RHEIN'S POINT OF VIEW
The moment we entered the dining hall, the maids who had been bustling inside stepped out. A smile was formed on my lips as I saw my whole family gathered around the long table, sharing a meal together.
My stomach growled. I hadn't eaten at lunch, so the hunger was unbearable now. My eyes sparkled at the sight of the feast laid before us.
"Good evening!" I greeted them cheerfully.
"Good evening, Rhein," came the warm replies.
"Rhein, sit with me," Sister Rona called, patting the chair beside her. I nodded and slipped into the seat at her right, while Justin and Brother Dylan took the chairs directly across from us.
Halfway through dinner, Father broke the comfortable silence. "Justin, is your injury completely healed?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. Thanks to Princess Rhein's help." Justin smiled as he spoke.
"Rona told me earlier that your wound was severe." Father's gaze shifted to me, and I froze with a spoon halfway to my mouth. "My dear daughter, how did you manage to heal him?"
I blinked rapidly. Shall I tell the truth? That method was far too embarrassing to admit. How was I supposed to explain it? I stalled, sipping water before replying. "I healed him—"
"—externally." Brother Dylan's voice cut across mine, drawing everyone's attention. "Forgive me for interrupting, Your Majesty."
I frowned, studying his serious face. Why would he lie for me? I was about to correct him, but his sharp glance made me lower my eyes back to my plate.
"It's fine. Impressive work, Rhein," Father praised warmly. "You take after your mother and sister."
I pouted in a mock offense. "What about you, Father? Don't you want me to take after you?"
"Of course, you take after me too." He laughed heartily.
Before I could retort, chaos erupted at the far end of the table.
"Give it to me!"
"No, it's mine!"
"I got it first!"
"I was here before you!"
Sister Rona and I turned to see our praciens squabbling over the last apple. The fruit bowl was already empty. With a shake of my head, I snatched the apple from them and bit into it.
"There. It's mine now. No more fighting."
Both praciens glared daggers at me, and when the laughter around the table suddenly quieted, I looked up nervously. Everyone was staring, wide-eyed.
"W-what? Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Nothing," Mother said with a smile, though her tone was soft with meaning. "It's just... heartwarming to see how strong your bond is with the praciens."
"It's not that strong," I muttered. My eyes darted around the table. Something struck me then—since we'd sat down, I hadn't seen our parents' praciens. "Where are your partners? I'd love to meet them."
"They're with the Lithosowan Clan," she answered. "As praciens of the rah and nhar, it's their duty to help manage the clan."
"They visit once a year," Father added. "You'll meet them in December."
"I'll show you their pictures later," my sister offered. "Actually, they look almost exactly like Natre." She gestured to her pracien.
A pang of sadness struck me. When I pictured all of our praciens together, mine was the only one that didn't fit. Different. Out of place.
Forelody noticed the shift in my mood and fixed me with a knowing look. To cover it up, I teased her. "Forelody, you're the only white one among our family's partners. Poor thing, so out of place."
Insulted, she pecked my hand sharply. I yanked it back instinctively, jerking so hard that my chair tipped, and I landed flat on the floor.
"Ouch."
The whole table burst into laughter. I pressed my lips into a thin line as I got to my feet and dusted myself off. When I glared at Forelody, she glared right back—hers more terrifying than mine—so I quickly surrendered.
"Sorry. That's not what I meant." I scratched my cheek sheepishly. "What I meant was—you're different from the rest. That's what makes you special."
Her eyes softened. "Really?"
"Of course."
The rest of dinner passed in a cheerful conversation. I couldn't always follow the topics, but I laughed along anyway.
That night was the happiest I'd felt in so long. For a moment, it didn't feel like I had ever been separated from them.
Later, in my room, I realized the wardrobe was completely empty. Spotting a passing maid, I asked her to fetch me sleepwear. When she returned minutes later, I grimaced at what she brought: a short white nightgown. I never liked skirts—they made me uncomfortable.
"Shall I just assume you're a lesbian, Pracien?" Forelody teased, her beak somehow curling into a smug grin.
I folded the gown and set it on my bedside table without responding. Only after the maid left did I mutter, calm but firm, "I'm not comfortable with this. I won't be able to sleep in it." I refused to rise to her teasing again.
"Fine. I'll tell the maids to bring you something else," she said, flapping toward the door.
I opened it to let her out, but before I could shut it, a foot blocked the gap.
"Wait."
Startled, I looked up calmly. Brother Dylan stood there alone, his pracien nowhere in sight.
It was the first time I saw his eyes at night—indigo, strikingly clear. Honestly, they are even more beautiful than my own had ever been.
"Why aren't you changed yet?" he asked, glancing at my still-worn uniform. He, by contrast, had already changed into a simple shirt and shorts.
"A nightgown isn't for me. I'd rather wear pajamas, so I asked for another set," I explained, waiting for him to get to the point. When he remained silent, simply watching me, I tilted my head. "What brings you here?"
"Here." He handed me a white phone with a gray case. "Your sister sent this. Use it while you're here, but don't bring it back to the academy. I'm reminding you as student council president."
I nodded. "Got it. Thanks." I was about to shut the door when he blocked it again with his foot.
"There's something I need to tell you. Do you know why everyone went quiet when we looked at you earlier?"
"Because I stole the apple from the birds?" I guessed. Deep down, though, I knew that wasn't the reason. Mother's earlier excuse hadn't fooled me either.
Something strange had happened with my eyes. For a brief moment, I had felt a mnarill pulse through them. Brief, but undeniable. Father hadn't explained it because he knew I already understood.
"Do you want to know why?" Brother Dylan pressed.
I smiled faintly. "No need. I know. My eye color changed earlier. I just want to know—what color were they?"
"Gray. Ash gray," he said, just as I expected. It was surely the work of my hwiztamnarill and the crystal. "It suits you more than green—both the old and the current shade."
He even pointed at my eyes, a rare smile flickering across his lips. For the first time since in the aleid earlier, his serious demeanor softened.