[Location]: Yggdrasil Academy · Dormitory [Golden Bough] · Room 302
Hathaway reached out to the screaming crystal.
Behind her, she felt the familiar hum of mana. Victoria had raised her hand, ready to cast the [Privacy Barrier] again, perfectly respecting the boundaries of a roommate.
"Wait, Teacher," Hathaway turned around, stopping her. "Don't block it. I... I want to introduce you."
Victoria paused, her hand hovering in mid-air. She raised an elegant eyebrow.
"Are you sure? Family interactions are usually... private. And judging by the volume, potentially hazardous."
"You saved my life this month," Hathaway said earnestly. "If I pass tomorrow, it's 90% your credit. My mothers should thank you."
Victoria lowered her hand. She sat back in her high-backed chair, crossing her legs with the grace of a queen granting an audience.
"Very well. I shall endure the gratitude."
Hathaway tapped the crystal.
BZZZT.
The heavy metal ringtone cut off. The holographic projection flared to life above the desk.
It wasn't a party. It was a domestic disaster zone.
Sitting in the center of the frame, looking exhausted but glamorous in a silk robe, was Anna. She was swirling a glass of cheap wine (poured into an expensive crystal glass to hide the quality).
Behind her, Margaret was pacing back and forth, muttering equations that sounded suspiciously like lottery calculations.
"Hey, survivor," Anna greeted, her voice husky and warm. "You look terrible. Skin and bones. Have you been eating?"
"I'm fine, Mom," Hathaway smiled, her shoulders relaxing. "Just cramming."
"You look like a ghost," Anna sighed, shaking her head. "When you come home, I'm making you eat ten steaks a day. Rare."
Anna shifted the camera angle. "Speaking of coming home... look who's getting impatient."
The camera panned to the Velvet Armchair by the fireplace.
There, swaddled in a mountain of cashmere, sat The Egg.
It was the size of a watermelon, pulsing with life. The runic patterns on the shell were glowing brightly, synchronizing with the heartbeat inside.
"Little Potato!" Hathaway called out softly.
The reaction was instantaneous. As soon as the Egg heard Hathaway's voice, it Violently Wiggled.
Thump. Thump.
The heavy egg rocked back and forth, leaning forward as if trying to roll off the cushion to get closer to the screen.
"Whoa, easy there!" Anna laughed, reaching out to steady the egg. "She does this every time we mention your name."
"The doctor came by this morning," Anna explained, gently stroking the shell. "She says her shell is paper-thin. Her mana is spiking. She's ready to hatch any day now."
"Any day?" Hathaway’s breath hitched. "But... I still have exams. I might miss it."
"She won't let you miss it," Anna said, her eyes soft. "She's stubborn. Just like Margaret. She's holding on."
"Holding on?"
"We haven't named her yet, Hathaway," Anna said quietly. "We have a list, sure. Margaret wants something aggressive like 'Thunder' or 'Valkyrie'. I want something classic. But we decided to wait."
Anna looked into the camera, her expression serious and affectionate.
"You are the Big Sister. In the Old Code, the privilege of Naming belongs to the Firstborn. We are waiting for you to come home. We want you to give her her True Name."
Hathaway felt a lump form in her throat. Her vision blurred.
In her previous life on Earth, she had a younger brother. When he was born, she was pushed to the periphery. The parents fawned over the heir. They named him, they planned his future, and Hathaway was just... the extra mouth to feed. The invisible background character.
She had always feared that a second child meant she would be replaced.
But here?
Margaret was crazy. Anna was chaotic. They were broke.
But they were waiting for her. They were saving the most sacred ritual of a Witch's life—Naming—for her. They weren't replacing her. They were asking her to lead.
"I..." Hathaway’s voice trembled. "I'll be there. I promise."
"Good." Anna smiled. "Then pass that exam. Don't do it for the grades. Do it so you can come home early and stop this Little Potato from rolling into the fireplace."
Hathaway wiped the corner of her eye, sniffing loudly.
She took a deep breath. She stepped aside, revealing the silver-haired figure sitting calmly in the shadows of Room 302.
"Mom, Margaret. I want you to meet my roommate. And my tutor. This is Victoria Wellington."
The effect was instantaneous.
In the background, Margaret stopped pacing. Her head snapped toward the screen like a predator hearing a twig snap.
