Beneath the surface, politics might have been at play, but there was also a genuine desire to grow closer to the friends they’d unexpectedly clicked with at the start of the term.

After all, the four of them were the cream of the S Class. Evan, the undisputed top ranker; Blair, holding steady in second place; and Alan and Matthew, tied for third.

This year’s S Class was unusual, though. Alongside these four were four more Force awakeners—among them, three were talented commoners brought in on sponsorship and scholarship—and two more students teetering on the edge of Vision awakening.

Such an arrangement wasn’t the norm. S Class had always been reserved for those who had already awakened, not for those who hadn’t. But this year, they’d made an exception. Officially, it was because only one student with Vision awakened was available. That was the story, at least.

Of course, both of those unawakened students happened to be nobles. Had they been commoners, exceptions would’ve been far less likely, wouldn’t they?

In total, there were ten students in the S Class: seven from the Force Department and three from the Vision Department. Among them, four were commoners—including Evan, though his wealth made that status feel more like a technicality—and six were nobles. One of those nobles, naturally, was a princess.

All the Force Department students had seen Evan’s entrance test, and every single one of them admired him. Especially the six other Force Awakeners in the S Class. On the first day of class, they flocked to him like moths to a flame, drawn by the fact that he wasn’t affiliated with any political faction.

That is, until they noticed how chummy he was with the other three top rankers, who just so happened to also hold the highest noble standings: Alan, from the Prime Minister’s faction; Matthew, from the neutral faction; and Blair, from the First Prince’s faction.

Of course. Of course. Why wouldn’t they cozy up to him? A powerhouse appearing out of nowhere, unattached to any political side? Oh, and did anyone mention his family just happened to own the second richest merchant group on the entire continent?

Naturally, this epiphany made everyone else think twice about approaching Evan. It didn’t help that they started to notice something strange—Evan wasn’t sucking up to the nobles, and, oddly enough, they weren’t fawning over him either. No scandals, no drama. In fact, the three of them seemed to be making a point of keeping Evan out of politics entirely.

Seriously, was the academy always this... peaceful?

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But that was just inside the academy walls. Out in the real world, it was probably a whole different story. Surely, the politics would kick in eventually—right?

Then came the news: the four had scheduled a weekend lunch meeting.

Perfect. Let’s see how the dust settles on Monday morning. Which faction would win the prize of roping the Sator into their fold?

HONK!

“AAAAAAA!”

HONK! HONK!

“WHY ARE THEY SO MAD? WE DIDN’T EVEN DO ANYTHING!”

“KYAHAHAHAHA!”

With a horde of geese in hot pursuit, Alan, Matthew, and Nemo dashed around the outer rim of the field. Despite her short legs, Nemo somehow outran both teens, leaving them scrambling behind as makeshift guardian knights for their friend’s baby sister. How exactly they managed to provoke the geese was anyone’s guess.

“Your family raises geese, Evan?” Blair asked, trying—and failing—to suppress a chuckle.

“Mama wanted to raise chickens for the eggs,” Evan began, completely unbothered by the chaos. “But Papa scared them so badly that they froze up and died from stress. So, we replaced them with geese instead. At least they don’t keel over just from having him around.”

Blair chuckled awkwardly, her amusement tinged with concern. “How… strange.”

“It’s not strange,” Evan said with a serene smile. “Dogs also pee themselves when they see Papa, so the chickens’ reaction makes perfect sense.”

Blair blinked at him. “...Is your Papa the Demon Lord?”

Old legends did say animals lost their minds in the presence of ultimate evil. But Evan just laughed, bright and carefree. “Worse! He’s my Papa!”

He’s Emperor Burn, the Absolute Tyrant after all!

Before Blair could think of an appropriate response, Bunny appeared, Morgante trailing behind her. “The safety precaution has been installed,” she announced cheerfully. “Now, just show me the spell you like the most.”

Blair hesitated, her nerves creeping back. “‘The spell I like the most?’”

Bunny nodded, still radiating enthusiasm. “Worried? Is it the hardest spell you know?”

Blair frowned, clearly caught off guard. That definitely wasn’t the question she was expecting.

“No, actually, it’s… silly,” she admitted, her cheeks turning pink.

“Is it sillier than my favorite spell?” Bunny chuckled, lightly tapping Blair’s head as if to tease her further.

The moment the Infinite Witch spoke, not only Blair, but even Evan and Morgante immediately perked up, hanging on her every word. What was the legendary witch’s favorite spell?

“It’s a voice fault spell,” Bunny said with a playful smile, her elegant fingers dancing through the air like she was plucking strings only she could see. And then it happened—flowers and starry sparkles bloomed from nothing, accompanied by soft, indistinct voices. The sound of people talking and laughing, warm and carefree, filled the air.

Blair’s breath hitched as she started picking out details. She heard Evan’s voice first—high and sweet, the way it must have sounded when he was much younger.

Then Morgante’s deep, rumbling tone, rich and commanding. And then, more voices joined in—countless echoes of laughter and chatter, carrying the warmth of moments long gone.

“See? What’s sillier than an unintelligible recording of laughs?” Bunny asked, her tone lighthearted and self-deprecating.

But Blair knew better. It wasn’t silly, not at all. That spell wasn’t just noise; it was a snapshot of joy, a memory of warmth preserved in magic. And somehow, that made it even more beautiful.

Voice Fault Spell? It’s more like bottled happiness, made with magic.