The rest of the academy day passed in a haze of staged exhaustion. In Physical Training class, Arian displayed the stamina of an old librarian, panting after a single lap and nearly dropping a training sword on his own foot. In History class, he managed to "accidentally" fall asleep, his head jerking awake with a bit of drool at the corner of his lips just as the lesson ended, earning him laughter from his classmates and a resigned shake of the head from the teacher.
Every failure was a small victory. Every jeer was another layer of protection.
When the final bell rang, Ceron shyly approached him. "Don't forget, Arian... the History of Transmutation homework for tomorrow." There was a new confidence in his voice, a flicker of genuine friendship.
"Of course!" Arian replied with a wide smile. "I'll bring my picture books."
Zaken threw an arm around both of them. "Good work today, guys! Who wants to head to the training hall for a few rounds of archery?"
"I need to rest," Arian said, yawning exaggeratedly. "All this 'learning' is exhausting."
"I... I have to go too," Ceron added, still a little awkward in a group.
They parted ways at the main junction. Zaken headed for the training grounds, Ceron to the library, and Arian strolled casually towards the Duke's Dormitory. His steps felt heavy, but this time it wasn't an act. Being Kayze drained him physically. Being Arian drained him mentally. He truly craved an hour of total peace before night fell and another mask had to be worn. He wanted to lie down on his comfortable bed, in his messy but safe room, and just be nobody for a little while.
He arrived at the thick oak door of his room. As usual, he began his little ritual. He raised his hand to cast the locking spell.
"Alohom...mora?" He frowned. The door didn't budge. "No, that's not it. Uhm... Abrete Sesamo?" He tried again. Still no result. He sighed, scratching his head, playing the part of the forgetful fool.
Inside, his sharp mind already sensed something was wrong. His locking spell, a unique Vallen magic formula, hadn't failed. It had been neutralized by a far more complex damping seal placed within the room. Someone was inside. Someone very powerful.
Maintaining a confused expression on his face, he tried a third time, this time deliberately channeling a bit more power, just enough to 'coincidentally' surpass the seal's threshold. "Alohomora!"
Click. The door opened.
"Ah, finally!" he said with relief, as if it were pure luck.
He pushed the door open, humming softly, ready to collapse onto his bed.
The scent hit him first.
It wasn't the smell of old books and unwashed clothes. It was the sharp, sweet, metallic scent of fresh blood.
Arian froze in the doorway. The scene was like a painting from a nightmare. His messy room was now the backdrop for a horrific scene. On his bed—his safe, comfortable bed—lay a body.
A young girl, perhaps his age. Her long blond hair, similar in color to his own, was now dull and matted, stained mostly dark crimson. Her clothes—a uniform he didn't recognize, white and gold, was now torn and soaked in blood.
Gaping wounds were visible on her arms and side, and every shallow, rapid breath she took seemed agonizing. Blood was pooling on his white sheets, creating a gruesome contrast.
Arian's mind split in two.
Arian the fool wanted to scream, panic, and run.
Kayze the analyst took over in a fraction of a second. Subject: female, approximate age 16-17. Condition: critical, massive blood loss, likely multiple broken bones and internal organ damage. Uniform: not from the academy or local nobility. Unfamiliar crest. Key Question: How did she bypass the Duke's Dormitory security systems, designed to repel an external assault? The damping seal on the door was high-level magic. This is no ordinary intruder. This is a trap, or... a desperate plea for help.
The girl moved.
The sound of the door opening had roused her from the brink of unconsciousness. With a speed and strength a dying person shouldn't possess, her head snapped towards Arian.
Her eyes opened. And they were on fire.
Not blue, green, or brown. They were glowing with an intense, supernatural pink light, like the core of a magic crystal. Within that light swirled hatred, pain, and overwhelming power.
"Who... are you?" she hissed, her voice hoarse and broken.
Before Arian could answer, the air in the room vibrated. Behind the girl, in thin air, dozens of magic circles materialized simultaneously. They were nothing like the simple elemental circles Arian had seen in class. These were impossibly complex diagrams, filled with sacred geometry, runes that pulsed with pink light, and symbols that seemed to relate to time, fate, and life itself. All of them were aimed directly at Arian, promising total annihilation.
Arian felt the raw power radiating from the circles. This... this is at least Name 3 level, maybe even higher. Enough power to vaporize the entire dormitory building.
He was trapped. To fight back would reveal his identity. Fleeing was unlikely to work; the projectile speed from those circles looked instantaneous. He needed a third option, a move so unexpected, so illogical, that it could break this standoff.
He needed a hilariously brilliant idea.
As one of the magic circles began to glow brighter, ready to fire, Arian's eyes widened in horror. His face went pale, and his mouth opened as if to scream.
The girl thought it was the fear of death. She was wrong.
Arian wasn't looking at the deadly magic circles. Nor was he looking at the girl's blazing pink eyes. His gaze was fixed on a single, thick drop of blood that was slowly coagulating at the edge of the bed, trembling, and about to fall to the floor.
Directly onto his beloved, fluffy, white wool carpet.
"NO!" Arian screamed, his voice cracking with the most genuine panic he had shown all day. "DON'T DRIP ON THE CARPET!"