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"Wellington?!"
Margaret rushed the camera. Her face filled the frame.
Her DNA recognized the hereditary enemy instantly. And in her agitation, her Ludwig Red Eyes flared up.
Unlike Hathaway's mutated eyes, Margaret's eyes were functional biological flashlights. The brightness spiked to 150 Lumens—a tactical strobe light directly into the lens.
"HISS!"
Victoria physically recoiled in her chair, covering her sensitive eyes with her sleeve like a vampire exposed to the sun.
"Light pollution! Dim your lights, you walking lighthouse!"
"A Wellington!" Margaret bared her teeth, oblivious to the pain she was causing. "I can smell the moldy old money from here! Why is my daughter rooming with a Broken Lens?!"
"Are you squinting at me?! Don't you dare squint at a Ludwig!"
Margaret looked at the dark background of Room 302, and her "Mother Bear" instincts exploded.
"It's pitch black in there! It's a crypt! A tomb! Oh my poor baby! No wonder you're so thin! You've been living in a Wellington Grave for a month!"
"Is she feeding you moldy bread?! Is she making you analyze poetry in the dark?! This is abuse! I'm calling the school board! I'm buying the school board!"
"Margaret, shut up!"
Clink.
Anna calmly set her wine glass on the nightstand. Then, she moved.
She grabbed Margaret by the collar of her pajamas and physically hauled her backward, clamping her other hand firmly over her wife's mouth.
"Mmph! Mmmph! (Let me at her! She's turning my daughter into a bat!)"
"Ignore the background noise," Anna said smoothly. She effortlessly shifted her struggling, overpowered wife into a one-armed headlock, freeing up a hand to casually adjust the collar of her own robe.
Anna looked at the screen. Her gaze landed on Victoria, who was elegantly wiping tears from her blinded eyes.
For a brief second, the "Lazy Housewife" vanished entirely, replaced by the true Lady of the House.
"My sincere apologies, Miss Wellington," Anna said, her voice warm, steady, and carrying the perfect weight of aristocratic etiquette. "I am Anna. Hattie's mother. Please forgive Margaret. She gets... overexcited about lighting conditions. We are working on her medication."
Victoria blinked, her vision clearing.
She saw a woman who was maintaining perfect social grace while physically restraining a lunatic.
Victoria straightened in her chair, recognizing a fellow diplomat. She responded with a polite nod.
"It is acceptable, Lady Anna. I am... accustomed to high-energy interactions."
"You are too kind," Anna sighed, a genuine, tired smile touching her lips.
She looked at Victoria, then at Hathaway, who was sitting obediently (and quietly) next to her.
"Hattie told us you've been tutoring her for the A1 Exam," Anna said, her tone filled with honest gratitude. "We know our daughter. She has... 'unique' logic circuits. For you to guide her through the Logic Construction phase in just one month... that must have required the patience of a saint."
"It was... a challenge," Victoria admitted, glancing at Hathaway. "But she is persistent."
"That she is," Anna chuckled.
She swirled her wine glass, her expression shifting to one of genuine hospitality.
"Miss Wellington, we owe you a debt of gratitude. If you ever find the dormitory too stifling, or if you simply wish to escape the noise of the academy... Please, feel free to visit our estate in District 1. It is just a modest 400 acres, but it is quiet."
"We have an excellent library," Anna added, hitting the exact point that would appeal to a Wellington. "And unlike the Academy dorms, our wine cellar is open 24/7. I have a bottle of 'Starsong' vintage that I think you would appreciate."
It was a proper, dignified invitation between equals.
"That is... very generous of you," Victoria said, her stiff posture relaxing slightly.
She felt respected. Not assessed, but thanked.
"I may take you up on that offer. The dormitory tea is indeed... lacking."
"Wonderful." Anna raised her glass in a toast. "Good luck with the exam, Hattie."
She then turned her gaze to Victoria, her smile softening into genuine appreciation. It wasn't a wish for luck; it was a salute to a weary commander.
"And Miss Wellington... try to get some rest. You look like you need it more than she does."
"I intend to," Victoria replied, raising her tea cup in return.
Then, seeing Margaret about to break free from the headlock—
"Hattie, hang up now," Anna commanded with a smile. "Before your other mother starts biting."
"Yes, Mom! Bye!"
Click.
