Not the Hero, Not the Villain — Just the One Who Wins
Chapter 52: Dinner With Masha

Chapter 52: Dinner With Masha

The sun had barely dipped below the horizon when I reached the dormitory gates. The Academy’s towers cast long shadows across the cobblestone paths, their stained-glass windows glowing with the last embers of twilight.

I stepped into the cool silence of the hall, the heavy door closing softly behind me. My coat was dusted with dried leaves, and my boots echoed across the polished floor as I walked toward my quarters.

"Master," came a soft, familiar voice.

Masha, my ever-efficient maid, stood by the entrance of my room. Her usual uniform was immaculate, silver hair tied into a loose braid, and her eyes calm and unreadable as always.

"Dinner is ready," she said. "You may take a shower while I prepare the table."

I nodded, letting the day’s tension roll off my shoulders. "Fine."

By the time I returned, steam still clinging to my skin and my hair damp from the bath, the table was already set. Two plates, two glasses. She no longer insisted on standing behind me like some background figure. We’d been eating together lately—not by her choice at first, of course.

She had refused when I initially suggested it. Something about boundaries and propriety.

So I forced the habit. And now?

It felt almost normal.

As I took my seat, Masha lifted the silver lid, revealing roasted meat, vegetables, and warm bread. A bowl of citrus broth steamed beside the platter.

"Tonight’s menu is simple," she said. "But balanced."

I took a bite without comment.

She sat across from me, folding her hands in her lap before picking up her own fork.

Then came her observation.

"You arrived late today, Master."

I arched a brow mid-chew. "You keeping tabs on me now?"

She gave a small pout. "Let me finish. I wasn’t accusing. I was just... informing."

"Sounds like something a wife would say," I muttered, wiping my mouth.

Her eyes widened slightly. "I—what? No! That’s not—"

I smirked. "Relax. What happened?"

She regained composure and calmly listed, "There were three visitors today. Rin, Juliana... and Lucielle. As usual."

That got my attention.

I set my glass down. "Rin and Juliana?"

"Yes. They waited in the foyer for about twenty minutes. Lucielle stayed the longest. She always does."

I leaned back in my chair, brows furrowed.

Lucielle was expected—persistent, loyal, and traditional to a fault. That was why I rarely returned home.

But Rin and Juliana?

"Those two are wildcards," I muttered. "I don’t like surprises from people like them."

Masha gave a small sigh. "You should talk to your sister. She’s your own blood. She comes every day hoping to see you. Do you know how she looks when I tell her you’re not here?"

I didn’t answer.

"She leaves with tears in her eyes," Masha continued. "And she never complains. She never stops. You push her away, and yet she keeps coming back."

I picked up my fork again. "Guilt-tripping me won’t help."

"She doesn’t do it for guilt," Masha replied softly. "She does it because she still sees you as her brother. The boy she used to protect."

"...That boy’s gone."

Silence settled between us.

Finally, I sighed and changed the topic.

"Do you have any sense of men’s fashion?"

She blinked. "Pardon?"

"I need something formal. I’m attending an auction tomorrow evening."

Her eyes lit with curiosity. "With a friend?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"You... made a friend?"

"Shocking, I know."

She tilted her head. "Who is it?"

"Layla."

Her eyes widened. "Layla Nowa? The student council head?"

I nodded again.

She stared. "Is this... a date?"

"Why does everyone assume that?" I muttered. "No. It’s not a date."

"But you’re going to an evening auction, with a noble girl, dressed formally..."

I leaned forward. "Masha. I’m going with her for strategic reasons. She’s a shield. Her status will draw attention off me. The item I want to purchase is dangerous—possibly game-changing. I need to avoid suspicion and ensure I have enough financial coverage."

"Ah," she said, resting her chin on her hand. "So, you’re using her?"

"I’m recruiting her," I corrected.

She smirked. "Spoken like a war general."

"I’m fighting a war. Just not on a battlefield."

"Well," she said, standing. "I’ll prepare a set. Black velvet, maybe with a silver-trim overcoat. Understated but refined."

"Good. Make sure it fits the tone. Elegant, but... unapproachable."

"Like you," she said under her breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, Master."

As she began to clear the plates, she asked, "What time are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow evening."

She nodded. "Then I’ll have everything ready before then."

I stood, ready to return to my room. Just as I reached the doorway, I paused.

"...Thanks."

"For what?"

"For the food. And for the clothes."

She smiled. "And for reminding you about Lucielle?"

I didn’t respond.

But I didn’t deny it either.

The dishes were cleaned, the kitchen quiet, and the hum of mana lamps buzzed softly across the ceiling of the dorm.

