Terminally-ill Instructor in Romance Fantasy

[The Grand Hall]

Rows of tables lined the wide marble floor, each one neatly draped in the academy's crest-embroidered cloth, with signs indicating the clubs that were either long-established or newly formed.

Students streamed in from every corridor, papers in hand, eyes darting between signs as they whispered to their friends which club to choose.

At one side of the hall, a pair of girls sat at a table stacked with embroidery kits and colored threads.

Grassia, quiet but sharp-eyed, rested her chin on her palm.

Beside her, Lumi sat upright, practically glowing with excitement, her hands folded neatly like a polite assistant waiting to greet customers.

The space in front of their table was… empty.

Professor Melissa arrived not long after, her arms full of rolled-up embroidery cloth, small wooden hoops, and a box of brightly dyed threads.

Her pale hair, tied up neatly, swayed as she moved.

She placed everything down on the table carefully and let out a small breath.

"Thank you both for helping me today."

Melissa said warmly, her white eyebrows arching with relief.

"It's registration day, so things might get busy."

"Yes, Professor."

Lumi answered with a smile.

Grassia only nodded.

Melissa arranged the threads into a neat gradient, as if the order itself would attract students.

She set the registration papers in the center, smoothed the cloth, and took her seat, posture graceful and expectant.

And then.

"Ah, here they come!"

Melissa whispered, her eyes lighting up as a group of three students walked directly toward their table.

She straightened, her lips curving into a welcoming smile.

But just as she opened her mouth to greet them...

The students veered right.

Like a perfect military pivot, the group turned and walked straight to the table beside hers.

Melissa froze, her words stuck in her throat.

"…?"

She blinked, confused, before shaking it off.

It was fine.

Perhaps they had already chosen another club beforehand.

That was totally normal.

A few moments later, another pair of students approached.

Melissa leaned forward slightly, her eyes glowing with anticipation.

"Welcome, would you like-"

They passed right by her.

Straight to the next table.

Melissa's white eyebrows twitched.

"…?"

Grassia coughed into her sleeve, trying not to laugh.

Lumi hummed innocently, her smile still plastered on her face.

Soon, a larger group arrived—five students this time.

Surely, surely at least one would come to the Embroidery & Tailoring Club.

Melissa clasped her hands together, ready to speak...

And watched as all five… turned at the last second.

Every single one of them.

The sound of their excited chatter drifted over.

"Delights Club!"

"I heard they're giving out snacks—look!"

Melissa's head whipped toward the next table, finally taking notice.

Her eyes widened.

The sign on the table read...[Delights Club].

Plates of light snacks...small tarts, slices of bread with honey glaze, delicate little biscuits were neatly arranged at the center, catching the attention of every hungry student that passed.

Behind the table sat two familiar figures.

A brown-haired woman with glasses, looking as polite and diligent as always.

"…Claire?"

Melissa muttered, her brows furrowing.

And beside her, lounging in his chair as if the crowd had nothing to do with him, was a man with slicked-back black hair, golden eyes half-lidded with his usual sleepy expression.

Melissa's frown deepened.

"…Noel."

As if he had heard her, Noel slowly lifted his gaze from the papers he was pretending to scan.

His eyes met hers.

She covered her mouth.

For a second, silence stretched between them, filled only by the chatter of students crowding his table.

Then, with infuriating calmness, Noel raised his right gloved hand in a lazy wave.

"…Hello."

Melissa's jaw tightened.

She stood abruptly, chair scraping against the marble floor, and marched the three steps separating their tables.

Her heels clicked sharply, drawing the attention of a few students who quickly pretended not to stare.

She hissed under her breath.

"Why… did you move your table next to mine?"

Noel blinked at her, unbothered.

"I didn't."

"You—!"

Melissa's voice pitched higher, then lowered when a few students turned curiously.

She leaned closer.

"Don't lie to me...My table was here first."

Noel tilted his head slightly, still in that maddeningly calm tone.

"Your table wasn't here yesterday."

Melissa froze.

"…What?"

"If anyone moved, it was you."

"I've been here since yesterday evening.

You must've picked the spot beside me."

Melissa's face reddened slightly, her frown deepening.

