The Crimson Lily.
A long-established brothel hidden within the capital’s infamous Red Lantern District. Many influential nobles, wealthy merchants, and high-ranking officials came here under the cover of night to indulge in pleasures they would never dare acknowledge in the light of day.
Within these walls, titles, ranks, and political rivalries were momentarily cast aside. It was an open secret throughout the imperial capital.
Everyone knew of the establishment’s existence, yet no one of consequence ever spoke of it openly, for too many powerful names had crossed its threshold over the years.
Ilya headed inside, where a receptionist awaited him.
"Welcome, sir. May I ask whether you have a reservation, or are you here to request the company of one of our ladies?"
"I’m here for Miss Helene Neidhardt."
"Ah, unfortunately, sir, Miss Helene’s schedule is completely occupied this evening, and every one of her appointments has already been confirmed well in advance. Unless you have arranged a prior engagement with her, I’m afraid she is unable to receive any additional guests today."
"Just tell her that I came to see her. That will be enough."
"I... I’m afraid I can’t do that, sir... Miss Helene has instructed us not to disturb her while she is entertaining a guest unless the matter is truly urgent... You’ll have to wait until her current appointments have concluded, or perhaps arrange a reservation for another evening..."
Without another word, Ilya reached into the inner pocket of his coat and withdrew a heavy leather pouch before placing it upon the reception counter.
Judging by the pouch’s weight, the way its seams strained under the burden, and the rich metallic clinking, anyone with experience handling money could tell that it contained a considerable fortune.
"Then I’m here for a counterbid. Is that possible? If the amount is insufficient, then tell me how much the current reservation is worth, and I’ll pay double."
"...."
For the first time since he had entered, the receptionist’s composed expression gave way to genuine surprise.
Her eyes alternated between Ilya and the bulging pouch resting on the counter, momentarily uncertain whether she had heard him correctly.
Counterbids were neither advertised nor encouraged, but among the empire’s highest aristocracy, there had been rare occasions when an existing engagement had been bought out at an absurd premium, provided both the establishment and the patron involved were suitably compensated.
"Sir... the Crimson Lily does not ordinarily conduct its business in that manner. To cancel an existing appointment would require the consent of the patron who reserved Miss Helene’s time, Miss Helene herself, and the house, all of whom would have to be compensated for the inconvenience."
"That isn’t a refusal."
"...No. It isn’t impossible. It is simply... exceedingly uncommon."
"In that case, inform Miss Helene that someone wishes to purchase her entire evening. If she declines, then the matter ends there, and I will leave without complaint. However, if the compensation proves insufficient, she is welcome to name her price, because I find it difficult to believe that even Miss Helene would willingly ignore a sum like this."
The receptionist’s eyes settled upon the pouch once more, and although her years of experience prevented any overt display of astonishment, she could not entirely hide her bewilderment.
Men with wealth were commonplace within the Crimson Lily, but those who treated gold as though it carried little value were almost always the high aristocrats or tycoons whose fortunes were beyond measure.
Whoever this young noble was, he clearly had no intention of haggling over the price.
After several moments of deliberation, she let out an exhale before offering him another graceful bow.
"Very well, sir. I shall personally convey your proposal to Miss Helene, exactly as you have presented it, though I cannot promise that she will accept."
"Yes."
The receptionist inclined her head one final time before carefully lifting the heavy pouch with both hands.
Without another word, she turned and disappeared through a door reserved exclusively for the establishment’s attendants, leaving Ilya alone in the reception hall.
Several minutes passed before the door finally opened once more, and the receptionist returned, her expression more respectful than before.
"...Sir, if you would be so kind as to follow me. Miss Helene has agreed to receive you."
Ilya offered a silent nod and followed after her without another word.
They passed through a series of lavishly decorated hallways before arriving at a private room adorned with the faint fragrance of roses wafting in the air.
After inviting him inside, the receptionist excused herself, informing him that Miss Helene required a few moments to prepare before withdrawing and closing the door behind her.
Left alone, Ilya surveyed the room with an indifferent glance before taking a seat on the edge of the bed.
Everything about the chamber had been clearly arranged to soothe its occupants, from the warm candlelight to the expensive sheets draped over the mattress.
Before long, the door opened once again.
A young woman gracefully entered the room, wearing an elegant ivory set of lingerie trimmed with lace, revealing just enough to remind anyone why men paid fortunes to spend an evening with her.
She gathered the hem of her robe, offered a graceful curtsy, and raised her head with the smile expected of the Crimson Lily’s most sought-after courtesan.
"My deepest apologies for keeping you waiting, my lord," she began. "I have—"
"Helene."
"....."
The smile on her face froze. She raised her eyes to meet his, widening with disbelief as recognition gave way.
"...Ilya?" she whispered. "W-What in the world...? What are you doing here...?"
"I’ve come to purchase your services. That’s what you’re good at now, isn’t it?"
"...."
Helene’s shoulders trembled. She lowered her gaze, biting her lower lip as though trying to force the humiliation back down.
For several long seconds, she remained silent, unable to meet Ilya’s eyes.
"...I’m sorry, sir. But... I’ll have to decline. I think you’ve mistaken me for someone—"
"I paid a considerable sum for tonight. Enough to purchase your entire evening, and enough that no one outside this room will interrupt us unless you ask them to."
"...."