Hathaway slammed the connection shut. The hologram vanished.
The room was silent. Hathaway stood there, her face burning. She didn't dare turn around.
"I am so sorry," Hathaway groaned into her hands. "Margaret is insane. I hope she didn't permanently damage your retinas."
"Your family..." Victoria’s voice floated from behind. It was dry, cool, but surprisingly thoughtful. "...is balanced."
"Margaret is the chaos engine. Loud. Bright. Unfiltered." Victoria paused, tapping her finger on the desk. "But your mother, Anna... she is the Control Rod. She apologized with perfect etiquette, offered a culturally appropriate gift (wine and books), and suppressed a hostile entity—all without spilling her drink."
Victoria picked up her tea, looking at the empty air where the hologram had been with a hint of respect.
"She is... reasonable. For a Ludwig, she is surprisingly civilized."
Hathaway let out a nervous laugh, slumping into her chair. "Yeah. Civilized. Let's go with that."
"Now. We are done for the day." Victoria placed her cup down. The "Social Mode" disengaged. "Your brain needs to defragment before—"
Buzz.
Buzz.
The crystal on the armrest pulsed.
It wasn't a chaotic ringtone. It was a low, rhythmic thrumming, like the heartbeat of an antique clock.
Deep Purple Light.
Caller: [Cecilia]
Hathaway froze.
The name on the screen hit her harder than any spell.
Cecilia.
A cold, heavy sensation settled in Hathaway's stomach. She remembered. She remembered exactly how she had used this name to pry open Victoria's defenses a month ago.
A month ago. To provoke Victoria into teaching her, I looked her in the eye and lied.
I claimed that Rhode said: "Victoria is just a cheaper copy of that Failure of an Heir."
That sentence was the key. It was the dagger she twisted to make Victoria angry enough to care. And it was a Perfect Lie.
Hathaway knew her cousin. If Victoria ever confronted Rhode about it, the Golden Lion would probably just sneer and say: "I don't remember saying it, but it sounds like something I would say. So what?"
Rhode's arrogance was the perfect shield. The lie would never be exposed.
I am safe, Hathaway thought, staring at the purple light. My manipulation is flawless.
But looking at Victoria now... I realize I played a very dangerous game. I used the name of the Wellington Heir as a cheap bargaining chip. If Victoria had ever seen through me... I wouldn't be sitting here. I'd be ashes.
While Hathaway was gripped by a gambler's sudden cold sweat, Victoria reacted.
She froze.
The calm composure she had maintained even while being flashbanged vanished instantly. She sat up straighter, instinctively fixing her collar and smoothing a non-existent wrinkle on her skirt. The "Demon Tutor" vanished; a "Little Sister" appeared in her place.
She raised her hand.
Her long, slender fingers began to trace the complex rune for the [Privacy Barrier].
Right, Hathaway thought, watching the mana gather. Block me out. This is a Wellington family call. I am an outsider. I am a Ludwig..
But then, Victoria paused.
The blue rune hovered in mid-air, spinning silently. Victoria didn't activate it immediately.
Instead, she turned her head and looked at Hathaway. Her blue eyes were unfocused, but Hathaway felt the weight of her gaze.
It wasn't a look of suspicion. It was a look of Reciprocity.
She is thinking about what just happened, Hathaway realized. I just introduced her to my mother and Margaret. I let her see the chaos of the Ludwig family. So now... she thinks it's only fair to let me see hers.
Fairness. Trust for Trust.
Victoria sighed softly.
The tension in her shoulders relaxed. She lowered her hand. The [Privacy Barrier] dissipated into sparks of harmless blue light.
She decided to leave the door open.
To Hathaway, that dissipating blue light felt heavier than a mountain.
Don't. Hathaway screamed internally, her fingers gripping the fabric of her skirt.
Don't give me this 'Fairness'. It's not a fair trade, Victoria! I showed you my family because I'm proud of them. But I approached you with a lie about your sister. This isn't an equal exchange.
But Victoria didn't hear the internal monologue. She only saw her roommate. Her friend who had just shared her own private world.
"Stay quiet, Hathaway," Victoria whispered. Her voice was soft, almost obedient.
It wasn't a command to a subordinate; it was a request to a friend she trusted enough to let into her sanctuary.
"And please... be normal."
She tapped the crystal.
Connection Established.