"Ughhh, I did NOT! Why are you always—"

She stopped herself mid-sentence, pressing her lips into a thin line.

The way his golden eyes looked at her, so unbothered and faintly amused, made her want to throw the embroidery hoop at his head.

At Melissa's table, Grassia leaned toward Lumi, her voice a whisper.

"I told you this wouldn't work...

We shouldn't have moved their tables closer."

Lumi clenched her small fist, eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Trust me."

Grassia gave her a flat look.

"…You're too cheerful about this."

"Trust meee," Lumi said again, her grin widening.

Grassia rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath.

"This is going to be a disaster."

Meanwhile, Melissa had crossed her arms, tapping her fingers against her sleeve as she glared down at Noel.

He remained seated, posture relaxed, giving her the occasional look as if to say are you done yet?

Melissa finally said, voice low.

"I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but..."

"Game?"

Noel interrupted, tilting his head lazily.

"I'm just sitting here."

Melissa's nostrils flared.

"You—!"

Behind them, a student whispered.

"Wow… are they fighting? They look like…"

"…like exes."

Another replied, barely stifling a laugh.

Melissa snapped her head toward them, making the students flinch and rush away.

Noel, however, chuckled under his breath.

Melissa froze, staring at him.

"…Did you just laugh?"

Noel leaned back in his chair, folding his arms.

"You're imagining things."

Melissa narrowed her eyes.

"I am not."

"Then it must've been someone else..."

He said smoothly, gesturing vaguely toward the crowd.

Melissa's white eyebrows drew together so tightly she looked like she might combust.

Lumi, watching them from the embroidery table, whispered dreamily.

"See? Don't they look cute together?"

Grassia dropped her face into her hands.

"We're doomed."

Minutes passed.

Neither Melissa nor Noel spoke another word.

He stayed where he was, lazy golden eyes watching the crowd with that same indifferent air, while Claire neatly organized papers and offered small smiles to the endless stream of students who lined up for the Delights Club.

Melissa sat stiffly at her own table, watching.

Every time another student curved toward his side, her jaw tightened. Every time laughter and excited chatter broke out around him, she wanted to slam her embroidery scissors into the table.

Her pale fingers clenched the edge of the cloth draped across her booth, the fabric crumpling beneath her grip.

And then her eyes flickered.

Remembering something from yesterday.

She remembered walking across the academy's garden on her way back from the library… and stopping.

Under the shade of the trimmed arch, a man and woman sat at one of the white tables.

A woman with red hair tied into a bun. Blue eyes that never wavered from the man across from her.

Noel.

Melissa remembered the way the small honey bowl tipped over, splattering against the woman's beige trench coat.

The way Noel, without hesitation, moved the table aside and pulled out his handkerchief.

His gloved hand pressing the cloth into the fabric with infuriating care, as if every fold mattered.

And the way Phoebe had looked at him.

Her eyes had shone.

Melissa's stomach twisted.

Then the drizzle came. She remembered Noel standing, moving behind Phoebe, his hand touching her back lightly.

Melissa could still see the scene clearly.

Noel draping his dark blue blazer over her shoulders.

Melissa's had hidden behind a marble pillar, her throat dry, her pulse deafening.

But when footsteps came, she panicked.

Turned to leave and bumped into her.

Melissa's head down, lips pressed tight muttered only one word.

"Sorry…"

And left.

And now, sitting in the Grand Hall, that memory stabbed at her chest all over again.

Her thoughts spun.

'Wasn't she his old boss?

Are they… seeing each other?

They must be…'

Her knuckles whitened around the tablecloth, gripping until it nearly tore.

'From the look in her eyes… the way she looked at Noel…'

Melissa lowered her gaze, teeth sinking into her lip.

The pain did nothing to quiet the bitter storm swirling in her chest.

"Miss Melissa?"

A voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

Grassia, still seated beside her, leaned closer.

"Do you want us to try and persuade students to join the Embroidery Club?"

Melissa blinked, shoulders jolting.

"…Eh?"

"You've been staring," Grassia said carefully.

"If you want, Lumi and I can call some of the students over.

It's just… most of them are heading next door."

Lumi nodded eagerly, hands clasped.

"We can say something nice about the club!"

