Chapter 37: ༺Definition of a Sweet Man [2]༻
The garden of Velorian Imperial Academy was quiet, but around there was the faint rustling of leaves and the trickling water of a marble fountain.
Phoebe sat alone at a round, pristine white table.
Two chairs had been placed across from one another, and she occupied one of them, her back straight, her hands folded together on her lap.
The chair opposite remained empty or rather waiting for someone to take it.
She had come all this way from the Imperial Security Department.
For one person.
Her red hair was tied neatly in a bun, and her clear blue eyes darted toward the main path.
A figure approached the table...broad shoulders, measured steps, his shadow stretching long across the stone tiles.
Black shirt. Dark blue tie. A vest and blazer in matching dark navy, tailored perfectly. Dark trousers. Black gloves tugged tight as if they were a part of him.
"Heard you were looking for me..."
His low voice cut through the silence as he stopped before her.
Phoebe’s lips curled faintly.
"Please, take a seat."
He didn’t move immediately, his gaze lingering on her for a few seconds too long, as though weighing her intent.
Finally, he pulled out the chair, the faint scrape of wood against stone echoing in the garden, and sat down.
For a moment, neither spoke.
The wind carried the faint scent of roses from the flowerbeds.
Then Phoebe began.
"...The results of the extended investigation from the Divine Chapel of Gresha are back."
Noel’s brow moved slightly, but he said nothing.
She continued, pulling a folded parchment from her bag and laying it on the table.
"Among the materials recovered from Brother Elian’s office, we found...let me see..."
She scanned the notes.
"...ashen powder of Umbral Root, fragments of a blood-dyed cloth, lunar salt, and three ivory discs engraved with glyphs."
Her fingers tapped lightly on the parchment as she listed each one.
"But the most curious..."
She said, lowering her voice.
"...was a small glass vial. It contained a golden liquid."
Noel’s eyes sharpened.
Phoebe met his gaze.
"The Holy Church of Lumina confirmed it.
It’s a ritual medium. Said to manifest a fallen deity known as the Overseer.
A corrupted off-branch of the Sun God."
The moment the words left her lips, Noel’s memory burned.
Brother Elian stumbling while moving hurriedly in his office and proceeding to pour the golden liquid into a bowl with the other materials. And him proceeding to whisper a prayer. Then his body swallowed whole by fire, his face contorted not in agony, but ecstasy, as if consumed by divine rapture.
"...I see."
Noel muttered under his breath.
Phoebe exhaled slowly, her expression hardening.
"The Wretched Faith have their own personal vendetta and motives against the Holy Empire, yes...but they don’t worship fallen gods.
Certainly not the Overseer.
This ritual item... it must have come from another group entirely."
At her words, Noel’s thoughts stirred.
Another organization...? Is she... talking about the Black Pilgrimage?
He clenched his jaw but kept silent. The original Noel had was actually a member. But revealing that here would be reckless.
Noel leaned back slightly, folding his arms. He let the silence drag long before speaking.
"I know you didn’t come all this way just to deliver what you could’ve sent by letter...or even give me a call."
His voice was calm, but heavy.
"So what’s your true reason for visiting me?"
Phoebe’s heart skipped.
She stared at him for a moment.
That unshakable tone. That unchanging gaze.
’He hasn’t changed at all,’ she thought bitterly.
Her chest tightened, and her mind drifted to memories she had buried.
The office, late at night, when reports were scattered everywhere, and he had stayed behind instead of resting. She had kissed him once, lips trembling, words spilling out during her confession.
She remembered the silence that followed and his unreadable expression.
She remembered the stolen moments...sharing coffee, exchanging remarks only they could laugh at, the way he had sometimes let his guard down around her.
Just enough for her to feel seen.
But did he even remember? Or had he chosen to forget?
’Does he even remember those nights? My confession? Or did he just shut it down?’
Her throat burned.
’Is that why the distance keeps growing?’
She had felt alive with him. Seen. But now... she was slipping back into her shell, suffocated by the silence he always carried with him.
’And with all honesty...I miss it...I miss what we had...Even if it wasn’t... even if it wasn’t a real relationship.
I still miss it...
...I miss...him.’
Her eyes grew wet, but she forced the tears back, biting down on the inside of her cheek.
’But I can’t say that now can I?...’
Her fingers fumbled inside her coat pocket until they found what she had brought. Slowly, she drew it out.
A small, black key rested in her palm.
She stretched out her hand, opening her fingers to reveal it.
Noel’s eyes flickered the moment he saw it.
"...This is the key to my research room. In my office."
His tone was sharper now.
"How did you come to possess it?"
