Chapter 177: What’s Done Is Done

"Please...! Retract your statement, Lady Anastasiya!"

Ilya had barely stepped beyond the gates when the shout stopped him.

He turned and found Mikhail Olegovich Volnograd waiting outside, although the young man standing there looked considerably different from the one they had left behind only recently.

There were still traces of what Anastasiya had done to him across his face, with several of the smaller cuts not yet completely healed, but his physical condition was hardly the first thing Ilya noticed.

Mikhail was groveling.

"Lady Anastasiya, please!"

Meanwhile, Anastasiya, who was right beside Ilya, continued walking.

She did not slow down, turn her head, or give any other indication that she had heard him, continuing toward the carriage waiting outside the gates as though Mikhail were nothing more than an irritating noise coming from somewhere behind her.

Ilya glanced between his sister and the groveling Mikhail before following after her.

At this rate, Anastasiya seemed perfectly content to climb into the carriage and leave without acknowledging their cousin’s existence at all.

Apparently realizing the same thing, Mikhail hurriedly pushed himself back to his feet.

"Lady Anastasiya!"

Nothing.

"Please, just listen to me! I only need a moment!"

Anastasiya kept walking.

Mikhail’s expression turned into desperation before his eyes shifted toward the person walking beside her.

"Cousin Ilya!"

Ilya stopped.

Anastasiya did not.

"Sister."

"Leave the mutt alone."

"...!"

Mikhail flinched.

Ilya looked at his sister’s retreating back, then toward his cousin, before continuing after her.

"C-Cousin Ilya, please."

Mikhail stepped toward him before abruptly stopping, perhaps remembering how their previous conversation had gone.

"I know what I did was wrong!"

Ilya raised an eyebrow.

"I was angry, and I said things I shouldn’t have said. I should’ve stopped everything when I realized how far it had gone, and I should never have allowed other people to become involved because of whatever resentment I had toward you."

Mikhail swallowed, forcing the words out faster as Anastasiya continued farther down the road.

"I’m sorry. Truly, I am! I’ll apologize to everyone involved if that’s what you want, and I’ll do whatever else you ask of me!"

"...."

It was remarkable what the threat of consequences could accomplish in such a short amount of time.

Only recently, Ilya had spent what felt like an eternity trying to explain the concept of accountability to a man who insisted that nothing beyond the rumors could possibly be his responsibility.

Now, apparently, Mikhail had discovered remorse, self-reflection, and the ability to construct a proper apology all at once.

"Ilya, this isn’t the time."

Anastasiya had finally stopped beside the waiting carriage and turned around, her patience already wearing thin as she looked between the two of them.

"If you’re going to entertain the mutt, then at least make him speak quickly. I have classes to attend, and I’m not arriving late because you decided to listen to him beg—"

Mikhail immediately turned toward her.

"Lady Anastasiya, please retract the letter!"

There it was.

Mikhail seemed to realize that he had exposed himself too quickly, but by then there was little point in trying to hide it.

"My father will find out...!"

Anastasiya stared at him.

"He’s going to find out everything..."

Mikhail’s voice dropped, and the fear in it became clear.

"If this reaches the Council with your name attached to it, he’ll be summoned. He’ll have to answer questions about me, about Volnograd, about why his own son is being accused of disgracing the main house, and when he finds out why..."

Anastasiya’s expression did not change.

"Then perhaps you should’ve considered your actions before giving me a reason to write it."

"I know!"

Mikhail’s voice cracked.

"I know, damn it! I know I fucked up, but isn’t this enough? I’ve apologized. Cousin Ilya knows I’m sorry, you already beat the shit out of me, and I swear I’ll never do anything like this again!"

His words became increasingly frantic.

"Just retract the letter, please! Tell them the matter was resolved privately, tell them you reconsidered, tell them anything you want!"

"Ilya, get this pest out of my sight."

"Lady Anastasiya!"

Ilya sighed and stepped between them, placing himself directly in Mikhail’s path before his cousin could get any closer to the carriage.

"You heard her."

"Wait!"

"Mikhail."

"Then you do it...!"

"...What?"

Mikhail spread his arms. "Beat me!"

Ilya stared at him.

Mikhail’s breathing was ragged, and there was enough fear in his eyes to make it obvious that he was completely serious.

"It’s your turn, isn’t it?" Mikhail continued. "You’re the one I wronged in the first place, so go ahead. Beat me until I can’t fucking stand! Break my nose, my ribs, my arms, whatever you want! If you’re still angry about what happened to your friends, then take all of it out on me!"

"...."

