Chapter 911 - Caught ?
Seraphina sat at her desk, her blue eyes cold as she scrolled through the academy's news channels, student forums, and the private networks where rumors thrived. The pictures she had so meticulously leaked were everywhere now. Her plan had worked—at least in terms of exposure.
And yet…
She clenched her jaw as she read through the comments, her fingers tightening against the edges of her smartwatch.
"Damn, Irina and Astron look good together."
"I didn't know they were that close. Kinda jealous."
"Irina seems so happy. When was the last time we saw her like this?"
"Matriarch Emberheart hasn't even said anything yet. If this was a problem, it would've been dealt with already."
Seraphina's grip on her smartwatch nearly cracked the device.
This wasn't how it was supposed to go.
She had imagined the fallout vividly. Irina shaken, unsure, forced to reconsider the relationship in the face of scrutiny. Astron finally forced into a position where he couldn't just walk away from consequences. And the Matriarch—surely the Matriarch would step in, wouldn't she?
After all, Irina wasn't just anyone. She was the Emberheart heir, bound by lineage, by expectation. The idea that someone of Astron's status—a nobody, an orphan—could walk into that space and remain unchallenged was unthinkable.
But the academy's reaction was the exact opposite of what she had predicted.
People weren't whispering in fear or disgust. They were celebrating. Irina wasn't cornered—she was glowing.
Seraphina had never seen her so visibly happy before.
The most infuriating part? The one thing she had counted on—the Matriarch's intervention—never came.
She had waited, checked every major news outlet and private network connected to the Emberheart name, anticipating an official statement, a reprimand, something.
And yet, the silence from the Emberheart family was deafening.
It wasn't the silence of avoidance or impending punishment. It was the silence of acceptance.
Seraphina's fingers curled into a fist against her desk, her breath slow and measured, trying to suppress the wave of irritation threatening to spill over.
'Why?'
Why hadn't the Matriarch done anything?
A woman known for her control, for her calculated authority—was she really going to sit back and allow this? Allow her heir to openly flaunt a connection to someone with no lineage to speak of?
Seraphina leaned back in her chair, exhaling sharply through her nose. Her blue eyes narrowed as she stared at the pictures now plastered all over the academy's networks.
Irina and Astron—standing side by side, that infuriatingly genuine smile on Irina's face. The way her hand rested so easily against his. The way she leaned in as if there was no one else in the world but him.
And worse…
The way Astron, despite his usual unreadable expression, didn't push her away.
Seraphina had expected chaos.
Instead, she had given them an announcement.
A confirmation of what everyone had already suspected but never had proof of. And now, thanks to her, the entire academy knew.
Seraphina exhaled slowly, her breath steadying as the chaos in her mind settled into something more focused. If the Matriarch hadn't acted, that meant she already knew about Astron.
And if that was the case…
Seraphina's blue eyes darkened as realization dawned. The fact that he still stepped into this academy meant that he was already acknowledged by her. Even if only partially.
That single fact shifted everything.
The Matriarch was not a woman who tolerated uncertainty. She ruled her house with absolute authority, controlling everything from the Emberheart family's finances to its alliances. And yet, she had not crushed Astron.
Which meant she saw value in him.
Seraphina tapped a single finger against the desk, her mind racing.
'That makes him dangerous. If he's someone worthy of the Matriarch's recognition, then others will covet him too.'
She clenched her jaw. Coveting someone like him would have been easier if he were an unknown—an orphan with talent but no backing. But now? Now he had something far worse.
Recognition.
His lack of lineage didn't matter anymore if powerful people started to look at him as a prospect rather than an anomaly.
Damn it.
She sighed, a rare, quiet exhale of genuine exhaustion. This was not how she wanted things to unfold.
Her mother's position in the household wasn't getting any better. And that was yet another problem gnawing at the back of her mind.
Not that I can do anything about that right now.
Seraphina's fingers pressed against her temple, rubbing away the dull ache of stress. She was trying—desperately trying—to grow her own faction, to solidify her network and connections. But maintaining top-tier grades while maneuvering through academy politics made it far from easy.
Still…
She allowed herself a faint smirk, though it lacked its usual sharpness. None of that mattered. She had full confidence in herself.
The moment of tension faded as she stood from her chair, her long silver hair cascading behind her.
Enough of this.
It was time to step outside, to breathe, to observe.
Without another word, she exited her dorm.
Since she was a top 10 ranker, she had the luxury of her own building—just like the other elites at the academy. The air was crisp as she stepped onto the stone path outside, the warm sunlight doing little to melt the cool aura that always seemed to linger around her.
The crisp air brushed against Seraphina's skin as she stepped outside, her silver hair catching the sunlight. The academy grounds were lively, students moving about in their usual clusters, chatter filling the air. It was a scene she had witnessed a thousand times before, yet today, something about it felt different.
She barely took two steps forward when her eyes landed on a sight she hadn't expected.
From the neighboring dorm building—Irina's building—two figures emerged.
One, vibrant and unmistakable, was Irina Emberheart, her fiery red hair cascading freely over her shoulders, her posture as confident as ever. And beside her, walking with his usual steady stride, was Astron Natusalune.
For a brief moment, Seraphina just stared.
"Heh?"
The surprised sound slipped from her lips before she could catch it.
'This… what is this?'
They weren't just walking together. It was too natural, too familiar. The way Irina turned toward him, speaking animatedly, the way she laughed, unabashed and bright, was a sight Seraphina had never witnessed before.
And Astron—though his expression remained as calm and unreadable as ever—wasn't ignoring her. He wasn't brushing her off or stepping away. He was listening, his gaze shifting toward her as if he were genuinely engaged in whatever she was saying.
'Unbelievable.'
Seraphina crossed her arms, her blue eyes gleaming with a newfound sharpness. She had expected Irina to be bold, but this?
'So she's this comfortable with him already? And he… allows it?'
A slow, amused smirk crept onto her lips.
This was an opportunity.
"Well, well," she drawled, stepping forward just enough so her presence couldn't be ignored. "Look what we have here. The lovebirds, out in the open."
Irina immediately stiffened, the casual smile on her lips twisting into a scowl as she turned toward Seraphina. "The hell did you just say?"
Seraphina let out a soft laugh, tilting her head in feigned innocence. "Oh, nothing. Just making an observation. The two of you… stepping out together from your dorm this early in the morning? People might start assuming things."
