Forbidden Desires: Conquering Kingdoms And Women In a Fantasy World!

"Harold... finally," Rumia whispered, her voice thick with emotion as she gazed down at me. "I've been waiting for this moment for so long."

"Rumia," I replied, unable to suppress a smile despite our rather undignified position on the classroom floor. "It has indeed been quite a while."

The entire lecture hall had fallen silent, every student craning their necks to witness this unexpected reunion. I could practically feel the weight of their collective curiosity pressing down on us, along with what I suspected were some rather intense emotions from the female portion of our audience who had been admiring me just moments before.

This was certainly not how I had envisioned my first day at Erestia Academy beginning.

I released a long breath. The hall had grown uncomfortably quiet around us, a lot of curious eyes tracking every movement, every word exchanged between Rumia and myself. This was exactly what I had hoped to avoid on my first day.

Rumia's blue eyes held mine with a lot of intensity. She leaned forward slowly her lips parting slightly as her gaze dropped to my mouth. The intention was crystal clear—she was going to kiss me right here, in front of half the academy's student body. I could practically hear the gossip mill grinding to life around us.

Without hesitation, I raised my hand and gently but firmly covered her mouth, my palm warm against her soft lips. Her eyes widened in surprise.

"Please," I said quietly. "It's just my first day here. Let me rest and get my bearings before your problematic fiancé learns that you kissed me in front of everyone." I held her gaze steadily, hoping she could read the sincerity in my expression. "I will deal with him when the time comes, but for now, I need to understand how things work in this place."

The silence stretched between us for several heartbeats. I watched as understanding gradually dawned in Rumia's eyes, though disappointment clearly warred with acceptance on her face. She searched my expression, perhaps looking for something more, before finally—reluctantly—nodding and pulling back.

I stood as well. The simple action gave me a moment to collect myself and scan the room. Sure enough, whispers had already begun to ripple through the nearby tables.

"H...Harold?"

Alicia stood frozen beside me, her composed demeanor completely shattered. Her cheeks had bloomed with a deep rose color that extended down to her delicate neck, and her green eyes were wide with shock at what she had just witnessed.

"Oh, Lady Alicia, please allow me to present Rumia Brennan, my childhood friend," I said, gesturing between them with formality.

"Lady Alicia?" Rumia's voice carried a sharp edge that could have cut glass. She crossed her arms over her chest, her posture shifting into something distinctly territorial.

I kept my expression neutral. "I am currently working under her father, Viscount Lindow, and here at the academy, I serve as her attendant," I explained carefully.

Rumia's expression shifted from suspicion to thoughtful calculation. "I see," she murmured. "Is that how you managed to secure entry to the academy?"

"Yes," I confirmed with a simple nod.

"Oh, so you're Harold!"

"Rumia's childhood friend—I remember now! We met you three years ago at the summer market, didn't we?"

Two voices chimed in from behind Rumia as her companions finally approached. I recognized them immediately, though they had both grown considerably more elegant since our last encounter. The years had been kind to them, transforming the giggling girls I remembered into poised young ladies.

"Lucy and Regina, if I remember correctly?" I asked, offering them a warm smile.

"Y...yes!" Lucy stammered, her hands fluttering nervously at her sides.

"You do remember us," Regina added, her voice soft with pleased surprise.

Both girls seemed genuinely delighted that I had recalled their names, though I noticed how they quickly averted their gazes when I looked directly at them, twin blushes painting their cheeks. It was a reaction I was becoming all too familiar with, and one that clearly didn't escape Rumia's notice. Her jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.

I needed to extract myself from this situation before it escalated further.

"Well, I should—" I began, taking a half-step toward where Alicia waited.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" Rumia's hand shot out, her fingers wrapping around my forearm with surprising strength. Her lower lip jutted out in a pout. "Sit with me, Hal. We have so much to catch up on."

I felt the eyes of the entire dining hall boring into us once again. This was spiraling out of control faster than I had anticipated. "For now, I have my duties to Lady Alicia," I said firmly but gently, hoping to appeal to her sense of propriety.

Rumia's grip tightened for a moment, her nails pressing against the fabric of my sleeve. I could see the internal struggle playing out across her features—desire warring with understanding, selfishness battling with acceptance. Finally, with visible effort, her fingers loosened and fell away from my arm.

"Okay..." She said.