Melissa swallowed, forcing her face into calmness.

"…No. It's not necessary."

Melissa shook her head, smoothing the wrinkles in the cloth her hands had bunched up.

"If anything, all those students over there…"

She nodded faintly toward Noel's crowded table.

"…They're just tasting the snacks. That's all."

Her voice was calm.

"The Embroidery Club already has its registrations. It's enough.

There's no need to fight over numbers."

Her words were firm, but her grip on the tablecloth still trembled, hidden from their sight.

Grassia and Lumi exchanged glances.

Neither said a word.

***

The noise of the Grand Hall suddenly shifted.

Whispers spread like ripples.

"The Chancellor…!"

"She's here?"

"Make way...make way!"

Students parted instantly, forming a clear path as the tall, graceful figure of Chancellor Lyssandra entered the hall.

Her golden staff tapped lightly against the marble floor, the silver patterns of her robes catching the light.

She walked forward with the same natural authority that commanded every eye, yet her expression was warm, even curious, as she followed the noise straight to the most crowded table.

Noel's.

Claire looked startled for a moment, but quickly bowed.

"Chancellor."

The students around the table stepped back, making room.

Some even lowered their heads nervously.

Lyssandra's lips curved.

"This table is quite popular."

Her voice carried lightly, but everyone heard it.

Noel, leaning lazily against the chair with his arms folded, inclined his head faintly.

"…Chancellor."

Lyssandra's eyes swept over the mountain of registration sheets, the plates of pastries, and the endless line of students clutching pens.

She chuckled softly.

"When I told you to form a club, Instructor Noel… this was not what I was expecting."

Her words sent another ripple through the crowd.

Students exchanged wide-eyed glances.

Even Melissa, watching from the neighboring table, blinked.

The Chancellor tilted her head, gaze still fixed on Noel.

"But then again… a cooking club teaching students does make sense."

Lyssandra smiled, lifting a finger as though counting.

"First...practicality.

Learning magic or any other theory is well and good, but a student who can't take care of themselves outside the classroom is incomplete.

Cooking teaches discipline, patience, and precision."

She paused, letting the students murmur.

"Second...community.

A kitchen brings people together. Sharing a meal builds bonds that simple lectures cannot.

That is something this academy… occasionally forgets."

Noel's lips twitched faintly.

"…Precisely."

Claire, quick to notice the timing, reached for a small paper bag and carefully unwrapped one of the pastries she had prepared.

A taiyaki, golden brown, steam still rising from the seam.

She held it out respectfully.

"Chancellor, would you like to taste one?"

Lyssandra blinked at the offering then accepted it gracefully.

"Thank you, Miss Claire."

She bit into it with measured elegance.

The crust gave a satisfying crackle, and warmth filled the air.

Her eyes lit faintly.

"Mmm…"

She chewed slowly, savoring every note.

"Red bean… but with a subtle twist.

Cinnamon, nutmeg… and… is that a faint hint of orange zest?"

The students gasped.

Claire's mouth fell open.

"Y-yes, exactly."

Even Noel blinked once, slightly surprised at her accuracy.

Chancellor Lyssandra smiled faintly.

"I see why the students are crowding here.

This is not ordinary street fare. This is balanced, precise… like your lectures, Instructor Noel."

A soft chuckle escaped her lips, light yet dignified.

"Mm. Very good."

The students whispered louder now.

"The Chancellor likes it…"

"She really said it's good!"

"I knew it tasted different!"

Noel only inclined his head faintly.

"…I'll take that as approval."

Lyssandra laughed once more, then turned away, her long robe trailing as she moved toward the exit.

Two people followed closely behind her...a man and a woman dressed in immaculate white clergy attire.

Their steps were quiet, reverent, as though their very presence kept the crowd subdued.

The Chancellor passed by Melissa's table.

Their eyes met briefly. Lyssandra gave her a polite nod before leaving the Grand Hall.

The room slowly returned to its normal rhythm, but the atmosphere had shifted entirely.

At the embroidery table, Melissa's white brows twitched.

'Even the Chancellor liked it… Uugghhh…'

Her lips pressed thin, and she dropped her gaze to her table.

The laughter and chatter from Noel's side only rang louder in her ears.