In an instant, he shot forward. Not to attack. Not to defend. He made a desperate dive. He slid across the wooden floor, like a soldier dodging gunfire, and with a final, dramatic motion, he snatched the metal trash can from near his desk and placed it directly under the edge of the bed.
Drip.
The single drop of blood fell with a nearly inaudible 'plink' onto the bottom of the trash can.
Arian, now kneeling on the floor, hugged the trash can as if it were a holy artifact. He looked up at the girl on the bed, his eyes glassy with misplaced "terror."
"This carpet is an import from the Eastern Continent!" he wailed, his voice trembling. "It's hand-woven! My mother would cut off my allowance for a year if it got a bloodstain on it! It's worth more than my life!"
Total silence enveloped the room.
The girl froze. The magic circles behind her flickered. The cold, murderous intent she had gathered with the last vestiges of her strength wavered, then collapsed, replaced by an expression of the purest, most absolute confusion.
She had been prepared to fight an elite assassin, a grand mage, or an imperial knight. She was not prepared to face an idiot who seemed to care more about interior decorating than his own survival.
Her logic couldn't process this. The threat she had sensed moments ago had evaporated, replaced by the sheer absurdity of the situation. This person... couldn't possibly be dangerous. He was too stupid for that.
The energy she was using to maintain the dozens of magic circles finally gave out. One by one, they faded like ghosts, disappearing into thin air. The light in her eyes dimmed, returning to a softer pink, though still filled with pain. She coughed, a trickle of blood escaping the corner of her lips, and her tense body finally relaxed, sinking further into Arian's mattress.
She stared at the blond youth still kneeling on the floor, clutching a trash can as if it were the world's greatest treasure. She scanned Arian's messy appearance, his panicked but sincere expression about the carpet, and his magical aura, which felt... weak and unstable, like a failed Lumen.
She let out a shaky breath, pain and confusion at war within her.
"Oh..." her voice was weak, barely a whisper. "...are you the resident of this room?"
Arian looked up from his kneeling position, his eyes still showing deep "concern" for his carpet. He nodded earnestly.
"I am."
And with that single phrase, Arian's world of order, acting, and secrets had just been turned completely upside down. Because now, in the middle of his carefully arranged stage, there was a new actress. One who was bleeding, dying, and very, very powerful.
The silence in the room felt heavy, broken only by the sound of the girl's shallow breathing and the dripping of water from Arian's wet hair onto the wooden floor. The sheer absurdity of the situation hung in the air like a thick fog. A dying intruder capable of casting high-level magic was now staring at a foolish noble who had just saved a trash can from a bloodstain.
Arian slowly rose to his feet, placing the trash can respectfully beside the bed. His exaggerated panic about the carpet faded, replaced by a clumsy calmness. He looked at the girl, then at the pool of blood on his bed, then back at the girl. He sighed, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of the entire world.
"Ah..." he said softly, his voice no longer high-pitched with panic, but gentle and hesitant. "It's okay, just rest. Don't move too much. Wait a moment, alright?"
Without waiting for a reply, he turned around. His face, now hidden from the girl, was completely calm. His blue eyes, usually made to look naive, were now sharp and analytical. Kayze took over for a moment to assess the situation. The injuries are severe. Internal bleeding is likely. She needs a high-level healing potion, but I can't give her one. That would raise suspicion. Plan B: basic stabilization. Demonstrate competence at a 'diligent reader' level, not a 'field medic expert' level.
He moved around his room with newfound purpose. He opened a carved wooden chest in the corner of the room—a standard first-aid kit for a Duke's family. Its contents were far from standard. He took out a bottle of pale green antiseptic balm made from Lumina Herb extract, a plant that only grew on the highest mountain slopes. He retrieved a roll of bandages made from linen woven with thin silver threads, which had mild anti-infection properties. He also grabbed a small bottle of purified water from his desk drawer.
Then, he walked to the small cabinet where he kept snacks. He pulled out a bag of dried fruits—Sun Berries—known to quickly restore stamina, and a packet of high-quality instant meat broth commonly used by knights on long campaigns.
He placed all the items carefully on the bedside table, next to the girl. "I... I don't know how to heal magic-inflicted wounds," he said, returning to his clumsy Arian persona. "But I think this might help stop the bleeding and prevent infection."
The girl said nothing. Her wary pink eyes followed him, analyzing his every move. She was like a wounded wild animal, unable to fight but ready to bite if approached too closely.
Arian took a piece of clean cotton, pouring a little of the green balm onto it. He didn't try to touch the girl's wounds. Instead, he dabbed the balm on a small scratch on the back of his own hand. "It doesn't sting," he said softly. "And it should help the wound close faster."
He pushed the bottle of balm and the clean cotton gently towards her. It was an offer, not a command. An unexpected gesture of trust.
After a moment's hesitation, the girl slowly reached out with a trembling hand. She took the cotton and the balm. With a suppressed wince, she began to clean one of her less severe wounds on her arm. Her movements were slow and pained, but she did it with a precision that showed she was used to taking care of herself.