I watched as she rejoined Lucy and Regina, the three of them settling at a table several rows away. Even from this distance, I could see Rumia casting glances in my direction, her friends leaning in to whisper what were undoubtedly questions about our reunion.

Relief flooded through me as I guided Alicia to a pair of seats in the middle section of the classroom, far enough from Rumia to avoid immediate complications but not so far as to seem deliberately dismissive. As we settled into our chairs, I could feel Alicia's curious gaze upon me.

"You seem quite close to her," she said maybe curiously.

"I am," I confirmed simply. "She's been part of my life since we were children. We practically grew up together."

I could see more questions forming behind Alicia's eyes, but before she could voice them, the atmosphere in the room shifted dramatically. Conversations died mid-sentence, and every head turned toward the front of the classroom as our instructor made her entrance.

She was, without question, absolutely stunning. My breath caught involuntarily as I took in her appearance—she looked to be in her early twenties, with lustrous light blue hair that caught the morning sunlight streaming through the tall windows, and sharp silver eyes that seemed to see straight through to one's soul. Everything about her, from her confident stride to her perfectly tailored robes, spoke of competence and authority. She was exactly my type, and fallen squarely within what I considered the perfect age range.

"First of all, congratulations to everyone present here today," she began, her voice carrying easily through the spacious classroom without seeming to strain. Her gaze swept across the assembled students, pausing briefly on various faces as if cataloging each one. "If you are sitting in this room, it means you have been selected as among the finest magical talents in all of Lorendia Kingdom. I sincerely hope you will conduct yourselves accordingly and approach your studies with the seriousness they deserve."

She paused, allowing her words to sink in before continuing. "I am Professor Kristina Bluenote, and I will serve as your primary instructor throughout this academic year. This means that any personal problems, academic concerns, or disciplinary issues will be brought to me first—not to other faculty members." Her silver eyes glinted with something that might have been amusement. "I will be teaching you magical theory, a subject that encompasses not only this year's curriculum but extends to upper-year courses as well. However, you will also be required to select specialized classes with other instructors based on your particular elemental affinities."

My interest sharpened. This was important information.

"Those of you with water or ice magic affinities will have the privilege of joining my advanced specialization course," she continued.

So I will have her as my specialised teacher.

"Now then," she said briskly, clapping her hands together, "let's not waste precious time with further preliminaries. We begin immediately."

Without any visible gesture or incantation, thick leather-bound textbooks materialized on each of our desks with soft thuds. The sudden appearance of the books drew gasps and murmurs of appreciation from several students.

"Today we will begin our study of the ten fundamental spells within each elemental category," she announced, moving to stand behind her lectern with fluid grace. "Now, before any of you tune out because you think magic outside your affinity is irrelevant to your future success, let me disabuse you of that notion immediately." Her voice took on a harder edge. "What matters most is not just mastering your chosen specialty, but understanding as broad a range of magical applications as possible. When you face multiple opponents in real combat situations, knowledge of your enemies' capabilities and their inherent weaknesses could very well mean the difference between life and death."

She wasn't wrong.

"Everyone please turn to the first page," she instructed.

The rustle of turning pages filled the air as we all complied. There, illustrated with detailed diagrams and precise notation, was our first subject of study.

"Fireball Magic," she announced. "A fundamental spell, and an excellent place to begin our journey."

And so began what would prove to be the longest three hours of recent memory. We methodically worked our way through spell after spell, Professor Bluenote explaining not just the mechanics of each magical technique, but their tactical applications, their energy requirements, their potential counters, and their most common variations. Her teaching style was thorough to the point of being exhaustive, leaving no detail unexplored.

By the time she finally dismissed the class, the exhaustion was palpable. Students slumped in their chairs, many rubbing their temples or stretching cramped writing hands. Note-taking equipment lay scattered across desks like the aftermath of an academic battlefield.

I, however, felt nothing more than a profound sense of boredom.

Every single spell we had covered today had been familiar territory for me. I had studied these same magical theories when I was five years old. The information was so thoroughly ingrained in my memory that I could probably recite the theoretical frameworks in my sleep.

Still, I had taken careful notes and maintained an appropriately attentive expression throughout the lesson. The last thing I needed was to draw unwanted attention by appearing too knowledgeable or, worse, dismissive of the instruction.

As students began to file out of the classroom, stretching and chatting about the intensity of their first lesson, I remained seated for a moment longer, lost in contemplation of the challenges that lay ahead. The sound of shuffling papers and scraping chairs gradually faded, leaving only the quiet murmur of departing conversations.

