Chapter 47
A dimly lit room.
Shadows swayed softly on the cracked walls, dancing to the creak of an old rocking chair. The only sound, aside from the faint hum of medical equipment, was the slow, mechanical tap of fingers on a tablet screen.
Vice Principal Raiklan sat in that chair, silent, his expression unreadable.
In front of him, a bed. On it, Kael Arkzen—wrapped in bandages from shoulder to thigh. His chest barely rose beneath the linens.
Until, at last, his eyes fluttered open.
"…Hello, VP," Kael croaked, voice like parchment tearing.
Raiklan looked up. His face remained stone-cold, but something flickered in his gaze. Relief.
"So," he said, voice quiet but sharp, "you finally feel like speaking."
Kael tried to sit up. Pain burned down his ribs, and he gasped, leaning against the headboard with a wince. "I'm… fine. The kids… how are they?"
Raiklan's jaw tightened. "Alive. Because someone else saved them."
Kael looked down. "I… I'm sorry."
