The next morning, soft sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the spacious bedroom. When Esther finally fluttered her eyes open, a bright smile immediately bloomed across her face. To her joy, both of her older sisters were still in bed beside her.

Whether Airam had actually managed to sleep or had simply lain there staring at the wall all night was debatable, however. Yet, it seemed Esther’s past complaints about always waking up in a cold, empty bed had finally reached both of them. It was already well into the morning, the bright daylight signaling that they had likely slept in after talking late into the night.

Despite the cozy atmosphere, a soft sigh escaped Esther’s lips. "I missed it."

She had secretly hoped to wake up early enough to sneak out, watch Ulrich’s morning training routine, and perhaps ask him or rather request something from him. But she had completely missed the timing.

"Missed what?"

Esther flinched. She turned her head to see Hermione resting on her side, her piercing ruby eyes already open and fixed intently on her younger sister.

"U—Um... missed you, big sister!" Esther blurted out.

Not giving Hermione a chance to question the obvious lie, Esther threw herself forward, wrapping her arms securely around her sister in a tight, sudden embrace.

"Hey! Don’t just jump on me like that!" Hermione scolded. But as she looked down at Esther’s beaming face pressed against her shoulder, the haughty facade melted away. A fond smile curled on Hermione’s lips, and she gently patted the girl’s back.

"We should always sleep and wake up together like this," Esther mumbled happily.

"A—Alright, we will see. But for now, can you let go? You are going to strangle me," Hermione muttered, though there was no real bite to her words.

"Right!" Esther giggled, finally pulling back.

She rolled over to find Airam sitting up on the opposite side of the mattress. The eldest sister wore her usual deadpan expression, a look that made it impossible to tell if she had rested for eight hours or hadn’t blinked since midnight. Esther didn’t hesitate for a second.

"Elder sister!" She cheered, throwing herself at Airam next.

Airam caught her more easily than Hermione. She didn’t say a word, but her features visibly softened as she wrapped her arms around her youngest sister, gently stroking Esther’s soft blonde hair.

"Alright, we should hurry up and get ourselves ready," Hermione said, throwing the covers aside and stepping out of bed. "Thankfully, we don’t have any lessons scheduled for today, but Ulrich will surely find a way to annoy us if we dally."

With a flick of her wrist, Hermione walked over to the ornate dressing table, sat down, and picked up a silver-backed brush to tackle her tangled locks. Esther scrambled out of bed and hurried over to join her.

"Do you want me to help you, big sister?" She offered eagerly.

Hermione met her gaze through the mirror’s reflection and offered a soft smile. "Please do. Just don’t tear my hair out."

"I won’t!" Esther promised, happily accepting the brush. "You have the most beautiful hair, big sister. I would never hurt it," she giggled, beginning to run the bristles through the shimmering silver strands with the utmost tenderness.

Airam watched the quiet scene for a moment before silently slipping out of bed.

"I am bathing," she said abruptly, turning toward the door and exiting the room without waiting for a response.

The moment she stepped into the grand corridor, a maid appeared from the shadows, stepping forward as if she had been waiting just out of sight to catch her.

"My Lady, shall I prepare your bath?" The servant asked, bowing her head respectfully.

Airam gave a short, silent nod. The maid quickly curtsied and scurried off toward Airam’s private chambers to draw the hot water.

Left alone in the hallway to wait, Airam rested her hands against the banister, gazing down at the lower floor. She watched the estate servants rushing about their morning duties. It was a boring, repetitive sight.

Raising her hand then, out of idle habit, she flicked her fingers and instantly summoned three glowing runes into the air, manipulating them to dance around her fingertips. She was just about to conjure a fourth when a grip clamped down around her wrist.

Her concentration shattered instantly. The glowing runes flickered and dissolved into thin air.

Airam snapped her head to the side, her eyes widening slightly as she found Ulrich standing right beside her. He had approached without making a single sound. His expression was stern, his icy gaze locked entirely onto hers.