"You can beat me half to death if that’s what it takes for you to forgive me. I’ll accept it, and afterward you can tell Lady Anastasiya that the matter has been settled between us!" His eyes darted toward Anastasiya. "Then she can retract the letter, right?!"

Ilya rubbed his forehead.

"You really don’t understand anything, do you?"

"What else do you want from me?!"

"That’s exactly the problem."

Ilya stared at him for another moment before finally turning around. There was no point continuing this conversation when every apology Mikhail offered eventually circled back to the same request, and Ilya had already wasted enough of his morning listening to him beg.

Anastasiya gave Mikhail one final glance before climbing into the carriage, and Ilya followed shortly afterward.

By the time he settled into the seat across from his sister, Mikhail was already rushing toward them again.

"Wait!"

The carriage began to move.

"Cousin Ilya!"

Mikhail followed.

For several seconds, he actually managed to keep pace with the carriage, stumbling alongside it as it moved down the road outside the estate.

His voice grew increasingly desperate as the distance between them widened, yet neither Ilya nor Anastasiya responded.

"Please! Just talk to her!"

Ilya leaned back against his seat.

"Cousin Ilya!"

The carriage continued forward.

"I said I’m sorry!"

His voice became more distant.

"I’ll do anything!"

By the time the carriage had traveled farther down the road leading away from the estate, Mikhail could no longer keep up.

His footsteps slowed until he finally stopped altogether, leaving him standing alone outside the gates as the carriage carrying the two people he had spent the entire morning begging continued farther away.

"Please..."

Neither of them looked back.

Mikhail remained standing there long after there was any reason to, staring at the retreating carriage until his vision became too blurred to properly see it anymore.

He wiped his eyes with his sleeve, only for more tears to replace the ones he had removed.

"Fuck..."

His shoulders trembled.

"Fuck... fuck..."

His legs finally gave out.

Mikhail dropped to his knees in the dirt, and whatever remained of his composure disappeared with them.

He bent forward until both hands pressed against the ground, tears falling freely as he tried and failed to stop the sobs tearing their way out of his throat.

Mikhail finally understood that there was nothing left for him to bargain with.

"I’m sorry..."

His fingers dug into the dirt.

"I’m fucking sorry..."

The guards stationed at the estate exchanged uncomfortable glances before one of the knights finally approached him. Mikhail offered no resistance when the man took him by the arm and pulled him back to his feet.

"Come along, Lord Volnograd."

Mikhail barely seemed to hear him.

The two knights led him away from the gates, his feet dragging against the ground as the remaining guards returned to their posts.

Whatever dignity Mikhail Olegovich Volnograd had arrived with that morning had been left behind in the dirt outside the Belozersky estate.

Farther down the road, the carriage continued toward the academy without stopping.

* * *

"So you’re the new one?"

Later that afternoon, Ilya found himself standing inside one of the academy’s smaller research halls, surrounded by considerably fewer people than he had expected.

Workshops were different from ordinary classes at Holy Trinity Academy.

They were smaller academic groups organized around a professor and a particular area of study, allowing students to involve themselves in research and practical work that would normally fall outside the academy’s regular curriculum.

Membership was voluntary, although that did not necessarily mean anyone could simply walk in and join.

Some workshops welcomed practically anyone willing to dedicate the time, while others required recommendations, examinations, or the personal approval of the professor overseeing them.

Professor Antoine Chastellain’s workshop belonged firmly to the latter category.

Officially, it operated under SkyRune Lab, the research group Antoine had built around subjects that rarely fit comfortably within the academy’s established branches of magical study.

That alone had given Ilya a rough idea of what to expect when he entered, although the actual room was considerably less dramatic than the name might suggest.

There were no mysterious, magical artifacts floating through the air or enormous formations glowing across every wall. But instead, long tables occupied most of the room.

That being said, there were only twelve people inside.

That surprised him more than anything else.

Ilya had expected SkyRune Lab’s reputation to attract considerably more students, but perhaps he should have known better.

A workshop demanding additional hours outside ordinary classes, especially one dealing with research that offered no obvious path toward better combat magic or immediate employment, probably appealed to a very particular kind of person.

Every one of those particular people was currently staring at him.

Ilya looked around.

"Hello..."

Nobody answered for a moment.

Then the young woman standing nearest to him lowered the stack of papers in her hands.

"So you’re the new one?"

"Yes? Ah, yes. I suppose I am."

Her eyes moved over him from head to toe before returning to his face.

"First-year?"

"Yes."

That earned a few more looks from around the room.

Ilya was beginning to suspect that Professor Antoine had neglected to inform them that he was coming.