That was why she didn't have any reason to refuse.
Not just because it was expected of her.
But because, in truth, she preferred it.
Her lectures were few. Sparse. Selective by design. Not many noble students opted into her sessions willingly—not when the starlight magic she wielded couldn't be inherited, mimicked, or grafted onto a House name. Not when her very presence reminded them that greatness didn't always wear gold.
They came when they had to. When no one else could explain the fundamental impossibilities of dimensional casting or unravel the tangled equations of celestial resonance. But they didn't stay.
Not for long.
So yes—she had the space. And more importantly, the intent.
Because while the Academy's glossy speeches spoke of unity and reform, of shedding the weight of crests and titles, the truth beneath the marble floors hadn't shifted much.
The nobles still held the threads.
And the commoners still climbed blindfolded.