"Harold..." Alicia's soft voice broke through my reverie. "I think it's time for lunch."

I glanced up to find her standing beside our desk, her books already neatly gathered in her arms.

"Yes, Lady Alicia," I nodded, rising from my seat and stretching slightly to work out the stiffness from sitting still for so long. As we began making our way toward the door, I found myself curious about her experience. "Did you understand the lesson?" I asked, falling into step beside her.

"Yes, I think so," she replied thoughtfully, though there was a hint of uncertainty in her voice. "There was certainly a lot to remember though. Professor Bluenote doesn't seem to believe in taking things slowly."

A small smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. "Well, it is the kingdom's top academy after all. I suppose they expect us to rise to their standards rather than the other way around."

"Yes, that's true," she said with a light giggle that seemed to dispel some of her earlier tension. "What about you, Harold? Did you find it challenging?"

I considered my response carefully. I couldn't very well admit that the entire lesson had been elementary material for me. "I managed well enough. Isadora prepared me quite thoroughly for academic rigor," I said.

Alicia's expression brightened with understanding. She had met Isadora on several occasions and knew well the woman's reputation for excellence and high expectations. "Of course," she nodded. "I should have expected as much, knowing her standards."

We continued walking through the grand corridor. Students passed by in small groups, their animated discussions about the morning's lessons creating a pleasant background hum.

Suddenly, I felt a firm hand grasp mine and pull with surprising strength. Before I could react, I found myself being dragged sideways into what appeared to be a small side room, the heavy wooden door swinging shut behind me with a decisive thud.

"H...Harold?" I heard Alicia's confused voice from the corridor, muffled now by the closed door.

I turned toward the sound, raising my voice slightly to carry through the wood. "Go ahead to lunch, Alicia. I'll join you shortly."

There was a moment of silence before her response came. "Okay..." she said, though I could hear the bewilderment in her tone. Her footsteps gradually faded as she continued down the corridor, presumably toward the dining hall.

Only then did I turn my attention to my captor.

"What is this place?" I asked, taking in my surroundings with genuine curiosity.

The room was smaller than I had initially thought, lined wall-to-wall with towering bookshelves that reached nearly to the ceiling. Ancient tomes and scholarly texts were crammed into every available space, creating narrow corridors between the stacks. Dust motes danced in the thin shafts of light that managed to penetrate through a single small window set high in the far wall. The air smelled of old parchment, leather bindings, and the particular mustiness that seemed to cling to forgotten knowledge.

"Stop looking around, Hal," Rumia said.

I turned to face her properly and found her standing close enough that I could see the individual flecks of grey in her blue eyes. Her hands had found the front of my shirt, her fingers curling into the fabric with possessive familiarity.

"It's a new shirt," I pointed out with mild amusement, glancing down at where her grip was already creating small wrinkles in the pristine white cotton.

"Three years apart and you're still just as talkative as ever," she said, though her complaint was undermined by the fond smile playing at the corners of her mouth. Her gaze wandered across my features with obvious pleasure, as if she were trying to memorize every detail that might have changed during our separation.

"Says the person who just dragged me into a storage closet to lecture me about talking too much," I replied with a raised eyebrow.

The teasing comment had its intended effect. Rumia's cheeks flushed a delicate pink, and she took a half-step closer, eliminating what little space remained between us. "Then close my mouth," she whispered.

I smiled as I really looked at her—truly looked at her—for the first time since our reunion. The three years of separation had transformed her from the spirited girl I remembered into a genuinely breathtaking young woman. Her features had refined and matured, losing the last traces of childhood softness while retaining all the vivacious energy that had always been uniquely hers. Her blond hair fell in lustrous curly waves around her shoulders, and her figure had developed the graceful curves of the beginning of womanhood.

But it was her lips that truly captured my attention—soft and inviting, with a natural rose tint that seemed to beckon me closer. They were slightly parted now, her breathing shallow with anticipation.

Unable to resist any longer, I leaned down and captured her mouth with mine.

Rumia's eyes fluttered closed immediately, and her grip on my shirt tightened as she pressed herself against me, returning the kiss with a passion that spoke of three years' worth of longing. Her lips were even softer than they appeared, warm and pliant under mine, and when she let out a small, contented sound—"Hmm~"—I felt something deep in my chest respond with an almost painful intensity confirming something.

This girl, Rumia, she was mine.