Arian watched her for a moment, then began to prepare the broth. He created a small, unstable Lumen flame (with two failed attempts, of course) to heat water in a metal cup, then dissolved the broth powder in it. A warm, savory aroma began to fill the room, slightly masking the smell of blood.
"You're surprisingly skilled," the girl's voice suddenly sounded, hoarse but clear.
Arian jumped in surprise, as if he had forgotten she could speak. He turned, scratching the back of his neck. "Ah... I just read a lot, I guess," he answered. "The medical books in the Vallen family library are quite comprehensive, though most of them are terribly boring. More pictures of internal organs than I'd ever want to see."
He placed the warm cup of broth on the table, close enough for the girl to reach. The girl stared at the broth, then at Arian. She seemed to be debating with herself, between her wariness and her body's desperate needs. Finally, hunger won. She carefully took the cup and began to sip it slowly. The warmth seemed to slightly loosen the tension in her shoulders.
Silence fell between them again as the girl ate and tended to her wounds. Arian didn't ask for her name. He didn't ask who was chasing her. He didn't ask how she got into his room. Instead, he asked a question only Arian would ask.
"Uhm... that uniform of yours," he said, pointing to the torn white and gold clothing. "The material is nice. Is that silk?"
The girl paused, staring at him as if he had just grown a second head. She didn't answer.
"And your hair," Arian continued, unfazed. "It's almost the same color as mine. Do you also use 'Golden Sun' brand shampoo? I heard it's good for keeping hair shiny."
The girl put down her cup of broth a little too hard. Enough was enough.
She had recovered a sliver of her strength. Enough to speak clearly. Enough to set the rules. She looked straight into Arian's blue eyes, and the pink glow in hers intensified slightly, carrying the remnants of her authority.
"I will be staying here for a while," she said, her voice cold and firm. "And don't you dare touch me." She paused, letting the threat sink in. "If you try anything strange, or tell anyone about me, I swear, your precious carpet will be the last thing in this world you'll worry about."
This was the moment. A direct threat. A statement of dominance from someone who, though wounded, was clearly far more powerful. She expected Arian to tremble in fear, or perhaps nod obediently.
She did not expect the reaction she got.
Arian's previously concerned, clumsy face suddenly transformed. His eyes widened, his eyebrows shot up, and his mouth fell slightly agape. But it wasn't an expression of fear. It was an expression of the purest and most personal shock and indignation.
"Touch you?" he repeated, his tone rising several octaves with disbelief. He placed both hands on his hips, a posture completely unsuited for the tense situation. "Miss, with all due respect to your... well, very bloody condition, have you looked in a mirror? You're covered in mud, dried blood, and I don't even want to guess what else is stuck to your clothes! I wouldn't even poke you with a stick! I just washed my hands three times with lemon soap after giving you those bandages!"
He took a step back, gesturing to the entire room with a dramatic sweep of his hand. "And you're going to stay here? In my palace of solitude? Look at this beautiful chaos! This isn't just a mess, it's an ecosystem! I know exactly where the third-century herbology scroll that's propping up my wobbly desk leg is! I know exactly which pile is for clean shirts and which is for shirts that are 'still wearable one more time'! Your presence will destroy the Zen balance of my laziness!"
The girl could only stare, utterly dumbfounded.
Arian wasn't finished. He pointed at the blood-stained sheets with a trembling finger of rage. "And this! Who is going to replace this? These are Ice Dragon Silk sheets! My mother gave them to me as a birthday present! Do you have any idea how hard it is to get bloodstains out of Ice Dragon Silk? You can't wash it with fire magic because it'll shrink! And water magic will leave a mark! It's a disaster!"
His passionate and completely misplaced rant finally came to an end. He stood in the middle of the room, panting, his chest heaving with indignation.
The silence that followed was even stranger than before. The girl, a powerful mage clearly on the run from deadly enemies, had just been lectured on laundry difficulties and messy interior design. Her threat and her intimidating aura had been completely stripped away, replaced by total confusion.
Arian let out a long sigh, as if he had just gotten a heavy weight off his chest. He ran his fingers through his hair and looked at the girl with a resigned expression.
"Fine," he said, his tone now that of a landlord dealing with a troublesome tenant. "You can stay. But there are rules. Rule number one, and this is non-negotiable: no more bleeding on the carpet. Rule number two: do not touch or rearrange my chaos. Rule number three: if you feel like you're going to die, please move your body near the window. The floor is wood, it's easier to clean."
Without waiting for an agreement, he turned, walked to his wardrobe, and began pulling out some spare blankets and a pillow. He threw them into a corner of the room farthest from the bed.
"I'll sleep on the floor," he muttered, more to himself. "Just brilliant. My own dorm room feels like a refugee camp. The standards of hygiene are dropping drastically. A guest with no manners whatsoever."
The girl could only lie on the bed, watching this bizarre youth prepare a makeshift bed for himself while continuously grumbling about stains and dust. The pain from her wounds was still there, but now a new feeling was mixed in with it. A very strange feeling. She had come here looking for a hideout, and it seemed she had found one. However, she had a feeling that the greatest danger in this room might not be the enemy chasing her, but the sanity of her new and very, very strange roommate.