"You do not manipulate runes in my estate," he warned.

"I know what I am doing," Airam said, yanking her arm in a sharp bid to break his hold.

But Ulrich’s grip was immovable against her efforts.

"No, you do not," he replied.

Airam lifted her chin, her dark eyes flashing with a cold light. "I am a Witch."

"And is that supposed to reassure me?" Ulrich asked, his eyes narrowing into two dangerous slits.

She ground her teeth together as she gave another, harder pull against his hand. "Let go of me."

"You will not manipulate runes in this estate," he repeated, emphasizing each word to ensure she understood it.

To Ulrich, her reckless behavior was concerning. A floating rune was not just a spell; it was a blazing beacon, a signature of witchcraft. As long as she was still inexperienced, carelessly weaving such magic in the open was a risk to both herself and everyone beneath his roof. He needed her to understand that outside these walls, a single misplaced rune could mean an execution, especially when the person manipulating was someone like Airam.

Rather than concede, Airam met his glare with equal intensity. "I want a Witch to teach me."

Ulrich actually felt a vein throb faintly at his temple. Was she even processing a single word he said?

"You are not a Witch anymore. You are a noblewoman of this house," he warned. "If you want you and your sisters to survive, you will not casually throw runes around for anyone to see."

"I am a Witch," she insisted. "I have a witch’s blood running through my veins."

"You have no elven blood running through your veins to justify such arrogance," he retorted coldly. "Instead of flaunting what you are not, why don’t you take a lesson from your two younger sisters and devote your efforts to actual, healthy magic?"

"Witchcraft is superior," Airam replied instantly, without a shred of hesitation.

Ulrich had to physically bite the inside of his cheek to suppress a harsh sneer. "For killing and destroying? Yes, it is."

"To protect," she glared.

That single word brought Ulrich to a dead halt. He stared down at the eldest sister, a complicated storm of apprehension behind his mask.

His goal had been to prevent Airam from evolving into the terrifying, merciless monster depicted in the novel he knew so well. He feared that if she continued to sink into the chaotic depths of witchcraft, the magic would eventually twist her into that exact villainess. If that timeline came to pass, she would become an insurmountable threat to everyone around her.

This was why he had felt so much quiet relief when Hermione and Esther had gravitated toward orthodox, ordinary magic. But Airam was stubbornly clinging to her heritage. It was glaringly obvious now that she had no intention of abandoning witchcraft for traditional spells.

Realizing that arguing ideology with her in a public corridor was a waste of breath, Ulrich tightened his grip just a fraction before delivering his final ultimatum. "You do not manipulate runes here. Am I understood?"

Airam held his gaze for a long moment. Finally, she offered an almost imperceptible nod.

Only then did Ulrich release her. She snatched her arm back instantly, rubbing her wrist where his fingers had left temporary white marks against her pale skin.

"Lady Airam, your bath is..." The maid’s voice trailed off into a terrified squeak as she rounded the corner and suddenly realized the imposing Lord of the estate was standing right there.

Ignoring the trembling servant completely, Airam shot Ulrich one last, lingering glare before turning on her heel and marching silently down the hall.

Ulrich stared at her retreating figure for a long moment before slowly turning his gaze toward the open doorway. Through it, he could clearly see Hermione and Esther inside the room.

Hermione sat in the chair before the ornate dressing table, her back straight. Esther stood behind her, the hairbrush frozen mid-stroke against Hermione’s silver locks, as if time itself had halted. Both women looked startled, caught in a private moment they clearly hadn’t intended for him to witness.

"....."

"....."

"....."

Silence stretched between them. Then Hermione jolted into motion. She sprang from her seat, nearly stumbling over the legs of the chair in her haste, and rushed toward the door. With a swift push, she slammed it shut with a resounding thud that echoed down the corridor.

Thud!!

Ulrich’s brows furrowed in irritation at the loud noise. He lingered for a brief second, staring at the now-closed door, before turning on his heel and striding away.