My Family in the Novel?

'Haah...'

Exhaustion weighed heavily on me as I surveyed the room, my eyes landing on the peacefully slumbering Aria sprawled across my bed.

She harbored some resentment over my decision to give Elena the ring first, though I managed to calm her down by promising to present her own ring soon.

However, the more pressing issue at the moment was Aria's brazen attempt to share the bed with me, much to the bewilderment of Louise, who observed the situation with an unmistakably odd expression.

Unwilling to invite further awkwardness by allowing Aria to sleep beside me in Louise's presence, I hesitated.

Yet, Aria, with an almost forceful insistence, pulled me into bed, squeezing her eyes shut and wrapping herself around me so tightly that escape seemed impossible.

Her capricious nature never ceased to surprise me.

Checking the time, I realized dawn had yet to break.

"I woke up too early," I murmured to myself. Gazing down at Aria's sleeping form, I couldn't resist pinching her cheek lightly, eliciting an adorable squeal from her.

With careful movements, I extricated myself from Aria's embrace and rose from the bed.

My attention shifted to Analise, who had opted for the less-than-ideal sleeping arrangement of the couch.

Despite the apparent discomfort, Analise seemed accustomed to such conditions—perhaps a trait ingrained from her servant background.

Unable to bear seeing her sleep in such a manner, I decided to intervene.

Approaching Analise's peaceful form, I gently lifted her and transferred her to the vacant space on my bed.

Aria, stirred by the movement, instinctively reached out to the nearest object, which happened to be the recently repositioned Analise.

Aria's arms wrapped around Analise in a protective and possessive manner, prompting a soft chuckle to escape my lips.

Their unintentional cuddling made for a charming scene, and I couldn't help but appreciate the unexpected bond forming between them.

I looked around as I noticed something weird.

'…. Where is Louise?'

…..

"Louise, you're so kind" I often hear these words echoing around me, like a constant refrain in the symphony of compliments that surrounds my life.

"You're the best, Louise" they say, showering me with praise and admiration.

Requests follow suit, "Louise, can you help me?" as if my kindness and capabilities are boundless.

"Louise, our spirit princess!" they exclaim, attributing me with a title that seems to carry both reverence and affection.

"Louise, you're our department's pride and joy" they declare, a sentiment that, despite its familiarity, never ceases to warm my heart.

And then there's the more personal declaration, "Louise, I like you!"

From my parents to my classmates, from professors to random acquaintances, the chorus of admiration seems never-ending.

Yet, amid this sea of positivity, a nagging doubt remains.

Despite the smiles and the genuine-sounding words, a part of me struggles to fully embrace the praise.

There's a lingering skepticism that has taken root within me, a reluctance to believe in the sincerity of those words.

It all stems from a particular incident involving my sister.

Since that day, when trust was shattered and the foundation of my faith in others crumbled, I find it challenging to place complete confidence in anyone.

The memory of that betrayal casts a long shadow, coloring my interactions with a perpetual tinge of doubt.

Those who express kindness and admiration may do so with genuine intent, but the scars of the past have made it difficult for me to accept their words at face value.

Despite the outward appearances of warmth and connection, I grapple with an internal conflict—a struggle between the desire for genuine connections and the fear of vulnerability.

But there was one exception, and that exception was the man who saved me—the one who didn't question me: Adrian Vulter Tellus, a seemingly ordinary yet extraordinary top Alchemy student here at the academy.

From the surface, Adrian appeared like any other student, but there was an air of mystery surrounding him, as if he carried a multitude of secrets within the depths of his being.

Adrian's enigmatic background was evident in the way he spoke, acted, and even in the thoughts that seemed to occupy his mind.

His words were carefully chosen, laden with layers of meaning that hinted at complexities beyond immediate understanding. It was this inherent mystery that left me intrigued and, at times, perplexed.

While Adrian maintained an air of honesty, he possessed a skill for skirting around the true roots of his statements.

He spoke, but the depths of his intentions remained concealed.

It was this elusive quality that sparked doubt within me, a nagging uncertainty that lingered despite the trust he had earned by saving me.

Reflecting on my own behavior, I couldn't help but acknowledge the hypocrisy that existed within me.

Here I was, questioning someone I had yet to fully open up to, exposing the double standard that governed my perceptions.

I knew I could trust Adrian; his actions had already demonstrated that.

Yet, the inability to decipher the motivations behind his deeds instigated a growing unease within me.

As I spent more time with the people close to Adrian, it became clear that my understanding of him was just scratching the surface.

Adrian Vulter Tellus, the guy I thought I knew inside out, held onto secrets that went beyond what I could fathom.

His relationships, his past, and even his day-to-day life were veiled in mystery, and it humbled me to realize I wasn't the person I actually thought I was in his life.

When he finally returned after a long absence, my excitement reached a peak.

I was so caught up in the prospect of his presence that I forgot about everything else.

