Lily saw Victor the moment he stepped out of the potion section.
She had been waiting near the corridor, arms crossed loosely, posture casual but eyes alert. When she caught sight of him, she straightened instinctively. There was a faint, almost unconscious lift to her expression—an expectation she herself did not fully understand.
She looked at his face.
And her expression faltered.
Victor's face was calm.
Too calm.
There was no anger there. No irritation. No sarcasm ready to spill from his lips. His eyes were steady, distant, as if whatever had just occurred in the potion chamber had already been placed behind a locked door.
Lily hesitated.
She smiled slightly, her chin lifting just a bit—an expression that hovered somewhere between pride and anticipation, as if she were waiting for him to say something.
Anything.
Praise. Relief. Gratitude. Even annoyance would have been better than this silence.
Victor did not speak.
He did not even slow his steps.
He walked past her without a word.
Lily blinked, momentarily stunned.
"Victor?" she called after him.
He did not respond.
She turned fully now, watching his back as he moved down the corridor toward the hospital wing. His footsteps were measured, unhurried, as if nothing in the world could force him to change his pace.
Confusion crept into her expression.
She followed.
Victor entered his cabin without looking back. He went directly to the shelves, gathering his belongings with mechanical precision—notes, tools, a folded cloak. He did not linger. He did not pause.
Lily stood in the doorway, watching him in silence.
"What are you doing?" she asked finally.
Victor did not answer.
He closed the drawer, slung the cloak over his arm, and walked past her again.
This time, Lily reacted immediately.
She caught up to him in the corridor and stepped in front of him, blocking his path.
"Why are you acting like this?" she demanded.
Victor stopped.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then something in his chest tightened sharply, as if an invisible hand had clenched around his heart.
This is pointless, he told himself.
But the gloom crept in anyway.
Instead of answering her question, Victor asked one of his own.
"Why did you go to the potion section?" he said quietly.
Lily frowned. "What?"
"Did Mery Hell ask you to go there?" he continued, his voice even. "Did she request your help?"
Lily straightened slightly, pride flashing across her face.
"No," she said. "I went there myself."
She lifted her chin. "I didn't want you to have to deal with that old hag anymore."
The words landed.
Victor felt something sink.
Not violently.
Slowly.
Like a stone descending into deep water.
She went there alone.
For a brief moment, his thoughts scattered.
He had calculated risk. Anticipated hostility. Weighed probabilities.
He had never accounted for this.
Lily watched his face closely now, noticing the change.
She waited for him to speak.
Victor said nothing.
He resumed walking.
Lily followed, growing increasingly unsettled.
They passed through the hospital gates and onto the path leading away from the grounds. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the stone.
When they reached the riverbank, Victor stopped.
He stared at the water for several seconds.
Then he laughed.
It was not loud.
It was not joyful.
It was the kind of laughter that carried no warmth at all.
Lily froze.
"Victor…?" she said cautiously.
He laughed again, the sound sharper this time, edged with something dangerously close to instability.
She stepped closer. "Why are you laughing?"
Victor stopped abruptly.
He turned to face her.
"I don't want to see you get lost," he said flatly.
The words were emotionless.
But they struck harder than any raised voice.
Lily's throat tightened.
Her eyes burned.
For a split second, she looked as though she might cry.
Then anger surged up, raw and uncontrollable.
"Why are you acting like this toward me?!" she demanded.
Victor did not raise his voice.
"How should I speak," he replied evenly, "to someone who wants to kill me?"
The words fell like ice.
Lily's breath caught.
"…What?" she whispered.
"When did I ever try to kill you?!"
Victor looked at her.
And then, instead of answering her directly, he raised his voice.
"Arthur," he said calmly. "Come out if you have the courage."
The air shifted.
A figure stepped out from concealment near the trees.
Arthur appeared without sound and knelt respectfully before Lily.
"Your Highness," he said.
Victor smiled.
It was not a pleasant smile.
"Do you want to listen too?" Victor asked quietly.
Lily stared between them, then clenched her fists.
"Leave us," she ordered.
Arthur hesitated briefly, then bowed and disappeared into the shadows.
Victor turned back to Lily.
"After I answer your question," he said, "you and I will have nothing to do with each other."
Lily's anger flared brighter.
"All I wanted was to help you!" she said. "Why are you treating me like this?!"
Victor did not respond immediately.
Instead, he looked toward the river.
A fish leapt from the water, struggling briefly against gravity before splashing back beneath the surface.
Victor watched it quietly.
"…Do you know what that looks like to me?" he asked.
Lily said nothing.
"It doesn't matter how much it jumps," Victor continued. "It will always fall back into the river."
He turned to her.
"I am the same."
Lily's expression faltered.
Victor inhaled slowly.
"Do you know," he said, "that when I was eight years old, my parents died in the war?"
Lily froze.
"I was left alone," Victor went on. "Helpless. I didn't know what to do."
His voice remained steady, but something underneath it had begun to crack.
"I survived by relying on the Grey family," he said. "That was my only choice."
He paused.
"When I joined the academy, I believed things would change. I believed I could become a magician."
His eyes darkened.
"Then the awakening test happened."
He laughed softly.
"I awakened my talent."
Lily listened, unmoving.
"And instead of graduation," Victor said, "I was expelled. Kicked out of the academy."
His jaw tightened.
"All my hope was shattered."
He continued, voice low.
"That wasn't enough. Knights began watching me. Following me."
"When King Wilson ascended the throne," Victor said, "I was expelled from the Grey family as well."
He met her gaze.
"And instead of the surveillance decreasing, it increased."
Lily's hands trembled.
"There is more," Victor said.
"You may not know this," he continued, "but I am not only a healer. I am extremely sensitive to magical presence."
He tapped his temple lightly.
"At first, I sensed knights watching me. I adapted."
His eyes hardened.
"Then the aura changed."
Lily felt cold.
"There were assassins," Victor said quietly. "I could sense their killing intent."
The river flowed on.
Uncaring.
Unending.
And Lily finally understood—
Helping him was never simple.
And love—whatever that word meant—was the most dangerous thing she could offer him.