Chapter 3

Today is the end-of-term celebration day, and the college will be holding a grand ball.

Those nobles would dress in their finest attire, flaunting their lineage amidst champagne and waltzes. Freya's "academic conference" was probably just a ball. I know why she lied to me—she'd never taken me to one in all these years.

But I want to see her one last time. To see her smiling, shining under the lights, living in a world I can never reach.

The carriage stopped at the college gate. The bell tolled six times, and the ball officially began.

The main hall was adorned in a magnificent golden light, with a huge magical projection displaying a starry sky on the ceiling. A steam-powered band played a waltz, and nobles in their finest attire danced gracefully.

I hid in the shadow of the pillars on the second floor, peering down through the gaps in the railing. No one noticed me. Perhaps it was simply because… I never belonged here.

I saw her.

Freya stood in the center of the crowd, wearing a deep blue evening gown with an exquisite cut that revealed her fair shoulders. Her long golden hair was styled in an elegant updo, and sapphire earrings dangled from her ears. She was as beautiful as a goddess who had stepped out of a painting.

Theodore stood beside her, dressed in a black tuxedo, his blond hair meticulously combed. He spoke to Freya, and she smiled—a bright and gentle smile.

The band changed to a different dance track. Theodore extended his hand in an inviting gesture. Freya placed his hand in the other's without hesitation.

They walked to the center of the dance floor. The rhythm of a waltz began, Theodore's hand rested on her waist, and her hand on his shoulder. They began to twirl, their skirts tracing graceful arcs in the air. All eyes were on them; several older nobles exchanged meaningful glances, but no one spoke—after all, Professor Ashford's standing in academia was undeniable, and public discussion was not appropriate.

Theodore whispered something, and Freya blushed slightly. She gently pushed him, a gesture tinged with affectionate reproach. He smiled, tightened his grip, and pulled her closer.

I remembered our wedding ten years ago. There was no ball, no waltz, not even a hug. She finished her vows and left, leaving me alone in the empty church.

I've never held her hand while dancing. I've never seen her smile at me like that.

The music ended. Theodore didn't let go of her; instead, he took her hand and led her through the crowd to the terrace at the end of the side corridor. I quietly slipped out from behind the pillars on the second floor, went down the circular staircase to the side corridor on the first floor, and followed them at a distance.

A cool night breeze blew across the terrace. A champagne tower sat beside the marble railing, and Theodore handed her two glasses. She took them and sipped them gently. They stood facing each other, very close. Moonlight bathed her shoulders, and he lowered his head, his lips near her ear.

I walked to the entrance to the terrace.

"Freya".

I called out her name.

She turned around, and the moment she saw me, her smile froze. In her icy blue eyes, first came surprise, then fear, and finally anger.

“Ethan?” She frowned. “What are you doing here?”

The guests who had been chatting on the terrace fell silent and turned their gaze toward us. Several groups of people in the lobby who were closer to the terrace also noticed the commotion and gradually lowered their voices.

I want to see you.

"See me?" She gave an awkward laugh. "Ethan, let's talk about this when we get back—"

“You said you were going to an academic conference,” I interrupted her, “but you were dancing wildly on the dance floor.”

Freya's expression changed. The resentment of having her lie exposed in public surfaced on her face.

“Ethan,” she said in a low, icy voice, “are you questioning me?”

“I just…” My voice trailed off.

"What right do you have to question me?" she raised her voice. "Do I need to report to you where I go and what I do?"

The guests on the terrace watched the spectacle with great interest. Two ladies exchanged a glance and covered their mouths with their fans. Theodore stood to the side, a glass of champagne in his hand, a half-smile playing on his lips, as if watching a comical clown.

“Freya,” I took a deep breath and looked into her eyes, “I only have one question for you.”

"What?"

"In these past ten years," my voice was hoarse, "have you ever... loved me even the slightest bit?"

She froze. The music on the terrace seemed to stop. Everyone held their breath, waiting for her answer.

Freya looked at me, a complex emotion flashing in her eyes—surprise? anger? or…shame? But quickly, those emotions were replaced by coldness.

"Love? Ethan, how dare you talk to me about love here?"

She took a step forward, her voice sharp.

"What do you think you've done? Serving tea and water? Cooking and doing laundry? Organizing manuscripts? For the past ten years, you've been like...like a parasite, clinging to my side! I told you I was busy, but you insisted on showing up! I said I didn't need any help, but you insisted on interfering! Do you know how my colleagues laugh at me? They say I've raised a useless husband!"

"So you really never loved me." I nodded, my expression calm.

"No!" she screamed. "I have never loved you! Never!"

She took a step forward, poking my chest with her finger: "But do you? You say you love me—then prove it to me! You're just a mortal without magic, what can you do for me?! You can't prove your love for me at all!"

I looked at her. That face I had loved for ten years was now distorted like a stranger's.

"roll!"

She was incredibly strong—perhaps from anger, perhaps from magic. She shoved me away violently.

My already weak body lost its balance and I fell heavily onto the marble floor. My skin was scraped and blood was seeping out, but I could no longer feel the pain.

She turned and threw herself into Theodore's arms.

“I’m so sorry, Theodore,” her voice trembled with tears, “I’m so sorry you had to see this…”

Theodore patted her back gently: "It's okay, darling. It's not your fault."

He looked up at me. In his eyes was naked victory and contempt.

The surrounding guests murmured amongst themselves. Some shook their heads, some looked reluctant, but most exchanged knowing glances before silently averting their eyes. An elderly professor frowned at Theodore, hesitated, and ultimately said nothing.

“Alright, alright,” Dean Harrison’s voice rang out as he stepped out from the crowd and clapped his hands. “Please don’t mind this little incident.”

He glanced at me, his expression complex—a mixture of sympathy and helplessness. But he said nothing, only gesturing for the band to continue playing.

The organ resumed playing the waltz. The nobles looked away and continued their conversation, as if nothing had happened.

I struggled to my feet, and without pausing, I turned and walked step by step out onto the terrace, through the hall, and toward the front door.

Despite my body being extremely weak, my steps became lighter and lighter.

I stopped in front of the college fountain.

"Finally." I looked at the empty space, a look of relief on my face. I could finally let go.

She said I couldn't prove my love for her.

I sat on the stone slab by the roadside, looking up at the night sky. She would go home, find the potion of eternity she had always dreamed of concocting, drink it, gain immortality, and continue her life, attending those balls I could never belong to.

The London nights are cold, and my body is becoming increasingly transparent.

"Enjoy the 'bliss' of immortality, Freya..."

I opened my arms and transformed into ether particles, drifting in the night sky.