Irina's eye twitched. "You're making assumptions, you frostbitten—"
"Oh? So there's nothing to assume?" Seraphina interrupted smoothly, her blue eyes flicking toward Astron now, watching for any sign of discomfort. But, as expected, he gave her nothing. His gaze remained calm, steady.
Unmoved.
'Tch.'
It was frustrating, really. She had met all kinds of people—those who flinched under pressure, those who lashed out, those who tried to outmaneuver her. But Astron? He didn't even give her the satisfaction of a reaction.
And yet…
The way he stood there, unwavering beside Irina, not bothering to defend himself, was a response in itself.
'He doesn't need to clarify anything. Because he's already chosen where he stands.'
Seraphina clicked her tongue softly. Interesting.
She turned her focus back to Irina, who looked one insult away from throwing a punch.
"Relax, Emberheart," she said, brushing a strand of silver hair behind her ear. "I'm simply fascinated. After all, I assumed you'd be at least a little… concerned after the little scandal that went around."
Chapter 912 - Caught ? (2)
It had been weeks since the pictures were leaked.
Weeks since Seraphina had expected Irina to crumble.
And yet, not only had she not crumbled—she thrived.
Seraphina had been forced to watch from a distance, unable to push any further. Their schedules had kept them apart—group trainings, practical combat sessions, and specialized courses for top-ranking students. Unlike before, where she could play these games at her leisure, real academy duties were beginning to take precedence.
It was infuriating.
She wasn't one to let things sit for too long, especially when they didn't go her way. And now, after weeks, she finally found her moment.
It was after a long day of practical training, the academy grounds glowing in the dim light of an approaching evening. Most students were either finishing up their exercises or heading back to their dorms. Seraphina, however, had stayed behind, letting the others filter out first.
And that was when she spotted her.
Irina Emberheart, alone, finishing up some post-training cooldown exercises near the academy's sparring fields.
Seraphina's lips curled into a smirk. Perfect.
She strode forward, purposefully, letting her presence be known before speaking. "You must be tired."
Irina didn't even flinch, her crimson eyes cutting toward Seraphina as she rolled her shoulder. "What do you want, Frostborne?"
Seraphina let out a soft laugh. "So hostile. Shouldn't old classmates be more welcoming after not seeing each other for weeks?"
Irina gave her a flat look. "Classmates, sure. Friends? No."
Seraphina smirked. "Pity." She took a step closer, her blue eyes gleaming. "I was actually wondering… how things have been going for you and him."
Irina's posture stiffened, but only for a fraction of a second. A lesser observer wouldn't have noticed it, but Seraphina did.
'Oh?'
"Why do you care?" Irina asked, crossing her arms, her tone clipped.
Seraphina tilted her head. "Curiosity, of course. You two have become quite the sensation around campus, after all. People are still talking."
Irina scoffed. "Let them talk."
Seraphina chuckled, feigning amusement. "I suppose you don't care if certain things are revealed, then?"
The air around them shifted.
Irina's amber eyes narrowed, and a faint pulse of mana rippled through the space between them. It wasn't an outright challenge—not yet—but it was a warning.
Seraphina's smirk didn't waver. If anything, she looked amused by the reaction.
"You shouldn't overstep your boundaries, Seraphina," Irina said, her voice calm, but dangerously firm.
Seraphina clicked her tongue. "Oh? And what boundaries would those be?"
Irina took a step closer, the fiery aura around her undeniable now. "The kind that won't end in your favor."
For a moment, there was silence—a tense, crackling energy between them.
Then, Seraphina let out a slow, deliberate exhale, as if releasing whatever tension had built up within her. "I see." She stepped back, her blue eyes glinting in amusement.
"No need to be so dramatic, Emberheart," she said smoothly. "I was simply reminiscing. After all, some things are prohibited in the academy, aren't they?"
Irina's fist clenched at that, and Seraphina relished the small moment of control.
But then—Irina smirked.
Seraphina's eyes flickered in confusion.
Irina leaned in slightly, lowering her voice just enough to make the words sink in deeper. "You're desperate."
Seraphina's smirk faltered.
Irina's smirk widened, but there was no warmth in it.
Because she knew.
She had known since the beginning.
The moment the pictures of her and Astron had been leaked, she had gone straight into damage control. Not just to control the rumors, not just to minimize the chaos—
But to find out who dared to touch their family's name.
And it hadn't taken long.
She had traced the leak to a small media agency—one that had no history of breaking high-profile stories like this, no connections deep enough to even dare making a move on the Emberheart family's business.
Which meant—
Someone fed them the story.
Someone pushed them to publish it.
And when Esme and others got involved, the situation had been handled instantly—the agency contacted, the executives forced to scrap every trace of the news. The head of the agency had been discarded, made into an example without hesitation.
Yet when Irina looked deeper, she saw something even more interesting.
The woman running the agency?
She had never been the mastermind.
Just another pawn thrown away once her usefulness had run out.
And who else could be behind it?
Who else had the resources, the ruthlessness, and the personal motivation to try and pull something like this off?
Irina had known the answer before she even asked the question.
Seraphina Frosborne.
Because only she could do something like this.
Only she would be this thorough, this precise, this unrelenting—
And only she could discard people without hesitation once they had served their purpose.
Irina saw it in her eyes now.
That flicker of control, that calculated amusement starting to waver—
Because Seraphina knew that Irina had figured it out.
"You're desperate," Irina said again, low and steady, letting the words sink in.
Seraphina's smirk wavered.
Not much.
But just enough.
Irina's smile sharpened. "Got quiet, didn't you?"
Seraphina exhaled, regaining her composure quickly, but it was too late. Irina had already seen through her.
"You're talking nonsense, Emberheart," Seraphina said smoothly, but Irina could hear the slight edge in her voice.
"Am I?" Irina tilted her head. "Because I remember how fast that media agency collapsed. And I remember how quickly that woman was discarded. The way she just… disappeared."
Seraphina's fingers twitched.
Oh.
Oh, that hit.
Irina leaned in slightly, lowering her voice to a whisper. "You really don't hesitate to throw away your pawns, huh?"
Seraphina's expression froze for a fraction of a second—just a flicker, just barely noticeable—
But Irina caught it.
And she knew she had won.
Seraphina inhaled slowly, letting Irina's words settle in the space between them.
She had expected this.
From the moment the media agency collapsed, from the moment the whispers in the academy turned from scandal to spectacle, she had known this conversation would come.
So what if Irina had figured her out? So what if the pawn she used had already been discarded?
It changed nothing.