I leaned back on the lounge chair in the common room, arms crossed, watching as Masha finished wiping the last of the cutlery with near ritualistic precision. She always moved like that—efficient, but never hurried. Not a single gesture wasted. Not even when she was irritated.

"You’re meticulous as ever," I remarked.

She placed the cloth down and turned, her silver braid swaying gently. "Of course. If I don’t keep things in order, you’d live like a cave beast."

"Harsh," I muttered. "I’m not that bad."

"You left your coat draped across the bookshelf," she pointed out, walking past me.

"...It needed air."

"And your boots are still caked in dried mud. The ’airing out’ excuse doesn’t apply there."

I gave her a sideways glance. "You’ve gotten bolder."

She looked smug. "Maybe. Or maybe I just stopped pretending you’re scary."

"Tch."

Masha poured herself a cup of tea and sat across from me. A faint silence settled—comfortably, this time. The kind that exists only between people used to one another’s presence.

"Are you nervous about the auction?" she asked, stirring slowly.

I thought for a moment. "No. Just calculating variables."

"Mm." She sipped. "Do you expect trouble?"

"Possibly," I said. "But not from the Academy. The attendees... may not be simple merchants."

"You think the item will attract underground interest?"

"More than that," I said, voice low. "If someone else realizes what that sword is—its true origin—then I might not be the only one after it."

Masha set her cup down. "Will Layla be enough to deflect suspicion?"

"I’ll have to make it enough," I replied. "Besides, she’s not just a noble. She’s the current council head. She’s built for appearances."

Masha studied me for a moment, then smirked.

"You do know how to choose your bait," she said.

I chuckled. "Harsh again. Are you jealous?"

She blushed lightly. "Me? Of that uptight ice princess? Never."

I leaned forward slightly. "You just called her uptight. I think that’s the first time you insulted someone who’s not me."

"Don’t get used to it," she said, standing up with her cup. "You’re still the primary target."

I stood as well, stretching slightly. "Just be sure the outfit’s ready. I’d rather not show up looking like a third-rate merchant."

Masha raised an eyebrow. "You’re not even second-rate yet, Master."

I laughed softly, then turned to my room.

"Goodnight, Masha."

"Goodnight... Ashen."

The use of my name instead of ’Master’ lingered in the air.

A soft flicker of warmth stirred at the edge of my chest.

But I didn’t turn back.

The next morning came with a steady knock on my door.

I pulled myself from the sheets and opened it.

Masha stood with a folded uniform over her arm, her hair already tied neatly and eyes sharp as ever.

"Breakfast is ready," she said. "And your council uniform is pressed."

"Appreciated."

After a quick wash and a slightly too-formal breakfast, I dressed and walked with her toward the dorm exit. Just as I stepped out, she handed me a scroll—sealed with the student council emblem.

"What’s this?"

"Authorization to leave for the auction," she said. "I delivered the request to Layla’s maid last night, and they expedited the response."

I nodded. "Efficient."

"You’re welcome," she said, bowing slightly.

"Try not to miss me too much while I’m gone," I added.

She rolled her eyes. "Please. I’ll be celebrating the silence."

The Academy was alive with color when I arrived.

Banners had started going up. Small groups of students practiced choreography in the garden spaces, while others sparred under instructors’ eyes. The cultural fest was more than a party—it was a political showpiece.

Nobles, merchants, foreign dignitaries. All watching.

I walked the central path, wearing the deep navy and gold trim of my council uniform. Heads turned. Some bowed. Others whispered.

"Look, that’s Ashen..."

"The phoenix summoner..."

"Didn’t he go toe-to-toe with Rin...?"

"Is he really attending with three different girls on three different days?"

I ignored all of it.

Gossip didn’t matter.

Inside the classroom building, the hallways were bustling.

I stepped into my classroom just as the instructor was finishing attendance.

"Crimson," the professor said, "barely on time again."

I gave a half-hearted salute. "It’s still ’on time’ if I’m not late, isn’t it?"

She sighed. "Take your seat."

As I walked to my place, Sasha waved from her desk, a tiny smile on her lips. She didn’t say anything, but her eyes lingered on me a little longer than usual.

Eren leaned over from behind and whispered, "You really going with three girls? What are you, a reverse harem protagonist?"

"Jealous?" I whispered back.

Noora smacked Eren’s arm and glared at both of us. "Focus. The Headmaster’s visiting today for evaluations."

Sasha leaned over slightly. "You remembered to bring your authorization scroll, right?"

I nodded. "Got it this morning."

She smiled. "Good. I’ll be waiting for updates after the auction. Don’t get stabbed."

"If I do," I said dryly, "I’ll make sure to bleed on someone deserving."

The lecture began shortly after, but my mind drifted.

Today would be quiet.

Tonight would not.