After the commotion, everything returned to tranquility.
The night deepened into silence.
Inside the low-year student dormitory at the Knight Academy, Snow Hill was tending to Sang’s wounds. There were no life-threatening injuries—just superficial scrapes. The real issue stemmed from his repeated use of [Layer of Power]; the side effects were severe. Now, he could only lie in bed, though he could still move his arms and legs.
It wasn’t so bad, really.
Though uncomfortable, it remained within tolerable limits.
This was nothing compared to the backlash from the last time he had used [Layer of Power] alongside Snow Hill.
That time, the pain had been excruciating—enough to send him into a coma for a full week. Even after waking, the slightest mental exertion had knocked him out again.
As for Shika, Aisha Hodhua was treating his wounds elsewhere. The Pink-Haired Little Lolita proved sensible enough; she knew to give Sang and Snow Hill some private space to talk and had deliberately stayed away from the dorm.
The dormitory sat high up, boasting its own private balcony.
At that moment, wisps of cold, biting moonlight slipped in from one side. They spilled lazily across the room, the bed, and the ice-blue figure seated there, rendering her even more aloof—like a crystal-clear spring nestled in an icy mountain gorge.
Snow Hill remained as coolly distant as ever. She wore a knight’s uniform interwoven with white, silver, and blue, the Blue Rose Sword sheathed at her waist. Her long hair was tied back in a ponytail, and at one meter eighty-seven, she sat gracefully by the bedside. Her eyes gleamed like priceless blue gems, their lashes tipped with faint flecks of ice crystal, evoking snow lotuses in full bloom atop a frigid peak.
Though he had closed some of the distance between them during that battle in the Northern Region, a year later, upon reuniting, that sense of remoteness had returned.
He had clearly grown stronger, yet she still felt impossibly far away.
“Talk about awkward. It’s been so long since we last met, and the moment we reunite, you catch me in such a pathetic state again—like that first encounter when Samuel Cape beat the tar out of me. Have I really made zero progress?” Perhaps owing to the light physical contact of wound-tending, Sang’s cheeks flushed as he babbled nonsense.
“Mm. From the results, yes.”
“Uh… come on, why say it like that? You can’t even sugarcoat it a little… I just got my ass handed to me—body and soul worn out—and here you are piling on…”
“Just stating the facts.”
Well…
Their dynamic had always been one of pursuit and evasion, maintaining about twenty meters’ distance. But now, with her taking the initiative to treat his wounds at point-blank range, Sang found himself utterly at a loss.
In the brief silence that followed, he groped for another topic. “Didn’t expect you to be so skilled at patching people up…”
As she worked on the young man’s injuries, she replied, “As my exclusive knight, you should understand this better than anyone: I am not invincible. I can be hurt, too…”
“Sorry, that was unnecessary. All right, serious question now—why are you here?”
At his words, Snow responded calmly, “You’re a smart one, and you’ve been through a noble investiture ceremony. So… no need to ask questions you already know the answer to.”
She might appear impassive, but her heart was as transparent as glass. She could always see right through the young man’s thoughts.
He had known this day would come. He just hadn’t expected it so soon.
After more than a year, the investiture ceremony for the Hill Family Head was nearly upon them!
Snow Hill, as the central figure, had to journey to the Central Hub and formally accept the title under the witness of the assembled nobility. That was the reason for her presence here—a mere stop along the way.
Deep down, the young man hated the idea of Snow Hill—this girl who cherished books and flowers—forcing herself into the role of Family Head against her true desires. But by now, he had come to accept it.
After all… it had been decided long ago.
To wear a crown, one must bear its weight…
One day, this girl would stand among the Northern Monuments. Driven by honor and duty, she would charge toward death and find her eternal rest amid the Extreme North Mountain Range.
Rather than dwell on her becoming the Family Head he wished she could avoid, he would grow stronger instead—to shoulder some of her burden. That was what an exclusive knight did.
As the young man’s thoughts drifted, a cool sensation touched his brow. He looked up to find her fingertip gently tapping there—just as she used to. Back then, it had felt arrogant; now, it carried a warmth of intimacy.
“Snow… why’d you poke my forehead out of nowhere?”
Snow Hill lowered her gaze, her expression as impassive as ever. Faintly, she murmured, “Nothing. I just wanted to see your reaction…”
“What do you mean by that?”
A soft sigh escaped her. “I merely wanted to check if nobility had changed those initial qualities of yours… It seems it hasn’t.”
Struck by a sudden impulse, Sang pressed, “Snow, I’m curious—what exactly do you mean by my ‘precious qualities’?”
Was it his swordsmanship talent?
His unique ability, [Layer of Power]?
Or… his looks?!
The last one seemed most plausible…
But Snow Hill answered, “Your most precious quality is your ordinariness.”
Sang drew in a sharp breath. “You… how can you insult me like that?”
He felt belittled by her once more.
Sang knew the truth, though. He might gripe about Snow Hill underestimating him, but in reality, he relished the profound sense of security she provided.
Snow Hill remained seated primly by the bed, bathed in the silvery moonlight. She gazed steadily at the young man and said calmly, “Sang, I didn’t choose you for your sword talent or your superpower. Quite the opposite—it was your ordinariness that drew me. You have your weaknesses, yet you always step forward. You make mistakes, yet you reflect and improve. You crave comfort at times, yet you never stagnate.”
To be ordinary, mundane… that was the rarest treasure of all.
Because he was ordinary, he understood the common folk.
Like so many everyday people, Sang drifted with the currents of this chaotic world yet clung fiercely to his original ideals. Even after gaining power and status, he never lost sight of them. He strove to make those around him better.
He might not change the world, but he could influence those nearby, spreading virtuous qualities bit by bit.
Thanks to Snow Hill’s words, Sang gained a deeper understanding of himself.
He had long harbored a misconception: that his transmigrator origins accounted for all his odd ideas.
In truth, it had nothing to do with being a transmigrator. On the contrary, it stemmed not from anything extraordinary—but from his very ordinariness.
Her words soothed him like a balm. Sang broke into a dopey grin; he had never been good with praise. In that moment—perhaps out of sentimentality—the young man shifted topics again, another question bubbling up. Was she really just passing through?
He recalled the letter he had sent her recently, mentioning his return to Knight Academy City for further studies.
As Sang covertly studied Snow Hill, she spoke first, before he could voice it. “That habit of yours—overthinking without masking your emotions—is flaring up again…”
“N-No… it’s nothing. Actually, I wanted to ask… did you come to see me on purpose?” Sang wasn’t the bashful type, especially around those he knew well. If anything, he could be rather shameless.
He understood his feelings for Snow Hill well enough. It was admiration—not romantic love, but the devotion of a fanboy to his idol.
Snow Hill paused, ever so slightly. A flicker of something inscrutable entered her usually emotionless peach-blossom eyes. No one could tell what passed through her mind. Her lips parted faintly, and the hand resting on her thigh lifted, reaching toward the young man.
But before her fingers could make contact, a gentle knock sounded at the door.