Seraphina took a step forward, closing the distance between them until they stood just inches apart, her blue eyes locking onto Irina's burning crimson ones.
Her smirk returned, slow and deliberate, as if she was unfazed by the confrontation. "So?" she murmured, her voice light, almost teasing. "Did you like my present then?"
Irina's glare sharpened, but before she could speak, she did something unexpected—she leaned back, right into Astron, resting her weight against him as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Seraphina's eyes flickered, but she didn't react.
Irina let out a slow, exhaled chuckle. "Contrary to you, I don't need to fear little schemes like this." Her lips curled into a smirk of her own. "I already knew this would happen."
Seraphina tilted her head, feigning curiosity. "Oh? And yet, here we are, discussing it."
Irina's fingers traced the edge of her gauntlet absentmindedly, the faint flicker of embers trailing at her touch. "We're discussing it because I wanted to. Not because you made me."
Seraphina chuckled softly, her blue eyes gleaming. "You're still defensive. Which means it got to you just a little bit."
Irina's smirk widened. "Or maybe I just wanted to see you struggle to act like you still have control."
Seraphina felt a sharp flicker of irritation deep in her chest, but she didn't let it show. Not here. Not now.
Because this wasn't a loss.
A setback, perhaps. But not a loss.
Seraphina leaned in just slightly, her voice a whisper against the tense air between them. "Enjoy this moment, Emberheart," she murmured, blue eyes glinting like frost catching the morning light. "Because eventually, you'll make a mistake. And when you do, I'll be right there to watch you fall."
Irina's smirk didn't waver. If anything, she looked amused. "You'll be waiting a long time, Frostborne."
Seraphina stepped back, exhaling slowly, letting her aura cool.
Then, without another word, she turned on her heel and walked away, already planning her next move.
Chapter 913 - News spread
As Seraphina disappeared into the distance, the tension she left behind lingered only for a moment before dissolving.
Irina exhaled sharply, rolling her shoulders as if shaking off the encounter.
She felt Astron's gaze on her, quiet but watchful, before he finally spoke.
"You did quite well."
Irina smirked. "Of course I did."
She turned to him, crossing her arms lazily. "I don't really care much about things like this anymore."
Astron's expression remained unreadable. "Really?"
"Yeah."
He tilted his head slightly, watching her with quiet calculation. "Since when?"
Irina blinked at the question.
Then—
Her smirk widened.
She leaned in slightly, voice carrying the faintest trace of mischief. "Since the moment you entered my life."
Astron didn't react.
Not outwardly.
But she saw it.
That fraction of a second where his body stilled, the briefest pause before he responded.
"Don't act cheeky."
Irina grinned, tilting her head. "Why? Your heart fluttered."
"It did not."
"Heh…"
Astron sighed, as if already regretting indulging her.
Then, his tone shifted.
"But you really are antagonizing quite a lot. First Hawkins, and now Frostborne."
Irina's smirk faded slightly, her gaze sharpening.
She knew what he meant.
The Frostborne family had always held neutral ground within the power balance even though they were rivals with Emberheart. While they weren't as aggressive as the Hawkins, they weren't passive either.
And now—
They had chosen a side.
"The Frostborne family has already involved themselves," Astron said, his voice even. "They've aligned with Hawkins."
*****
The usual hum of conversation filled the classroom as students settled in, some reviewing notes while others, like Julia, were doing anything but preparing for the lesson. She was currently lounging in her chair, one foot propped up against the desk, smirking at Lucas, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here.
"So, Lucas," Julia began, stretching out his name with an almost too casual drawl.
Lucas groaned, already bracing himself. "What now?"
Julia's grin widened. "Slept well last night? Or were you too busy avoiding death?"
Lilia glanced over with mild interest. "You never explained what happened, by the way."
Lucas ran a hand down his face. "Nothing happened."
"Oh ho," Julia gasped dramatically, placing a hand on her chest. "Ladies and gentlemen, we are witnessing denial in real time."
Carl, who had been quietly observing, let out a low chuckle. "So you did do something."
Lucas exhaled sharply, glaring at Julia. "Can we not do this here?"
"Why not?" Julia said, throwing up her hands. "I need people to hear this. It's comedy gold."
Before Lucas could fire back, the classroom door creaked open, drawing a few glances from the students who were still settling in.
And that was when they walked in.
Irina and Astron entered together, side by side, moving with their usual effortless confidence—or, in Astron's case, his usual impassive silence. Irina had her arms crossed, her sharp golden eyes scanning the room for a brief second before heading toward her usual seat. Astron, as always, barely acknowledged anyone, making a beeline straight for his desk.
Julia, however, was already on the attack.
Her smirk widened as she turned her gaze toward Irina, tapping a finger against her chin as if deep in thought. Then, with an exaggerated hmm, she finally spoke.
"Loverbirds?"
The words cut through the classroom noise like a knife, earning a few glances from nearby students.
Irina, instead of scoffing like usual, merely arched an eyebrow at Julia, her golden eyes glinting with amusement. She leaned back in her chair, resting her chin on her hand, clearly in a very good mood.
Julia immediately sensed something was off.
Irina never let her banter go this easily—either she was actually having a good day, or she was about to turn the tables.
"Oh, Julia," Irina said smoothly, her tone far too casual. "Are you obsessed with my love life? Should I be flattered?"
Julia blinked. "Wait—what? No. That's not—"
"I mean," Irina continued, not letting her interrupt, "if you want to talk about my romantic prospects so badly, I can only assume it's because yours are nonexistent."
The table erupted into laughter.
Julia's mouth fell open. "Excuse me?!"
Lucas chuckled, shaking his head. "Wow. She got you good."
Lilia smirked, arms crossed. "That was brutal."
Carl, ever the quiet observer, simply nodded. "Effective."
Julia, absolutely not okay with being out-bantered for the first time in forever, clenched her fists. "That's not fair! I wasn't even trying to go that deep!"
Irina's smirk widened. "Oh? So you can dish it out, but you can't take it?"
Julia sputtered, her brain scrambling for a comeback. She had never been on the losing end of this before. And now? First Astron had bested her during training, and now Irina was out-bantering her?
Unacceptable.
Her eyes narrowed as she honed in on a new target.
"Alright, Emberheart," Julia said, leaning forward with a smirk. "You're feeling confident today. But let me remind you—Silver players shouldn't be talking to me."
The reaction was immediate.
Irina's smirk vanished, replaced with a slight twitch in her eye.
Lucas let out a gasp of mock shock. "Oh no."
