Farewell
Night had settled over the Academy. Marion lay awake in his narrow bed, his heart heavy, his thoughts tangled. Manuel's words about the dead cat-girl echoed in his mind—blood, guilt, silence.
Then suddenly, the air in the room grew colder.
A shadow loosened itself from the darkness.
Tessa.
She stood at the foot of his cot, her red hair faintly glowing in the candlelight, her eyes burning gold.
"There you are," she whispered, as if he had been the one waiting for her.
Marion sat up, his heart pounding. "You… it was you, wasn't it? The cat-girl."
Tessa smiled softly, but her gaze was sharp. "Oh, Marion. Always so many questions."
"Tell me the truth," he pressed, his hands trembling. "Was it you?"
A moment of silence. Then she tilted her head slightly, as if granting him a small glimpse behind the curtain. "We had… a disagreement. She didn't like me. I didn't like her. That is all."
Marion stared at her in disbelief. "You… you killed her."
Tessa sighed gently and stepped closer, kneeling beside his bed. "Are you sorry? Because she was young? Because Manuel thought she was sweet? Or… because you feel a flicker of pity yourself?"
Her hand brushed along his cheek—cold and soft at once.
"I am sorry I must leave you for a while," she murmured. "But I have left you a gift. Something you will surely enjoy."
Marion swallowed hard. "A… gift?"
She smiled mysteriously, letting the answer hang in the air. "Perhaps you will find it tomorrow. Perhaps much later. But it is there."
His heart raced. Part of him felt fear; another part burned with wild curiosity. What does she mean? What has she done?
"Why… why are you leaving me?" he whispered.
Tessa leaned closer, her eyes blazing in the darkness. "I have matters to attend to. But someday… I will return."
Her voice brushed his ear like cold smoke. "And then we will continue our game, my little Marion."
His chest tightened painfully. "Please… don't go."
She only smiled, bent forward, and pressed a kiss to his lips.
It was not warm—it felt like a seal. A reminder that he belonged to her, whether he wished it or not.
Then she rose, her cloak whispering softly. "Sleep well, Marion. Dream of me."
In the next blink, she was gone—as if she had dissolved into air.
Marion sat there alone, heart racing, body trembling.
Disagreement. Gift. I will return.
His mind swirled with fear, longing, questions without answers. He touched the place where her lips had been and did not know: Was he cursed—or chosen?
Only one thing was certain:
Without her, the night felt darker.
And he was already addicted to her shadow.
Tamara's Approach
The sun stood high above the Academy courtyard. Voices blended into a restless murmur—quills scratching parchment, chairs scraping stone. For most students, it was an ordinary day. For Marion, it felt like balancing on the edge of something unseen.
He thought of Manuel's empty gaze that morning—hollow, drained. Since the cat-girl's death, something inside him had broken. Marion could feel the weight of guilt in his own bones. Tessa's words would not leave him: We had a disagreement…
"Bro, you look like a ghost today," Tobia muttered between bites of bread. "You sick or something?"
Manuel only shrugged. He had barely spoken all morning.
Marion was about to brush it off when he noticed movement at the edge of the courtyard. A figure stepped out of the crowd.
Tamara von Hohemfels.
Noble. Proud. Untouchable. She usually moved among the students like a swan—graceful and unreachable.
And now she was walking straight toward him.
"Marion."
Her voice was steady—but not as cold as the day she had rejected him in front of everyone.
His heart stopped.
He still remembered it vividly: days ago, pushed by a lost dare, urged on by Tobia and Manuel, he had stumbled toward her and confessed his feelings. He had stammered, flushed bright red, barely forming a sentence. She had looked at him as though he were an irritating insect. Some students had laughed. For Marion, it had been humiliation distilled into fire.
"Uh… yes?" he forced himself to look up.
Tamara paused, as if steadying herself. Then she spoke more quietly.
"I have been thinking about your proposal."
Tobia inhaled sharply. Manuel lifted his head for the first time in days, eyes widening.
"My proposal?" Marion echoed, confused. Hearing the word now sounded absurd.
"I was hasty," Tamara said. Her grey-blue eyes rested briefly on him before drifting away again. "Perhaps… we should try it. Once. Tomorrow. In the city."
Silence.
Then Tobia burst out, "Holy hell! Did you hear that?! She wants to date you!"
Manuel's lips twisted into a bitter half-smile. "Sure. The peasant and the noble lady. Sounds like a fairy tale."
Marion felt heat rush to his face.
Inside him, a storm raged.
Tessa's kiss still lingered on his lips—cold, intoxicating, like a brand. And now Tamara—the unreachable one who had once mocked him—stood here offering him a meeting of her own will.
"I… uh…" He couldn't find words.
Tamara drew a breath and gave a short nod. "Tomorrow afternoon. At the north gate." Then she turned, her dress whispering as she disappeared into the crowd, as if she had never been there.
An unsettled silence remained.
"Bro, you HAVE to go!" Tobia grabbed his shoulder. "This is THE chance! A noble! You could be king one day!"
Marion stared at the ground, thoughts racing. Tessa… Tamara…
Manuel watched him for a long moment, then exhaled sharply. "Or you're just the next piece in someone else's game. Don't fool yourself into thinking she means it."
His voice sounded tired, cracked.
"Sometimes… parents kill their own slaves," Manuel added quietly. "Just because they think their son likes her. You understand?"
Marion looked at him.
Something in Manuel's eyes had shattered.
The cat-girl. Her kiss. Her death.
It lay between them like a stone neither could move.
First Date with Tamara
The afternoon light spilled gold across the crooked rooftops of Parzipazio, warming the noise of the streets below. Marion stood at the north gate—too early, as always—his palms damp with nervous sweat. Every breath felt as though it might betray him.
