Chapter 55 : The Velt Family’s Manners
The princess stood to the side of the lectern, the grouping list in her hand.
Her gaze crossed half the classroom and landed precisely on Ryan’s face. Her blue eyes were calm and unreadable, but Ryan clearly saw the faint upward curve of her lips.
It was not an obvious smile.
It was more like confirmation—confirmation of the detail she had just noticed.
Then she turned her head and continued listening as the professor announced the remaining groups.
But Ryan knew.
She had seen it.
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After the groups were finalized, the students began moving toward their assigned laboratory benches.
Ryan walked to Lab Bench Eight. Allen Walker was already there.
The bespectacled boy nodded briefly in greeting, then imdiately began arranging his tools. His movents were ticulous—every item placed in a precise and consistent position.
“I’ll handle preparing the extract,” Allen said, pushing his glasses up his nose. “You handle mixing and temperature control. Any issues?”
“No.”
After that brief exchange, they each began their work.
Ryan went to the materials station and retrieved the necessary ingredients.
The tricolor violet petals were stored in a glass jar—pale purple, their edges already beginning to curl. The silverleaf mint was sealed in a bag, the silver veins in the leaves glinting under the light. The borneol powder was contained in a small porcelain vial, the fine powder giving off a sharp, cooling scent.
He began weighing the ingredients.
The scale needle trembled slightly before settling on the correct mark. Each portion of ingredients was asured down to the milligram—this precision was essential for the stability of the Awakening Potion.
From the corner of his eye, he glanced toward Cecilia’s group.
The princess and Ilis had clearly divided the work between them.
Cecilia handled the ingredient preparation. Her movents were as precise as machinery: the angle at which she cut the petals, the pressure used when grinding the mint, the slight adjustnts of her fingers when weighing ingredients—every detail was flawless.
Ilis handled the equipnt and records. Her violet eyes remained fixed on the thermoter and sand tir, writing down asurents every thirty seconds.
Students at nearby benches occasionally glanced over.
So looked envious.
Others whispered among themselves.
“…Did you see that? Even the way Her Highness processes ingredients is elegant…”
“That attendant isn’t simple either. Her data recording is really professional…”
“I heard Her Highness had a private potion tutor in the palace…”
The whispers buzzed through the classroom like tiny insects.
Ryan withdrew his gaze and focused on his own task.
He poured the asured violet petals into a mortar, added the solvent, and began grinding. The pestle scraped rhythmically against the bowl, producing a soft grinding sound as the petals broke down into a deep purple paste.
Temperature control was crucial.
The Awakening Potion had to be mixed at a constant sixty-five degrees, with an allowable deviation of no more than three degrees.
Ryan adjusted the fla beneath the alcohol burner, stabilizing the temperature of the water bath. Steam rose along the rim of the pot and condensed into small droplets in the air.
Allen handed him the prepared silverleaf mint extract.
The pale green liquid swayed gently in the test tube, releasing a refreshing scent.
“I’ve tested the purity. It passes,” Allen said.
Ryan nodded and took the tube.
He slowly poured the two liquids together while stirring steadily with a glass rod.
The deep purple and pale green rged, gradually transforming into a strange indigo color.
The final step was adding the borneol powder.
Ryan opened the porcelain vial and scooped up a tiny amount using the finest reagent spoon. The powder glittered faintly in the light, like crushed ice.
Holding his breath, he sprinkled the powder evenly into the mixture.
The mont the powder touched the surface—
“Mr. Velt.”
A voice ca from behind him.
Ryan’s hand did not waver.
The powder fell precisely into the liquid without spilling a single grain. He set down the reagent spoon and turned around.
Cecilia Ishtar stood beside the laboratory bench.
She held an empty beaker, seemingly on her way to rinse it at the public sink. But her position happened to place her directly between Ryan’s bench and the communal area.
“Your Highness.” Ryan inclined his head.
Cecilia’s gaze swept over the indigo liquid in front of him. Her blue eyes lingered on it for a mont before lifting to his face.
“When the groups were announced just now,” she said softly, her voice low enough that only the two of them could hear, “I noticed sothing.”
Her tone was calm.
“But when you realized you weren’t paired with …”
She tilted her head slightly.
“You seed to breathe a sigh of relief.”
She said it casually.
Yet those blue eyes watched Ryan closely, catching every subtle shift in his expression.
Ryan’s face did not change.
“You misunderstand, Your Highness,” he replied calmly. “I was simply relieved to be paired with a reliable partner. Mr. Walker has always been very rigorous when it cos to potion preparation.”
But Cecilia did not look away.
The faint curve of her lips appeared again—though this ti it carried a trace of coldness.
“Is that so?” she said lightly, the final note of her voice lifting slightly.
“Because the sigh you just let out looked rather obvious to .”
Her blue eyes traveled slowly across his face as though evaluating sothing.
“What is it?” she continued softly.
“Is being paired with truly that troubleso?”
Her tone was still gentle.
But the aning behind the words had clearly changed.
Ryan remained silent for a mont.
He saw the hint of coldness deepening in her gaze. He saw the slight tilt of her chin and the impeccable posture of royal dignity.
“I wouldn’t dare,” he said.
“Wouldn’t dare?”
Cecilia’s lips curved again—this ti the arc was clearer, yet colder.
“Did Viscount Velt never teach you,” she said slowly, “that when addressing a mber of the royal family, there are at least certain manners one should observe—”
She paused deliberately, letting her eyes travel across his face.
“—even if they are rely an act.”
The last few words were spoken very softly.
Soft as a feather.
Yet they struck the air like a whip.
Several nearby students had already begun looking over.
Those glances were filled with surprise, curiosity… and growing amusent.
The princess’s words were practically a public reprimand.
Ryan stood where he was, saying nothing.
It wasn’t that he didn’t know how to respond.
It was that he chose not to.
Arguing with a princess in this situation—whether he won or lost—would still an losing.
He understood that perfectly.
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