Lilia covered her mouth, barely holding back a laugh. "You did not just bring up her rank."
Carl raised an eyebrow, interested in how this was going to unfold.
Even Astron, who had already tuned them all out, flicked his gaze toward Julia briefly before returning to his tablet.
Julia, now feeling slightly better, grinned wickedly. "That's right. Stay in your lane, Silver."
Irina inhaled slowly, her golden eyes narrowing. Then, instead of snapping back, she smirked.
"Oh, Julia," she said sweetly, "I can always rank up."
Julia's smirk widened. "Oh, Irina, come on. Everyone who's stuck in Silver says that."
Irina just laughed.
A real, genuine chuckle—not frustrated, not defensive. Just amused.
And that? That made Julia pause.
Her eyes narrowed slightly, suspicion creeping in. Irina was never this calm when her rank was brought up.
Why did she look so confident today?
Something was off.
Before Julia could press further, the classroom door opened again, and another familiar voice joined the group.
"Yo."
Ethan walked in, greeting them with a nod as he made his way toward his usual seat.
But something was different.
His tone was normal—casual, relaxed, like always—but his expression wasn't.
His face was set in something almost serious.
His hazel eyes had that look—not angry, not stressed, but deep in thought, like something was weighing on him.
Irina noticed instantly.
Julia did too.
Even Lilia, who rarely paid close attention to others' moods, flicked her gaze toward him in quiet observation.
Carl, as usual, said nothing, but there was a brief shift in his posture.
The atmosphere changed, just slightly.
Julia tilted her head. "Huh. You look like you're actually using your brain today."
Ethan exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. It happens sometimes."
Irina leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. "Something up?"
Ethan glanced around at the group, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. "You guys didn't get the news?"
Julia raised an eyebrow. "What news?"
Before Ethan could answer, Lilia spoke up first.
"We did," she said, her voice quieter than usual. "But… are they really true?"
Ethan's expression darkened slightly, his usual nonchalance fading. He gave a small nod. "Yeah. It's true."
Julia and Irina exchanged glances.
"Okay, hold on," Julia said, crossing her arms. "What exactly are we talking about? Because clearly, I missed something."
Irina nodded. "Same. What happened?"
Ethan sighed, leaning back in his chair. "The Hartley Guild was hit hard. Twelve of their dungeons were attacked yesterday. Twelve."
Chapter 914 - News Spread (2)
"The Hartley Guild was hit hard. Twelve of their dungeons were attacked yesterday. Twelve."
Julia's eyes widened slightly, but it was Irina who reacted first. "Wait, what?"
Ethan exhaled, letting his gaze drift across the room before speaking again.
"Marin Kont. Royce Grant. Valencia Marlowe." He said their names one by one, letting the weight of them settle. "All three are gone."
Julia leaned back slightly, crossing her arms, trying to absorb the information. "Damn…"
Irina frowned, deep in thought. "I know those names. They weren't just strong—they were pillars in your guild's leadership."
Lilia, who had been quiet, finally spoke. "I met them," she said, her voice subdued. "During the joint operations between the military and Hartley's guild. Marin was in charge of coordination for high-risk dungeons. Royce handled strategic security, and Valencia… she was an iron wall. No nonsense, no hesitation."
Carl, who had remained his usual unreadable self, finally gave a small nod. "I met them too," he said simply.
Olympus Vanguard, Lilia's guild, was a direct ally of the Hartleys. They had worked together before, in large-scale operations where the military and elite guilds needed to coordinate efforts. Losing three executives of that caliber wasn't just a loss—it was a statement.
"I hope everything's under control," Lilia murmured. "If things are escalating this quickly, the capital might not stay safe for long."
Ethan ran a hand through his hair. "It's worse than that."
Julia raised an eyebrow. "There's more?"
"Yeah." Ethan leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "Emily's guild was attacked too. Azure Crest."
That got their attention.
Emily wasn't close with anyone in this group—except for Ethan—but they all knew her.
As if on instinct, their gazes shifted toward the chestnut-haired girl sitting a few rows ahead.
Emily's posture was stiff, her fingers curled tightly around the edges of her book. She wasn't part of the conversation, but she had clearly heard them.
Even from this distance, it was obvious—she was stressed.
Her shoulders were tense, her focus absent.
Lilia sighed softly. "Figures."
Ethan sighed, running a hand through his hair before continuing. "It was a full-scale ambush. Azure Crest sent a team into a dungeon, but the whole thing was a setup. Three rank-8 demonic humans were waiting for them—completely wiped out Team 3. Harin Anderson barely made it out alive."
Julia let out a low whistle, shaking her head. "Three rank-8s? For a mid-tier guild?"
"It wasn't just an attack," Ethan said, his voice quieter now. "It was an extermination attempt."
Lilia exhaled through her nose, her arms crossed. "So they were trying to wipe out Azure Crest completely."
Ethan gave a small nod. "Yeah. And it almost worked."
"This doesn't make sense. Didn't you say, Azure Crest isn't small, but it's not exactly a major player either. They don't warrant this kind of aggression. Unless—"
Ethan's eyes flickered toward Emily again. She still hadn't moved. Hadn't spoken.
She was holding everything in.
Lilia followed his gaze, her expression softening slightly. "She's not gonna talk about it," she said.
"Yeah," Ethan muttered. "I know."
And then—
The door to the lecture hall swung open.
The shift in atmosphere was immediate. Conversations quieted, postures straightened, and the weight of the topic hanging between them was pushed aside—for now.
A tall man in formal attire strode in, carrying a sleek tablet in one hand. His presence alone commanded attention, the room settling into place as he approached the podium.
"Good morning," the professor said, his voice crisp as he tapped something on his tablet. The screens at the front of the room flickered to life, displaying a series of diagrams.
"Today, we'll be discussing strategic combat formations in high-risk dungeon environments. I trust you've all reviewed the required readings?"
Ethan leaned back in his chair, exhaling quietly.
For now, the conversation was over.
But the tension?
It wasn't going anywhere.
*****
I had been listening.
From the moment Ethan walked in, from the moment his tone didn't quite match his usual demeanor, I had been listening. Every word, every shift in body language, every flicker of unspoken tension between them.
And as I processed what I had just heard, one thought settled in my mind.
'So it has started.'
The Conflict Escalates.
This was one of the defining moments in the game—a sequence that marked the beginning of one of the most dangerous storylines. The guild wars were no longer just isolated skirmishes or political maneuvers behind closed doors.
