The morning air was always accompanied by a cool breeze that drifted through the hallways. The sun had barely peeked over the horizon after that long training session, its light dyeing the trees and the main garden a warm orange as if the day was still hesitant to fully awaken. The silence of the dew in the building’s hallway was comforting, but now it was filled with the murmurs of students preparing for the last performance of the festival.
The training had taken longer than I imagined, and I was running late. Not much, just a few seconds, but on a day like today, any delay could be crucial. The last day of the festival was no ordinary day. Not only was it the busiest day, but it was also the most unpredictable. Emotions were running high: joy, nostalgia, anxiety, even though my face showed none of them. Everyone wanted to enjoy it to the fullest, to squeeze every second, every corner of the campus, as if by doing so they could retain a little more of that fleeting sense of freedom that only school festivals could offer.
As we reached the door to our classroom, I gently pushed it open with a little more force than necessary. The interior was subtly lit by a warm, pleasant light, the scent of tea and herbs gently wafting through, filling the surroundings. In the background, against one of the walls decorated with dark fabrics and candlesticks, hung my uniform: the classic butler outfit we had all agreed to wear during the festival. The sa uniform I had carefully folded and hung the night before, making sure it didn’t have a single wrinkle.
I approached without greeting anyone. At that hour, few of us had arrived, and those who were there simply exchanged sleepy glances while I prepared the dishes and utensils, the silver platters, and the candy display cases. I grabbed my uniform with extrely quick hands. I put it on with precise movents: first the white shirt, fresh and quite comfortable, then the fitted black vest, buttoned to the neck; then the short jacket, its cuffs decorated with silver trim. Finally, the white gloves.
When I finished, I tossed my hair back and looked at my reflection in a mirror in the corner. The reflection gave the image of soone different: not the scruffy, carefree student who ran through the halls like a madman to work out at the gym, but an elegant, confident, almost imperturbable figure. It was the image we had to maintain for the hours we would be serving, because this café didn’t just serve pastries and cups of tea. Here, we were selling an illusion: the experience of a noble salon where custors were treated like aristocrats, bows included.
However, even if that was the facade, I couldn’t afford to let my guard down. Today, more than ever, I had to be alert.
I had a clear mission.
The rumors that Alia had beaten a noblewoman started a few days ago; I couldn’t help but feel very tense. The words were vague, barely whispered in the hallways, but they all agreed on one thing, quite malicious.
The other thing that worried was the person planning to harm Erwing. I didn’t know who or how; I only knew it was a demon. I don’t know how he got there or what he did to Erwing that night that traumatized him.
Erwing... that boy had a unique energy. He was the kind of person who, without aning to, lit up everything around him. He had a serene smile, a kind voice, and a sharp intelligence that he used more to help than to show off. His aura of a leading man was impossible to hide, so it was easy for him to attract unwanted attention. Envy, resentnt, even obsessions. And that’s why I had decided, without anyone needing to ask , that I wouldn’t let him out of my sight today. Not for a second.
I turned to the rest of the class as preparations began to take shape. More classmates had already arrived, and the bustle was gentle, contained, but constant. So were discussing sothing new, adding details to the nus, others were reviewing the order of service, others were simply laughing, trying to release a little tension before the doors opened. The atmosphere was different from the first day; there was no longer the excitent of trying sothing new, nor the immaturity to refuse.
"Five minutes until opening!" Erwing shouted. "Rember to keep your voice low, your manners impeccable, and your posture firm! And smile, even if you have to fake it!"
So laughed, easing so of the tension. The comnt wasn’t a joke, but it seed like doing so helped them relax.
I calmly took my position and headed to the door where everyone was. From there, I could see almost the entire room: the tables, the entrance, even part of the outside hallway if I leaned forward slightly. From there, I backed away slightly.
Then I saw him. Erwing had just entered through the back curtains, also dressed in his butler’s uniform, but with his hair still sowhat disheveled, as if he’d run all the way here. Perhaps noticing my sharp gaze, he smiled at , embarrassed. Since he’d always been particular about our appearance, even to the very end, seeing like this made him vulnerable to my attacks. I looked at him for a mont before ignoring it. I understood, however, that he’d been quite busy these past three days.
«Welco to our humble classroom, dear masters," we sang in unison.
***
Finally, the entire shift of waiters and butlers over, I felt calr. I no longer had to wear that butler’s uniform. The classroom was montarily silent for the first ti in hours. The cups we’d used were ready to be thrown away, the tables were cleared away, and we put the desks back in their places. By now, there were hardly any students left in the hall after a hectic day. It was decided to open a little earlier than usual so as not to waste the last day of the festival, and thanks to that, we were also able to close early. As the custors left and the bustle of the halls receded, each and every one of us gradually abandoned our uncomfortable role as servants, but in all of this, even the erwing didn’t forget to thank us, giving a short farewell speech.
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