Phoebe’s voice was quiet, steady, though her chest ached.
"One of my assistants found it when she had been assigned to tidy up your office while your personal aide, Claire, was absent. She realized the key didn’t belong to any of our rooms in the ISD, so she brought it to me."
Noel reached out, took the key carefully, and closed his hand around it.
Silence again.
Then, his lips parted.
"...Thank you."
Two simple words.
Phoebe blinked. Of all the things she had expected, she hadn’t thought she would hear gratitude from him.
Her chest tightened all over again...but this time, for another reason.
The fountain continued to trickle behind them. Neither moved to rise, nor speak further. Yet the unspoken words between them weighed heavier than any investigation could.
Phoebe lowered her gaze, forcing composure back into her face. She had come here with questions about faith, heresy, enemies of the Empire.
But what lingered in her heart had nothing to do with any of that.
The drizzle had only just begun, faint droplets kissing the marble tiles of the academy garden.
Phoebe, rising from her chair, accidentally knocked the pristine white table. The small honey bowl meant for spreading over the bread slices laid out by staff in courtesy of the ISD official’s visit wobbled, tilted, and then launched into the air.
"Ah—"
The golden syrup splattered down onto her beige trench coat in an instant, thick streaks staining the front.
Before Phoebe could even react, Noel had already stood.
With one hand, he pushed the table aside effortlessly, the legs scraping lightly against stone. His other hand slipped into his inner pocket.
A folded white handkerchief appeared.
He said nothing. Not even a sigh.
Phoebe blinked up at him as he lowered himself slightly, handkerchief poised.
His movements were precise.
The fabric pressed softly against the honeyed stain, dabbing instead of rubbing, his knuckles grazing ever so lightly against the curve of her coat. The slow rhythm of his motions made her heart unsteady.
Her blue eyes, wide and uncertain, followed every movement.
’Why... why is he being so careful?’
His fingers adjusted their grip as he worked, thumb pressing at the cloth to absorb the stickiness. From her vantage point, she could see the sharp lines of his jaw, the cool concentration in his eyes. The drizzle above grew heavier, faint droplets slipping into his dark hair.
The garden, the fountain and the table all blurred in the background.
Phoebe’s lips parted, but no words left.
The drizzle deepened.
Noel finished with the front, then stood fully. His gaze lingered for only a moment before he moved behind her.
She stiffened, startled by the sudden nearness.
She felt the light press of his hand against her back.
Phoebe turned her head slightly, shoulders tensing.
"What are you doing?"
Noel’s voice was steady, almost indifferent.
"Take off your trench coat."
Her brows furrowed.
"W-What? No, it’s fine...I’ll just take it off once I return to my office."
"No," Noel said flatly.
"You’ll be walking back through the academy. You don’t want to return with honey smeared on your coat. If you don’t care, then go like that. Doesn’t matter to me."
She bit her lip.
Slowly, she slipped the trench coat off her shoulders, folding it over her arm.
The drizzle pattered harder against her now-exposed blouse.
’He’s still the same. Still caring, even when he acts like he doesn’t.
Maybe I was wrong about him.
Whatever happened with the ISD funds... whatever reasons he had, knowing Noel, it must have been urgent. He doesn’t waste anything without cause.’
Her eyes flickered back up, only to widen when she felt weight on her shoulders.
Noel had removed his dark blue blazer, draping it carefully over her frame. His hand lingered at the collar just a moment, adjusting it so it sat properly.
His words came low, even.
"Since you’re heading back, and it’s drizzling...it might rain soon.
Use this.
Return it to me at my ISD office, or hand it to Claire when she visits."
Phoebe looked at him, the warmth of the blazer sinking into her skin.
"...But what about you? What will you wear?"
"I’ll be teaching indoors. Roofs above me. It isn’t that bad...
Besides, I keep a spare coat in my office here."
Phoebe lowered her gaze.
"...Thank you."
She turned, the blazer wrapped around her, and began walking down the stone pathway that led toward the academy’s main building.
The drizzle thickened, blurring the garden into silver streaks.
Behind her, Noel walked the opposite direction, his stride purposeful, heading toward a tall building with a tower emblem etched into its wall...its initials gleaming faintly: MET.
Phoebe rounded a corner, mind heavy with unspoken thoughts.
Only to collide with someone.
"Oh—!"
She stumbled back.
The woman before her steadied herself, bowing slightly.
"Sorry."
Phoebe froze.
White hair, tied into two neat ponytails at the sides...red eyes
The woman hurried off without another word, her steps quickening as the rain intensified.
Phoebe stood there, staring after her, the sound of rainfall drowning her thoughts.
"...I didn’t know she returned to the academy too..."