It was becoming a full-scale war.
'Indeed.'
The Hartley Guild and the Philips Family had begun their direct clashes. Their hostility had already been simmering for years, but this? This was different. This wasn't a warning. This wasn't posturing.
This was blood.
This was a declaration that neither side would back down.
And I knew exactly how we had gotten here.
Because I had played a role in it.
The Azure Crest Guild.
The catalyst.
The reason the Philips Family had finally stepped forward, pushing the conflict into the open.
It wasn't an accident. It wasn't fate.
It was intentional.
I had made sure of it.
When I decided to finance the Azure Crest Guild, it hadn't just been for their survival. Even with Ethan's backing, they wouldn't have risen as quickly as they had. They wouldn't have garnered this much attention.
I had ensured their growth. Their expansion.
And in doing so, I had forced the Philips Family to react.
From the game itself, I knew that Azure Crest Guild's operational point—the territory they were expanding into—determined their fate.
Because in that very same area, two other guilds were operating in secrecy.
Philips Family's undercover factions.
The moment Azure Crest grew large enough to threaten them, the Philips Family had to act. And their first move had been a direct strike against Emily's guild, targeting her team and Ethan alongside her.
That attack had served two purposes.
First I killed that executive.
The InfernalCovenant's executive had made a fatal mistake—targeting Ethan, knowing full well he wasn't just an ordinary cadet. They had considered him a nuisance, a talented outlier, but nothing more.
That was their miscalculation.
Because I hunted their executive down.
Because I made sure he didn't live past that night.
His elimination wasn't just revenge. It was a signal. One that forced the Hartleys to respond in kind.
That was the second purpose of the attack.
The moment an executive was removed and Ethan got attacked, the Hartley Family was dragged into the conflict.
It was no longer just a territorial dispute.
It was war.
Now, with the Emberhearts fighting Hawkins and the Hartleys fighting Philips, the polarization of power was accelerating.
It was happening earlier than expected.
In the original timeline of the game, these conflicts wouldn't have reached this scale yet. The power struggles would have simmered longer, more pieces moving before all-out war erupted.
But my actions had changed that.
And I had long since accepted it.
This conflict wouldn't remain contained between the guilds. Wars never did.
It would spread—through commerce, through politics, through the very foundation of power itself.
And I could already predict how the pieces would fall.
Economic Impact
The trade routes controlled by both the Hartleys and the Philips Family would become battlegrounds.
The Hartleys, as one of the dominant forces in trade and resource distribution, had a near-monopoly on enchanted goods, dungeon materials, and alchemical supplies.
The Philips Family, with their network of hidden black-market operations, controlled rare artifacts, underground dealings, and the circulation of illicit magical substances.
With open warfare between them, their supply chains would fracture.
This would trigger widespread shortages:
Alchemy ingredients would become scarce, impacting potion production.
Blacksmithing materials, especially high-grade enchanted ores, would see a dramatic price surge.
The dungeon economy would destabilize as high-risk locations were no longer properly managed.
Smaller guilds and independent adventurers who relied on these supplies would be the first to suffer.
Prices would skyrocket.
A black market would emerge stronger than ever, with third-party factions exploiting the instability for their own gain. And soon, even those uninvolved in the war would feel its weight.
This wasn't just a guild war. It was an economic disaster waiting to unfold.
Chapter 915 - Politics
Trevor sat in his dimly lit room, his back pressed against the cool leather of his chair. The curtains were drawn, allowing only the faintest slivers of sunlight to filter through. The holo-projector flickered before him, casting the imposing figure of his father into the room.
Trevor had skipped today's lectures. Not because he was avoiding anyone—not because of yesterday. He told himself that wasn't the reason. This was more important. This was real power.
And from the way his father's smirk curled at the edges of his lips, it was obvious.
The Philips family had won.
"Well done, Trevor," his father's voice came through the transmission, smooth, pleased, like a general surveying the battlefield after a successful purge. "Your actions worked."
Trevor exhaled slowly, keeping his expression neutral despite the growing satisfaction curling in his chest.
"They were sloppy," his father continued, arms crossed over his broad chest. "Too comfortable. Too reliant on their own importance. The Hartley Guild has been a thorn in our side for years, but now?" He leaned forward slightly, his dark eyes glinting. "Now, they're bleeding."
Trevor's fingers tapped against the armrest. "Twelve dungeons, all hit in a single night," he murmured, repeating the report he had received earlier. "Three of their high-ranking members are gone."
Marin Kont. Royce Grant. Valencia Marlowe.
Trevor wasn't a fool. He knew who those people were. They weren't just assets—they were pillars.
And now, they were corpses.
With Kaya Hartley occupied at the academy, it had been so much easier. She was the real force behind the Hartley Guild's operations. With her out of the picture, their coordination was sluggish, vulnerable.
And vulnerability meant opportunity.
"Azure Crest was targeted too," Trevor muttered, shifting in his seat. "Seems like the attacks weren't exclusive to the Hartleys."
His father's smirk didn't falter. "Of course. You think I'd be content just clipping one guild's wings?" He exhaled, tilting his head slightly. "Azure Crest is weaker, but their alliances make them dangerous. Wiping out one of their elite teams sends a message. They'll hesitate before making any more moves."
Trevor absorbed that in silence. He had expected a major operation but hearing the full extent of the chaos they had unleashed…
It was perfect.
"The capital is in disarray." His father leaned back, looking entirely at ease despite the bloodbath he had orchestrated. "The Hartleys are scrambling, losing ground. Olympus Vanguard is getting nervous. If we push just a little more, they'll be forced to pull back entirely."
Trevor let his lips curl into a small smirk.
"And Kaya?"
His father chuckled.
Trevor watched as his father's smirk widened, the satisfaction practically dripping from his expression.
"You did well bringing her to the academy," his father said smoothly, his voice filled with undisguised approval. "Kaya Hartley joined the mentorship program, just as planned. And while she was playing teacher, we tore her family's foundation apart."
Trevor exhaled, his grip tightening slightly on the armrest of his chair.
"We already had knowledge of her schedule," his father continued, completely at ease, as if discussing business strategies rather than a calculated act of destruction. "We knew exactly when she would be within the academy's walls. And the moment she was locked in, we made our move."
Trevor nodded slightly. It had been the perfect execution.
Kaya Hartley, one of the most dangerous individuals within her guild, had been neutralized without a single battle.
Not killed. Not injured. But made useless.