I even went the extra mile, dressing up to catch his eye.

But why did I feel the need to go to such lengths? It was a question I skirted around, choosing to act as if everything was business as usual.

The aftermath of his return, however, left me unexpectedly bruised.

Watching how he interacted with the saintess laid bare the stark reality of my place in his life.

The way he looked at her painted a picture of someone deeply in love.

It was a look I hadn't seen directed at me. Adrian, usually wearing a calm expression in most interactions, revealed a passionate side that was rarely on display, especially not for me.

The truth hit me hard—I didn't know Adrian as well as I thought. The depth of his connections was far beyond my grasp.

The hurt from this revelation was real, and I found myself wrestling with a mix of emotions.

Despite my attempts to keep it together, the gap between what I expected and what unfolded weighed heavily on my heart.

"Ian, here," Senior Elena, the saintess, called out to Adrian. He hesitated, responding, "I told you I'm quite full, Elena. I guess a single bite won't hurt."

'Ian'—whenever I heard the saintess address Adrian by his nickname, something inside me stirred.

Logically, I knew it was just a pet name, but each time it reached my ears, an unsettling sensation welled up within me.

His affectionate gaze and the gentle way he called her by name as well seemed to inflict a subtle pain, like a sharp sting resonating deep within.

'Am I jealous?'

Admitting it felt almost shameful. What right did I have to be jealous? Yet, every time I witnessed the tenderness in Adrian's eyes as he looked at the saintess, a part of me longed for that attention.

It was a conflicting emotion, a pang of envy mixed with a desire I struggled to comprehend.

As Senior Elena prepared to leave, heading back to her room, an unexpected surge of happiness washed over me at the prospect of her parting ways with Adrian.

In that moment, I despised myself for feeling that way.

The persona I wanted to forget—the very same personality that played a role in my sister's demise—resurfaced.

It was a bitter realization, a moment when I confronted the selfishness that lingered within me.

The internal struggle intensified as I grappled with conflicting emotions.

On one hand, the jealousy and longing for Adrian's attention weighed on my heart, and on the other, the guilt and self-loathing for harboring such feelings gnawed at my conscience.

Aria Tellus became an unexpectedly close friend during my stay in Adrian's room. It was almost inevitable, considering we practically lived together over the past week.

As I got to know her during this time, my initial impressions of her proved to be drastically off the mark.

Our first encounter took place during one of our routine lunch gatherings with Adrian and our other friends.

At that moment, my impression of Aria was that of an open and provocative woman.

Her mage uniform, adorned with sensual details, seemed to beckon attention, and her captivating eyes and alluring appearance suggested a certain sexual allure.

It was easy to be swayed by these initial perceptions, and I couldn't be blamed for thinking along those lines.

However, as we grew closer throughout the week, I realized how mistaken my first impressions were.

Aria turned out to be one of the kindest and most trustworthy individuals I had encountered.

Despite her sometimes-blunt way of expressing herself, I came to understand that her honesty was a virtue.

She didn't conceal anything and spoke her mind, a refreshing departure from the facade many people put up.

In a way, her straightforwardness was an asset, even if it took some getting used to.

What intrigued me, though, was the unique dynamic between Aria and Adrian. As siblings, their interactions were peculiar and left me with a sense that there was something they were hiding.

Despite Aria's openness, a subtle undercurrent suggested a hidden layer in their relationship.

It left me with a lingering curiosity, a desire to unravel the mystery concealed beneath their seemingly close bond.

Observing the dynamics between Aria and Adrian was like peering into a puzzle with missing pieces.

The way she effortlessly closed the distance between them for no apparent reason, the intensity in her gaze, and the subtle allure she seemed to cast in his direction—it all raised a silent alarm within me.

There was an undeniable awareness that something was amiss, yet the purity in the way they looked at each other, the genuine affection that radiated between them, contradicted my suspicions.

It was a confusing paradox.

Aria's actions seemed to hint at something beyond the boundaries of mere sibling camaraderie, something that set off alarm bells in my mind.

The way she effortlessly and subtly seduced him, the way he reciprocated with a kind of innocence—it was a complex interplay of emotions that defied easy interpretation.

Despite the signals that pointed toward an unconventional relationship, their genuine connection left me in a state of paradoxical acceptance.

Deep down, I knew I had no right to judge them.

After all, who was I in their intricate equation? Just a friend, a bystander who had inadvertently become privy to the intricate dance of their bond.

It was a realization that prompted me to step back and acknowledge the boundaries of my own role in their lives.

The complexities of their relationship, though perplexing, were not mine to unravel or decipher.

As I gazed up at the stars dotting the night sky, a sense of tranquility enveloped me.

The beauty of the world, expressed through the celestial display overhead, provided a welcome distraction from the tumultuous thoughts swirling in my mind.

I chose to let go of the stress induced by contemplating the intricate relationships Adrian has.