Helene’s lips parted, yet no words came as she realized there was no convenient excuse left for her to hide behind. Whatever conversation he had come for, he had already ensured they would see it through to the end.
"Why didn’t you tell anyone?"
"...What good would that have done?" she murmured.
Ilya remained silent for a second before asking the question that had plagued his thoughts since the moment he learned the truth.
"Did you sleep with Sir Fritz?"
"...."
"...Did you?"
"...I needed the grades," Helene said, her voice trembling. "If I could graduate from the Knight Department... if I could become a knight... then I thought I’d finally have something to bargain with... I thought... maybe then my father would listen to me..."
She paused, swallowing hard before forcing herself to continue.
"But then... Sir Fritz died," she whispered. "After that, the deed came to light, and everything fell apart... The academy tried reaching out to me, saying they wanted to help, but by then the rumors had already begun to spread... I thought... if I disappeared before everyone learned the truth, then perhaps the humiliation would end with me..."
"And you think this is the better solution? You abandoned everything you endured just to end up selling yourself in a place like this...?"
"Then what am I supposed to do?!"
Tears welled in her eyes as fear, shame, and frustration spilled out all at once.
"Tell me what I’m supposed to do, Ilya! Rely on you? Ask for your help? W-Who do you think you are?!"
She took a step backward. The anger in her voice sounded desperate, as though she wanted him to give her an answer she already believed did not exist.
"Y-You have it just as bad as I do with that family of yours! Did you already forget how your deranged sister tried to force you out of the academy? You could barely even save yourself, so how are you supposed to save me?!"
"Come back to the academy."
Helene stared at him in disbelief before letting out a bitter laugh that barely concealed the tears in her eyes.
"And do what?" she asked, shaking her head. "Squander my family’s money all over again? Do you have any idea how much convincing it took before my father finally agreed to let me enroll in the Knight Department? He never believed I belonged there in the first place, and now everything he warned me about has come true!"
She wrapped her arms around herself.
In the first place, none of this would have happened had she not accepted Sir Fritz’s offer. That much was undeniable.
Even so, Ilya could understand the desperation that had driven her into making such a choice, because unlike most people who judged the outcome, he had seen the circumstances that led to it.
Helene’s performance in the Knight Department had never been particularly outstanding. While her written examinations were respectable enough, they were nowhere near exceptional, and her practical evaluations consistently dragged down her overall standing.
Unlike Ilya, who could comfortably remain near the top of the academic rankings through written examinations alone while maintaining average results with the sword, Helene had no such advantage.
She had spent the entire semester teetering on the edge of failure, with every practical examination threatening to become the one that finally forced her out of the academy.
For someone who had struggled so desperately just to earn the opportunity to study there, the thought of returning home in disgrace was enough to cloud even the soundest judgment.
When Sir Fritz, an instructor already known for exploiting students in vulnerable positions, offered her an easy way out, it was hardly surprising that Helene reached for it.
It had been a mistake. A grave one. Yet mistakes born from desperation were often the easiest for outsiders to condemn and the hardest for those living through them to avoid.
And so, an illusion was created.
Helene’s grades became just high enough to avoid scrutiny, just convincing enough to suggest improvement, and just ordinary enough that no one bothered to question them.
She was neither a prodigy nor a complete failure, merely another forgettable first-year trying to survive her first semester, and that very mediocrity allowed the deception to pass unnoticed.
Having long since decided that this conversation was pointless, Helene slowly turned away from him.
She had heard enough, and whatever expectations Ilya still held for her, she no longer had the strength to entertain them as she reached for the door, intending to leave before he could say anything else.
Crackle——!
The instant her fingertips brushed the handle, frost spread across the metal. A layer of ice crawled over her hand before thickening in the blink of an eye, freezing her fingers firmly around the handle and preventing her from moving it, no matter how hard she tried.
Her eyes widened in surprise as she quickly looked back over her shoulder.
Ilya remained seated where he was, one hand casually outstretched in her direction. Wisps of frost emanated from his fingertips, and although his expression remained as calm as ever, there was no mistaking that he was the one responsible for the ice now binding her hand.
"I’ll help you."
"You..."
"Within my capabilities. I’ll help you. So lean on me. We’re friends, aren’t we?"
"...."
But contrary to everything Ilya had expected, Helene let out a bitter laugh.
"Good for you," she said. "You’re a wizard now."
Her gaze slowly drifted toward the frost covering her hand before returning to him.
"Let me guess," she continued with a self-deprecating smile. "You’re really transferring to the Magic Department next semester."
"Helene—"
"Take the hint, Ilya. I already gave up. Rely on you? And then what? Are you going to magically turn me into a competent knight?"
She shook her head slowly, the smile on her face becoming increasingly hollow.
"The academy was never meant for someone like me from the very beginning. I was always the slowest in practical training, always the one struggling to keep up while everyone else moved ahead. Even if none of this had happened, do you really think I would have become a knight worthy of graduating from the academy?"
"...."
"You’re offering me hope because you still think there’s something left to save. But you’re too late. I already threw that future away the moment I accepted Sir Fritz’s offer, and no matter how much you want to help me now, you can’t undo the choices I’ve already made."
Her eyes slowly turned toward the frozen hand trapped against the door.
"So let me go, Ilya," she whispered. "Some things... aren’t meant to be fixed..."