Instead of defending her guild, instead of leading counterattacks, she had been left watching helplessly from the sidelines, stuck within the academy while her family bled.
"And the chaos within the academy," his father added, tilting his head slightly, "was a brilliant touch."
Trevor smirked. "The fight between Emma and Ethan, plus the tension between the first and second years—it kept the faculty occupied. No time for them to interfere with what was happening outside."
His father chuckled, resting a hand under his chin. "It's beautiful, isn't it? A well-placed distraction is far more effective than brute force. Make them look left while you strike from the right. And you, my son, have done that well."
Trevor sat back, nodding slightly at the praise.
But then—his expression shifted.
The smirk faded. His jaw tightened. His fingers stilled against the armrest.
His father's eyes sharpened immediately.
"Something wrong?"
Trevor exhaled slowly before answering. "Yes."
His father studied him for a moment before leaning forward slightly. "Go on."
Trevor's eyes darkened. "There's someone I want to make disappear."
A moment of silence.
Then, his father's smirk returned—intrigued now.
"Oh?" He leaned back, raising an eyebrow. "And who might that be?"
Trevor's voice was steady, his tone cold and absolute.
"Astron Natusalune."
His father's expression didn't change immediately. He seemed to turn the name over in his mind, analyzing it, weighing it.
Trevor continued before his father could speak.
"He's… an anomaly," he said, his voice calm but carrying an undercurrent of something tighter, more personal. "He wasn't supposed to be anything. He was a nobody. But somehow, he keeps surviving."
His father exhaled through his nose, tapping a single finger against his chair. "And what has he done to warrant such special attention from you?"
Trevor's jaw clenched for just a second before he forced himself to stay composed. "It's not just me. He's been getting in the way of everything. No alliances. No political backing. And yet, he keeps slipping out of situations that should have crushed him."
His father hummed thoughtfully. "Interesting. And what's more interesting is that you, of all people, are this invested in his removal."
Trevor didn't react. He knew his father was testing him, trying to gauge whether this was emotional or strategic.
So he kept his voice measured. Controlled.
"He's unpredictable. He doesn't belong anywhere, and yet people keep gravitating toward him. And worst of all?" Trevor exhaled, his fingers tightening slightly.
"He's standing next to people he shouldn't be standing next to."
Ethan Hartley.
Maya Evergreen.
And worst of all—Irina Emberheart.
The names flashed through Trevor's mind, one after the other, like glaring mistakes in an otherwise perfect calculation.
His father watched him carefully, then gave a slow nod.
"Fine," he said, his tone smooth and deliberate. "I'll give you full authority over how you want to handle him. But Trevor—"
Trevor sat there, unmoving, as his father's gaze bore into him. The dim blue light from the holo-projection flickered, casting faint shadows across the walls of his room.
His father leaned forward slightly, his fingers steepled together. Calculating. Measuring.
"Are you certain?" he asked, his voice slow, deliberate. "Is this truly a strategic move… or are you acting out of personal frustration?"
Trevor's body tensed for a fraction of a second.
His father had always been like this. He didn't do emotions. Didn't entertain weakness. Everything had to be logical, precise, profitable.
If Trevor was making a personal move, rather than a tactical one, then this entire request would be seen as a waste.
And Trevor couldn't afford to waste.
He inhaled slowly, keeping his expression calm, his voice steady.
"He may be a threat," Trevor said, careful with his words.
"May be?" His father's gaze didn't waver. "You're uncertain."
Trevor's fingers curled slightly against the armrest. "He's unpredictable," he repeated. "He doesn't belong anywhere, yet people follow him. He's been at the center of too many incidents that should have buried him, yet he keeps coming back."
His father remained silent, watching him.
Trevor forced himself to continue. "He's… gaining influence. Not in the conventional way, not through politics or legacy, but through people. The ones around him aren't just nobodies. They're the type who can shift the balance of power if they choose to."
His father exhaled through his nose, his expression unreadable. "A nobody who has the potential to become a somebody is still nothing until they prove otherwise."
Trevor hated that answer.
Because it meant his father still wasn't convinced.
His father tilted his head slightly. "If you waste too much time and resources on this, you know what will happen."
Trevor's throat tightened.
He knew what that meant.
It was the same rule his father had always instilled in him since childhood.
A failure was tolerable.
A waste was not.
Chapter 916 - Politics (2)
Trevor exhaled sharply, forcing the tension from his hands before reaching for his communicator. His father's words still echoed in his mind, but now wasn't the time to hesitate. He needed to act. He needed to move fast.
The call connected within seconds.
A deep, almost lazy voice answered from the other side. "Took you long enough."
Trevor's lips curled into a smirk. "Busy day, Leontius?"
A soft chuckle. "Aren't they all?"
The screen flickered to life, and the holographic image of Leontius Vargras appeared before him.
Leontius Vargras. The eldest son of the Vargras family, one of the oldest bloodlines that had actively worked against the Pentagon Alliance—the union of the five ruling families that dominated political and military power.
Unlike the Hartleys or the Middleton, who played by the rules of the system, the Vargras family had made their position clear:
They wanted the old world back. A world where strength dictated power, not alliances.
For generations, the Vargras family had raised warriors, not politicians. They were known for their brutal training, their elite mercenary forces, and their unwavering rejection of modern aristocratic diplomacy.
Their motto had been the same for centuries:
"Only the strong decide."
Leontius himself was a perfect representation of his family's ideals.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, with a presence that commanded a room the second he walked in. His jet-black hair was loosely tied behind his back, revealing the sharp angles of his face. His golden eyes held an amused glint, but there was always something predatory beneath the surface—like a beast waiting for an excuse to strike.
Despite his family's reputation, Leontius wasn't reckless. He was methodical. Calculating. He had an easygoing exterior, but no one mistook that for weakness.
Trevor knew this because he had worked with Leontius before.
They both understood how the world really worked.
"You didn't call just to chat, did you?" Leontius mused, running a hand through his hair.
Trevor leaned forward slightly.
Trevor leaned forward slightly, his gaze steady as the pieces of his plan began falling into place.
"It's time," he murmured. "Set the plan in motion."
Leontius's golden eyes gleamed, a slow smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Finally," he drawled, stretching his arms above his head before resting them behind his neck. "I was starting to think you were holding back."
Trevor exhaled sharply. "I needed the right timing."
Leontius chuckled. "And now?"
Trevor's smirk turned sharper. "Now, the academy is a storm waiting to happen."
Leontius didn't argue with that. He knew it too.
