The classroom was unusually quiet that morning, but it wasn't the calm of peace. It was the silence of tension. The exams had rolled into their second day, and the atmosphere wrapped itself around the building like a thick cloud. Students sat stiffly at their desks, brows furrowed, lips moving silently as they muttered formulas, definitions, and fragments of notes they hoped would stay lodged in their brains long enough to scribble down.
Pencils tapped nervously. Pages flipped back and forth. The air smelled faintly of paper, ink, and stress.
In the middle of it all, Lila leaned back in her chair with her usual lazy poise, one earbud tucked in, the faint hum of music shielding her from the restless energy around her. To her, this was nothing. A paper test couldn't compare to the kind of tests she had already survived — missions where failure meant a bullet in the head or a knife in the dark. Compared to that, these questions were child's play.
When the teacher finally walked in, carrying a neat stack of exam sheets, the students straightened instantly. The shuffle of chairs echoed. Papers were passed out row by row, each page landing with a sharp thud on desks. Murmurs ceased.
Lucien Vale, seated by the window, didn't even glance at anyone. His dark eyes were focused on the paper the moment it touched his desk. His pen moved swiftly, precise strokes cutting across the page. He was a machine when it came to this, and everyone knew it.
Lila, on the other hand, only skimmed the first page with a quick glance. She didn't even frown. She simply picked up her pen, her hand gliding effortlessly as though she had already solved these questions in her head long before. Within ten minutes, the paper was filled, neat and confident. Without pausing, she slid it to the corner of her desk, folded her arms, and rested her head down.
And then, just like that, she was asleep.
The supervising teacher noticed her and shook his head. He didn't even bother walking closer this time. "When will this girl ever be serious," he muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing. From his angle, it looked as if she hadn't touched the paper. He didn't notice the clean, precise answers that sat waiting in black ink.
Around her, classmates sneaked glances and snickered.
"She's sleeping again. In the middle of exams."
"Why even bother showing up?"
"Some people don't value education."
Their whispers carried across the room, but none of them dared say it loud enough for the teacher to hear.
When the time was called, the students shuffled to the front, dropping their papers in a pile. Lucien handed his in calmly, his face unreadable. Others rushed, some sweating, others muttering prayers under their breath. Finally, the teacher called out Lila's name with impatience. She stirred awake, rubbed her eyes lightly, stretched as though she had just taken a nap in her bedroom, and walked forward. Her paper slid onto the pile, her expression unreadable. She ignored the teacher's glare and returned to her seat without a word.
By the time the bell rang and they were dismissed, the class was already buzzing about how "Lila was hopeless again." But she didn't even bother taking out her earbuds. She walked out like the words never touched her.
Outside, the sunlight was sharp and bright, bouncing off the rows of polished cars that always lined up in front of the school. She stepped onto the pavement when a familiar black car door opened. Adrien stepped out first, tall, well-dressed, his features calm but his eyes carrying something warmer when he spotted her.
"Miss," he said, striding toward her with a small smile.
And then came the old man, leaning on his cane, but his steps were stronger than the last time she had seen him. His face broke into a wide smile as he saw her.
"My dear!" His voice trembled with genuine joy. "You came."
Lila paused, headphones still in, but she removed one bud. She gave a small nod, expression neutral, though her eyes softened just a little.
The old man clasped her hand firmly. "Thank you. Thank you for sparing your time. Please, come with us. It would mean a lot."
Adrien's voice carried the same note of sincerity. "Grandfather's been waiting since morning. We'd be honored."
Lila hesitated, just long enough for Adrien to wonder if she'd turn them down. Then, wordlessly, she stepped forward.
The Ravencourt car — sleek, black, expensive — swallowed her in its leather seats. The ride was quiet, Adrien glancing at her once or twice, his curiosity clear but unspoken. Lila's gaze remained on the passing scenery, expression unreadable.
When they arrived, the Ravencourt estate rose like something out of another world. The gates opened silently, revealing a sprawling mansion of stone and glass, surrounded by trimmed gardens and fountains that sparkled in the afternoon sun. It was wealth and power, carved into architecture.
The butlers bowed as the car rolled up the driveway. One held the door open for her, his eyes flicking with curiosity at the girl walking alongside his employers.
Inside, the dining hall was set as though for royalty. A long polished table gleamed under the chandelier's glow, silver cutlery and crystal glasses already in place. The smell of rich food filled the air.
The old man — Magnus Ravencourt — gestured warmly. "Sit, child, sit. You are most welcome in my home."
Adrien pulled out a chair for her. Lila sat without a word, her posture calm but alert, her eyes scanning the details of the room almost instinctively.
Food was served. Conversation flowed lightly at first, mostly Magnus reminiscing about the small things — how the sun was brighter today, how he had not felt this light in years. Adrien watched with quiet amazement; it was the first time in a long while that his grandfather looked genuinely happy.
"You bring me peace, Lila," Magnus said suddenly as the meal wound down. His voice carried weight now, heavier than before. "But I did not call you here only for gratitude."
Lila looked up, waiting.
Magnus exhaled slowly, his fingers tightening on his cane. "I need your help. My daughter… she has not spoken a word in years. Not since the night she lost her husband… and her twins. Her silence has broken this family. We've tried doctors, specialists, even fools who promised miracles. Nothing. She only screams when we try to bring the twins near her, thinking they could comfort her. She drives them away every time. My heart…" His voice cracked for the first time. "…my heart is tired of seeing her like this."
Adrien lowered his gaze, his jaw tightening.
Lila said nothing. She only listened, her expression unreadable but her eyes sharp.
Magnus straightened slowly. "If you can help her — if you can bring back even one word from her lips — I will give you anything. Any amount. Name it, and it is yours."
Lila's lips curved into the faintest ghost of a smile. "I don't need your money."
Magnus blinked, startled.
"I only need one thing," she continued. "That's when I call for you, when I need something… You will stand with me. You will not hesitate."
Magnus looked at her for a long moment, then his shoulders relaxed. "Done. Without question. You have my word."
Adrien's eyes lingered on her, searching for what lay beneath those words, but Lila didn't glance his way.
A servant led her down the quiet corridor. The air grew colder the further they went, silence pressing heavily until the door opened to a dim, softly lit room.
On the bed lay a woman, her face pale but beautiful, her features worn by sorrow more than age. She was still, her chest rising and falling faintly with sleep.
Lila walked forward, every step strangely heavy. Something inside her stirred, a pull she couldn't explain. She reached the bedside, her hand brushing gently against the woman's wrist to check her pulse. The moment her skin touched, the woman's eyes fluttered open.
Her gaze fell directly on Lila.
And then she moved.
Her hands shot up, clutching Lila's with startling strength. She sat upright in a rush, eyes wide, tears brimming.
"My daughter…" Her voice was raw, trembling, yet it rang clear.
Lila froze, her mind momentarily blank.
The woman's arms wrapped around her tightly, desperately, as if afraid she would vanish if she let go. "My daughter… I'm sorry… I'm so sorry for leaving you… Don't leave me again… Mummy is here now. I'll take care of you, I promise. Don't go…"
Her words tumbled out, broken but fierce. Tears streamed down her face as she buried it against Lila's shoulder, repeating over and over, "My daughter… my daughter…"
Behind them, Magnus stood frozen, cane trembling in his grip. Adrien's eyes widened, his throat tightening as he whispered hoarsely, "Grandfather… what if…"
The room was thick with silence, except for the woman's desperate cries. And for the first time, even Lila — the unshakable, unbothered Lila — felt her chest tighten.