“Hmm, the left one.”

Cyrus pointed to appetizing meat and fish, one of each. After considering briefly, Cecil pointed to the meat on the left, and Cyrus placed the plate of meat on the tray.

Only after gathering warm bread and butter for his brother did Cyrus put his own portion on the tray. As Cecil watched this unconscious behavior with an indescribable feeling, Alesia, who was already seated at a table, raised her arm high. Unfamiliar faces were sitting next to her.

“Cyrus! Cecil! Over here!”

“Those are unfamiliar faces. Who are they?”

“Just people I met in passing.”

The phrase “met in passing” amused Cecil. True to his sociable nature, Cecil burst into laughter, and the two students greeted them cheerfully, introducing themselves. As it turned out, the two were students one year ahead who had become acquainted after frequently passing each other in the hallway.

Their names were Anna and Peyton. They appeared to be childhood friends. Anna, who seemed to have a bright personality, suddenly asked Cecil and Cyrus:

“So you two share a room?”

“Yes.”

“That’s nice. Siblings sharing a room.”

“Well, it’s fine.”

“I’ve seen you two often. You really get along well. You don’t fight much, do you?”

“No, we fight when we need to.”

As Cecil shook his head and laughed, Anna playfully dismissed his comment with an “Oh, come on.” Meanwhile, Cyrus remained focused on his meal, even as his brother and sister engaged in conversation.

“Cyrus seems to be the quiet type.”

“He is a bit taciturn. He’s like this at home too.”

Peyton asked, seemingly uncomfortable with Cyrus’s silence. It made sense—they had been conversing for twenty minutes, but Cyrus hadn’t said a word. Though he generally disliked talking with others, today his silence seemed particularly severe.

As Cecil smiled awkwardly, Alesia gestured casually with her chin, indicating that it was fine and they should continue eating.

Soon, various topics of conversation emerged at the table without interruption. From the literature professor’s baldness incident to the story of the swordsmanship professor receiving a confession from a student at his age and being extremely embarrassed—the laughter didn’t stop.

“The professor received a confession?”

“Yes. Apparently, the student asked him to accept after graduation.”

“So what happened?”

“What do you think? The student received drills until they came to their senses.”

Alesia let out a hearty laugh.

“Being confined in the academy must make some students see professors as potential romantic partners. But have you two received any confessions? I bet you’ve had many.”

“I’ve had more than enough.”

Always confident, Alesia proudly puffed out her chest. The students nodded, apparently expecting this response, and turned their attention to Cecil.

“Cecil, what about you?”

Caught off guard by the sudden question, Cecil unconsciously glanced at Cyrus. Though he hadn’t received a confession yet, he had heard from close male friends several times that someone liked him. And he might receive a confession today. But Cecil shook his head with a faint smile.

“I haven’t.”

“That’s a lie! I can’t believe you haven’t! Stories about you have spread even to our year!”

“Stories about me?”

“Are you pretending not to know? The girls watch you so closely! I hear about you at least once a day.”

“Ah… I didn’t know.”

He never thought he was unpopular, but he didn’t realize rumors were circulating. As Cecil’s ears turned bright red, everyone burst into laughter. At that moment, Cyrus put down the fork he had been poking at his food with and rested his chin on his hand.

“Why not? Brother is very popular.”

As Cyrus, who had been silent the entire time, suddenly spoke up, everyone turned curious gazes toward the two. Cecil licked his lips, uncomfortable with the sudden attention.

“What popularity…”

“Why not? The rumors are no joke. They say you’re kind, pretty, good at studying, and have a great personality.”

“How do you know all that?”

“I hear it even when I try not to.”

Cyrus casually leaned back in his chair and draped his arm over Cecil’s chair back. Cecil felt the touch of Cyrus’s hand on his forearm. Though Cecil flinched at the ticklish sensation, Cyrus, always attentive to his brother’s reactions, simply left his hand there.

“Cyrus, how does it feel to have a brother like this?”

“Good.”

The straightforward answer came. As Cyrus, who had been quiet throughout, opened his mouth, Peyton excitedly continued the conversation.

“Cyrus must really like his brother. He starts talking when the topic is about his brother.”

At those words, a momentary silence passed over the table, noticeable only to Cecil. But the silence seemed to vanish quickly when Cyrus nodded.

“Yes, I like him.”

As he finished speaking, Cyrus’s arm slipped from the chair back, lightly brushing Cecil’s forearm. Cecil’s shoulders jerked.

“If you’re done eating, let’s go, brother.”

“Oh, okay.”

With his arm being pulled, Cecil hurriedly picked up his tray and said goodbye to the three, saying he’d see them again, before standing up. Cyrus seemed completely unfazed. He might have been upset, or maybe not.

Feeling awkward, Cecil walked a step apart from Cyrus until they neared the dormitory. Swallowing hard, Cecil called out to Cyrus.