The Academy was filled with tensions that had been simmering for too long. The structure of power was fraying, barely holding together. And Trevor?
Trevor was about to tear it apart.
"The Pentagon Families have been ruling unchallenged for too long," Trevor muttered. "It's time to remind them that they aren't the only ones with power."
Leontius hummed. "You sound a lot like my father when you say that."
Trevor smirked. "He's not wrong."
For years, the five ruling families of the Human Domain had held a tight grip on the political and military landscape.
The Hartleys, with their unrivaled spearmanship.
The Midletons, masters of swordsmanship.
The Emberhearts, hailing from Arcadia Dominion, born with devastating fire magic.
The Bravehearts, commanders of the Human Domain's military might.
The Thornhearts, their immense wealth and control over the Hunter industry keeping the entire economy in check.
Together, these five families formed the Pentagon Alliance, the cornerstone of Central's governance. Their unity had become the pillar of strength for humanity.
But things weren't always this way.
Before them, there were others—ruling families that had once stood at the pinnacle of human authority.
Families like the Vargras.
But they had been removed from the central, getting pushed back to outside and the border.
The Pentagon Alliance had taken everything from them. Their influence, their lands, their right to rule.
And the Vargras never forgot.
Especially not Leontius's father, who had spent decades waiting for the right moment to strike back.
And now?
That moment was here.
"You think the others will move if we start the fire?" Leontius asked, his voice casual, but the weight behind it was unmistakable.
Trevor smirked. "They won't have a choice."
This wasn't just about a personal grudge anymore.
There were many families—many factions—that had been waiting, watching, hoping for an opening.
The Vargras weren't alone in their hatred for the Pentagon Alliance.
There were others.
Families who had lost everything when the Pentagon rose to power.
Factions who had been forced into submission, their influence gradually eroded over time.
The Academy was a breeding ground for the next generation of leadership. The heirs of the Pentagon families were here. Their proteges, their future leaders—all gathered in one place.
If chaos took root here, if the foundations cracked from within, then the Pentagon's rule wouldn't last.
Leontius studied Trevor for a long moment, his golden eyes gleaming with something unreadable. Then, his smirk widened, slow and deliberate, as if he had been waiting for this very moment.
"If that's the case," he drawled, leaning back lazily, "then I have everything ready to strike Ethan Hartley."
Trevor's eyes sharpened slightly.
Leontius ran a hand through his dark hair, exhaling. "Adrian himself said he'd be taking Lilia Thornheart, but between you and me?" His lips curled, his tone dipping into something borderline amused. "I don't trust that bastard one bit."
Trevor scoffed. "Neither do I."
Adrian Castillo.
The captain of the Archery Club. A man with ambition, with a personal grudge against the Pentagon Alliance—but unlike the Vargras or Philips, his fight was his own.
His family didn't have the deep-rooted hatred that the Vargras did. They weren't a fallen ruling family, nor were they a family that had been directly exiled by the Pentagon's rise.
The Castillo family had once been a neutral faction, powerful in their own right, but never truly allied with the Pentagon.
And yet, Adrian had made his intentions clear.
His hatred wasn't for the entire Pentagon Alliance.
It was for Lilia Thornheart.
Trevor exhaled, his fingers drumming idly against his desk. "His cause isn't the same as ours," he muttered. "He's not in this for a grand movement, not for the fall of the Pentagon."
"He's in it for himself," Leontius finished, golden eyes narrowing slightly.
Trevor nodded. "But for now, our interests align."
Leontius chuckled, shaking his head. "You sound like my old man," he mused. "Allies of convenience. Temporary partnerships. Strings to be pulled and cut when needed."
Trevor's smirk didn't fade. "It's the only way to play the game."
Leontius exhaled through his nose, amused. "Still, if Adrian is serious about targeting Lilia Thornheart, then that works out just fine for us."
The Thornhearts were crucial to the Pentagon's control over the Hunter industry.
Their wealth kept everything moving—from the supply chains of dungeon cores to the development of next-generation artifacts.
Even outside the Pentagon, countless families were financially entangled with them.
If Lilia Thornheart was removed, the economic chaos alone would shake the foundation of the entire alliance.
Trevor exhaled, his expression darkening.
"And Ethan Hartley?"
Leontius smirked, stretching his arms. "Oh, don't worry. I have already a grasp of his weakness."
Trevor raised an eyebrow at Leontius's confident remark but didn't press for details. If Leontius already had a grasp on Ethan Hartley's weakness, then it meant he had something solid. And Trevor trusted Leontius—at least, as much as he could trust anyone.
Instead, he exhaled slowly, shifting his focus.
"And Julia Middleton?"
Leontius tapped a lazy rhythm against the armrest of his chair, golden eyes gleaming with amusement. "For now, we let the others breathe. There's no need to move too fast. We focus on what's in front of us."
Trevor nodded. It wasn't hesitation, just strategy.
The break before the Club Competitions was the perfect lull in the academy's routine. Students would be distracted, training, relaxing, or making their final adjustments before the high-profile event.
That meant less scrutiny.
It meant they could act without drawing too much attention.
"Ethan and Lilia," Trevor murmured. "Just targeting them alone is enough to make the first crack."
Leontius grinned, stretching his arms behind his head. "Exactly. If we play this right, we won't need to force the others into the mix. They'll drag themselves in."
Trevor exhaled, considering the timeline.
The Club Competitions were a big deal in the academy.
Not just for the students—but for the families watching.
These competitions weren't just games.
They were territorial disputes, fights for dominance—a way to establish standing within the next generation of elites.
Trevor smirked slightly. "Once the cracks form, the rest will fall into place naturally."
Leontius chuckled. "And by the time anyone realizes what's happening? It'll be too late."
Chapter 917- Politics (3)
The lesson carried on as usual, the instructor delving into advanced combat strategies and tactical formations. Most students were engaged—some more than others—but as the session stretched on, exhaustion began to settle in.
By the time the lecture neared its end, even some of the more attentive students were starting to space out.
The instructor, however, showed no sympathy.
"And that concludes today's lesson," he finally announced, closing his tablet with a decisive click.
A collective sigh of relief swept through the room, but it was short-lived.
"Before you leave," the instructor continued, his sharp gaze scanning the class, "I expect you all to complete the problem set by tomorrow. No exceptions."
The room filled with groans almost instantly.
Julia let her head fall onto her desk dramatically. "Oh, come on. We just survived a two-hour lecture."
Lucas looked equally pained. "Problem sets after all that? This guy has no heart."