What if she doesn't come?
What if she changed her mind?
The minutes dragged—until a slender figure stepped out of the crowd.
Tamara von Hohemfels.
She wore a pale blue dress, simple yet unmistakably elegant, so different from the other girls at the Academy. Her hair was braided with careful precision, and her grey-blue eyes shimmered when they found him.
"Marion."
She smiled. A real smile. Not mocking. Not proud.
"Tamara… hi." His voice nearly cracked; he cleared his throat quickly.
She stepped beside him, posture straight but not distant. "Shall we?"
They walked together through the streets. The city reeked of sweat, waste, and old blood. Beastfolk hauled heavy loads under whip strikes. A young wolf-girl staggered beneath a jug while her master prodded her with a stick. Beggars crouched beside market stalls, hollow-eyed. Children with sunken cheeks rummaged through refuse. Merchants shouted prices while chained elves were dragged onto platforms for wealthy patrons to inspect like livestock.
Marion saw all of it.
And yet, somehow, it blurred in the warmth beside him.
Tamara walked with her head held high, untouchable, and each time she turned toward him, the misery around them seemed to fade. It felt like walking through a dream—the normal boy and the noble girl.
"It's loud here," she said softly after a while. "Sometimes I wish the city were quieter."
"I… me too," Marion replied.
She gave him a brief glance, as if surprised he understood.
At a stall selling candied fruit, she stopped. "Do you want one?" Without waiting for his answer, she bought two skewers and handed one to him.
"Thanks." He bit into it. The sweetness stuck to his lips.
Tamara laughed lightly. "You have sugar on your face."
Before he could react, she gently wiped his cheek with a cloth. Her fingers brushed his skin—warm, soft. His heart pounded so loudly he was sure the entire street could hear it.
They wandered on, talking about small things—lessons, arrogant classmates, the ridiculous humor of Lukas and Basti. Tamara seemed relaxed. Not the distant noble—but just a girl, laughing when he stumbled over his words.
In front of a jewelry shop window, he tried to say something charming—and failed.
"It would suit you… I mean, if your father… uh…"
Tamara laughed again. Not cruelly. Warmly.
"You're terribly honest."
Time slipped away without him noticing.
When the sun dipped lower, they stopped near the Academy gates.
Tamara looked at him—serious now, but gentle. "It was nice, Marion."
He swallowed hard. "Yes. Very."
For one heartbeat, they simply stood there.
Then she leaned forward and kissed him.
Soft. Quick. Shy.
But real.
Marion forgot how to breathe. A real kiss. From Tamara.
"I'd like to see you again," she said quietly, cheeks flushed.
"Yes—please!" The words burst out louder than intended. She smiled at his awkwardness and turned toward the dormitory.
Marion remained standing there, heart racing, mind empty.
For the first time in a long while, he felt something other than guilt or longing.
He felt happy.
And that night, as he drifted into sleep, he did not think of Tessa. Not of blood. Not of the dead cat-girl.
Only of Tamara.
Classroom Gossip
The next morning began like any other—murmured conversations, chalk squeaking across the board, boots echoing in the corridor.
But the moment Marion entered the classroom, he knew something had changed.
Heads turned. Whispers spread from desk to desk. Eyes flicked toward him and quickly away.
"There he is," someone hissed. Laughter followed.
He sat down, heart pounding.
They know.
Tobia grinned at him exaggeratedly. "Bro, you're famous."
"Infamous," Manuel muttered, pale and quiet.
Before Marion could respond, Rico leaned back in his chair with a dirty grin. "So, Marion—what's it like having a noble girl in your bed?"
Laughter erupted.
"We just walked through the city," Marion muttered.
"Sure," Rico winked. "And then your lips just accidentally collided?"
More laughter.
Jenny, wearing a far-too-tight top, rolled her eyes dramatically and sprayed even more perfume under her arms. "As if. Tamara? With him?" She snorted.
"I saw it!" Lukas shouted from the back while Basti cackled. "They kissed right at the gate! Höhö—little lovebirds!"
Selina frowned slightly. "Maybe… they just like each other."
Adrian added coolly, "Or she's bored. Noble girls get bored."
Katie smiled thinly. "Interesting. I wouldn't have thought Tamara so… grounded." Her eyes glittered mockingly.
Marion wished the floor would swallow him.
Every laugh felt like a needle.
Tobia beamed proudly. "Let him have this! He did it!"
"Half of them think he's dreaming," Rico snorted.
"And the other half," Manuel said flatly, "is waiting for him to fall on his face."
An uneasy silence followed.
Marion stared at his hands.
Why does happiness feel like a trap?
The Courage Kiss
After class, the students poured into the hallway, voices buzzing.
Marion walked with lowered shoulders, eyes burning into his back.
Then—
A hand touched his arm.
"Marion."
Tamara stood there, serious but calm.
Before he could speak, she pulled him gently aside.
"They're talking," he began.
She interrupted him with a kiss.
Not shy. Not fleeting.
Open. Clear. In full view of half the hallway.
A wave of noise followed—whistles, laughter, "Höhö! Get a room!"—but for Marion, the world went silent.
When she pulled back, she looked him straight in the eyes.
"Let them talk. You're with me. That's enough."
He struggled to breathe. "But I'm just—"
"Quiet." She pressed a finger to his lips, smiling softly. "You are more than they see."
Then she took his hand.
Right there in the corridor.
In front of everyone.
"Come," she said.
And they walked away together.
From that day on, it was official.
Marion and Tamara.
For some, a scandal. For others, a fairy tale.
For Marion—
It was the first time in his life he truly felt seen.