“I think I left something at the dining hall.”

“At the dining hall? I’ll go with you, then.”

“No. I’ll go by myself. You go ahead.”

Cecil shook his head and smiled reassuringly. His heart felt ready to burst. It was the first time he had lied so blatantly to his brother. Though it was summer, the sun was still bright in the evening, illuminating one side of Cyrus’s face. Cyrus stared at Cecil for a while before shrugging.

“Alright, then.”

“Yeah, see you later.”

Cecil, secretly sighing in relief, turned around, pretending to head back to the dining hall. There were still about ten minutes until eight o’clock. Cecil walked to the back of the training hall, leaned against the wall almost collapsing, and took a deep breath. His heart was still pounding, and as he closed his eyes to enjoy the quiet evening air, he heard a rustling sound.

“What are you doing?”

It was Ellen. She was dressed in casual clothes and smiling brightly. Cecil straightened up from his half-collapsed posture.

“Nothing. Just taking a break.”

“Was training very tiring earlier?”

“Just a little?”

A clear laugh was heard. Ellen made a humming sound and fidgeted with her hands. It created a different atmosphere from her usually confident and bold demeanor. Cecil, feeling nervous alongside her, wiped his sweaty palms on his pants.

“You know why I called you here, right?”

“Well…”

“I’ll be straightforward. Would you like to go out with me?”

After saying this, Ellen rubbed her cheek in embarrassment. The sunset sky seemed to have stained her cheeks with its beautiful color. As Cecil moved his lips, unsure of how to respond, Ellen spoke first, apparently understanding his thoughts better.

“I know you don’t like me. I mean, I know you don’t have any particular feelings for me. But I’m confident. Confident that I can make you like me. And I don’t think I’d be such a bad girlfriend.”

“I know.”

He truly did know. Rather, it was hard to believe that someone as cheerful and brilliant as Ellen would confess her feelings to him—she was too good for him. If it had been any other male student standing here, they might have happily accepted her request without hesitation.

But Cecil hesitated to answer. He couldn’t understand why. Because of his identity? He had known since childhood that his identity made it difficult for him to marry or date. If that were the case, he should reject her without hesitation. So why was he hesitating?

‘Yes, I like you.’

He suddenly heard Cyrus’s casual response from before. The hands that served food one by one, the habit of naturally pulling out a chair for him to sit. Cecil suddenly felt like bursting into tears. He wanted to run away. From what, he didn’t know.

Ellen, facing him, tried to appear calm, but her fists were tightly clenched. She was probably several times more nervous than Cecil. Cecil, who had been looking down, raised his head.

“Ellen, I…”

Ellen, waiting for his answer, gave a faint smile, ready to hear whatever he had to say.

*

Before he knew it, the sun had set and dusk had fallen. Cecil’s footsteps were heavy as he returned to the dormitory.

‘I’m sorry. I hope you meet someone better than me.’

‘That’s a more cliché rejection than I expected.’

Ellen smiled faintly.

‘Can I ask why you’re rejecting me?’

What had Cecil answered to that question?

‘I don’t think I’m ready yet. Not just for you, but for anyone. I’m not ready. I’m really sorry.’

Ellen briefly held a bitter smile. The distant sky was now turning indigo. After thinking for a moment, she looked straight at Cecil.

‘If you had been ready, would your answer have been different?’

‘…No.’

‘I see… You’re surprisingly honest. I’m learning a new side of you, like this.’

‘…’

‘Can we at least greet each other next time?’

‘Of course. I’d like to ask for that.’

‘Thank you for coming out with me today.’

Though she pretended to be fine, Ellen’s feelings were certainly much more complicated than his own, and Cecil bowed his head. Standing still, not knowing what to do out of guilt, Ellen approached him.

‘Cecil, lift your head. I always liked how you hold your face up straight.’

‘…’

‘Still, keep the handkerchief. Think of it as a memento.’

‘…I will.’

‘Ah, I feel lighter! I was so nervous, but I got rejected just like that. Haha.’

‘…I’m sorry.’

‘I told you not to apologize. Can I go first?’

‘Yes. Go ahead.’

That’s how they parted. It was the first confession Cecil had experienced in his life. He had never imagined making a confession himself, but seeing how difficult it was to reject one, making a confession must be even more challenging. He suddenly found Ellen remarkable. Cecil let out a small sigh and paused for a moment in front of the door he had finally reached.

“…”

An inexplicable tension ran down the back of his neck, and his hands trembled slightly. It was a trembling without a known cause. Cecil gently clenched and unclenched his trembling hands before pushing the door open.

“You’re still awake.”

“It’s not bedtime yet.”

Cyrus was sitting on the bed reading a book. He must have just finished washing up, as water droplets clung to his bangs. A good older brother would offer to dry his hair with a towel, but Cecil only averted his gaze. Then came the sound of a book being firmly closed.

“Did you find it?”