Lilia didn't react much, but the faint exhale through her nose suggested she wasn't thrilled about it either.
Carl, of course, didn't so much as blink.
Irina sighed, stretching her arms. "Guess we don't have a choice."
Amidst the complaints and exhausted murmurs, Ethan leaned back slightly in his chair, flipping through the problem set on his tablet.
He didn't mind it.
If anything, he was actually enjoying this course.
The way the problems were structured, the way they forced him to think about combat from a different angle—it was fun.
Sure, some parts were tedious, but the challenge itself was something he welcomed.
While the rest of the class was still lamenting their workload, Ethan was already thinking about how he was going to approach the assignment.
Ethan stared at his tablet, but the words on the screen barely registered. His mind drifted elsewhere, weighed down by thoughts that had been gnawing at him all day.
The way his father had sounded on the call.
The way Azure Crest was being targeted so aggressively.
The way his family's influence was being pushed back.
None of it felt right.
Sure, Hartley had enemies—that was expected. But the sheer boldness of these recent moves? It was like someone had decided the usual rules no longer applied.
He exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple.
Maybe he just needed to clear his head.
His gaze flicked toward his smartwatch.
Jane.
He hadn't talked to her in a while. Things had been hectic, but still—she was someone who helped ground him.
Maybe a short conversation would help.
Without thinking much of it, Ethan tapped her name and waited as the call rang.
One ring.
Two rings.
Three—
The call picked up, but the moment Jane spoke, his stomach dropped.
Her voice was off.
Weak. Strained.
"...Oh, Ethan?"
Ethan's brows knitted together immediately.
Something wasn't right.
"Jane?" His voice sharpened. "What's wrong?"
There was a short pause, then a small laugh—forced.
"Nothing. Just… a little tired, I guess."
Ethan clenched his jaw. Liar.
Her breathing sounded uneven. There was a slight rasp to her voice, like someone trying to mask pain.
And Ethan knew better than to ignore it.
"Where are you?" His tone left no room for argument.
Jane hesitated. "Ethan, I—"
"Where."
Another pause. Then, finally, a quiet sigh.
"West dorm building. I'm in my room."
Ethan was already standing.
"I'm coming."
"Ethan, wait—"
Click.
He had already ended the call.
His heart was pounding, his body moving before his mind even finished processing.
He knew Jane had been bullied before. He had seen it firsthand.
And now, hearing her voice like that?
He didn't even want to think about what had happened.
He just knew one thing.
Whoever did this was going to regret it.
*****
Ethan moved fast. His steps were brisk, his mind running through possibilities as he made his way toward Jane's dorm. The west building wasn't far, but each second felt stretched, drawn out by the unease clawing at his chest.
He didn't even know what had happened yet.
But he knew enough.
Jane had been bullied before. He had seen it, had stopped it, had thought that maybe—just maybe—things had changed. But hearing her voice like that, weak and unsteady, told him all he needed to know.
When he finally reached her door, he didn't hesitate.
Knock. Knock.
A brief silence. Then, after a few seconds, the door cracked open.
Jane stood there, looking up at him with slightly widened eyes, as if she hadn't expected him to arrive so quickly.
And just as quickly, Ethan's gaze swept over her.
She wasn't in bad shape—not like he had feared. No visible blood, no bruises. Her breathing wasn't ragged anymore, and her posture, while a little slumped, wasn't pained.
She had taken a potion.
That much was clear.
But she still didn't look okay.
Her shoulders were tense, and there was something in her expression—something subdued.
Ethan felt his jaw tighten.
"...Hey," Jane said after a second, forcing a small smile. "You really didn't have to—"
Ethan stepped inside.
Jane blinked in surprise as he closed the door behind him, barely giving her time to react before he moved toward her.
"Sit," he said, his tone firmer than usual.
She frowned. "Ethan, I'm fine—"
"You don't look fine."
She let out a breath, shaking her head slightly, but didn't argue as she moved to sit on the edge of her bed. Ethan pulled over a chair, sitting across from her, eyes sharp and unwavering as he studied her expression.
The silence stretched.
Jane shifted under his gaze, her fingers absentmindedly toying with the hem of her sleeve. "I really am fine," she murmured, though there was a small weight to her words. "It was nothing serious."
Ethan's fingers drummed lightly against his knee, his expression unreadable. "Who was it?"
Jane flinched slightly at the directness of his question. "...What?"
"Who did this to you?" Ethan repeated, his voice calm, but there was something beneath it. Something unreadable, simmering beneath the surface.
Jane bit her lip, glancing away. "Ethan, you don't need to—"
"Jane."
His voice was steady, but firm.
She sighed, shoulders slumping slightly. "It's not like before," she said finally. "It wasn't as bad. Just a few people trying to mess with me a little. But I handled it."
Ethan's eyes narrowed slightly. "Mess with you?"
Jane exhaled, rubbing her forehead. "Just words. A little pushing. Nothing that won't heal."
Ethan leaned back slightly in his chair, his gaze still locked on her. "And you already used a potion?"
Jane hesitated. "...I just wanted to feel better quickly."
Ethan didn't respond right away. His mind was piecing things together, trying to figure out exactly what had happened.
Jane had always been the type to downplay things. She wouldn't have called him, wouldn't have let her voice sound off unless something had actually affected her.
And that was what made him uneasy.
She might have healed her body, but…
"You still don't look okay," Ethan said finally.
Jane's lips parted slightly, as if caught off guard by how easily he had seen through her. She looked down, her fingers gripping the fabric of her skirt tightly for a brief moment before she forced out a small chuckle.
"I guess I'm just… tired," she said, though her voice lacked conviction.
Ethan watched her carefully.
Then, without a word, he stood.
Jane blinked. "What—?"
He reached out and, before she could react, ruffled her hair lightly.
She froze.
"You should rest," Ethan said, his tone quieter now.
Jane didn't say anything, her face partially hidden beneath his hand as he tousled her already messy brown locks.
Ethan pulled back after a second, watching as Jane slowly lifted her gaze to meet his. There was something almost vulnerable in her expression—like she hadn't expected him to treat her like this, to see her past the forced smile.
"...You're not mad?" she asked softly.
Ethan sighed, leaning back into his chair. "I'm pissed."
Jane blinked.
"But not at you," he clarified. His hazel eyes glinted with something sharper. "At the people who keep thinking they can do this to you."
Jane swallowed, her fingers still loosely gripping her skirt.
"...Ethan," she started, but he shook his head.