The next day, the academy declared an official day off.
The reason was obvious—at least to those of us who actually knew. The infiltration, the chaos, the near-disaster.
But the rest of the student body? They were kept blissfully ignorant.
The academy's official excuse was as neat as it was hollow: all instructors and senior staff were supposedly summoned for an urgent administrative meeting.
Curriculum changes, resource allocation, blah blah policy review. The kind of bureaucratic nonsense no student cared enough to question.
Behind those closed doors, however, they weren't adjusting timetables. They were tearing their hair out. How had the infiltrators gotten in? How much damage had been done? How fast could they smother the truth before it leaked into the public?
The explosion made cover-up harder. Lucas—always the star—had left too big a mark. A blast like that rattles walls, rattles nerves. Plenty of students heard it. But again, the academy had a story ready: the main power station had suffered a sudden overload due to "poor maintenance." A little embarrassing, sure, but believable enough. People would rather laugh at faulty wiring than imagine masked men storming their dorms.
And laugh they did. In the cafeteria, I overheard one idiot comparing it to a firework show gone wrong. Another girl wondered aloud if the academy had cheaped out on electricians. Convenient lies spread fast.
Meanwhile, the most oblivious group of all—the girls of Liliane Hall—slept through everything. Literally. The crystalline powder the infiltrators had used left them out cold, snoring like drugged pandas while blades clashed and blood spilled just outside their door. They woke with puffy eyes and morning gossip about hairstyles, never realizing how close they had been to chains and kidnappers.
A few sharp-eyed students still frowned at the tension in the air. They caught how the instructors' voices were too clipped, their smiles too tight. But even those curious ones wouldn't get answers. The academy was already in full lockdown, its walls built from silence and half-truths.
And like always, the silence would win.
"So, Evan, what do you make of all the stuff?"
"Hmm? About what stuff?" I asked Ryan, tearing off a piece of bread from my tray.
"You know—the big meeting, the 'power station blast,' this sudden Sunday off." He leaned closer like we were co-conspirators. "Feels fishy to me. What do you think the academy's hiding?"
I chewed slowly, staring at him until he started squirming. "Hmm, who knows, man. I'm not the type to turn small matters into big ones. I've got better things to waste my time on."
Ryan groaned and slumped back in his seat. "You're impossible! Everyone else is theorizing about assassins, secret dungeons, or some crazy coup, and here you are acting like a grandpa after dinner."
I smirked faintly. "What can I say? I'm a late bloomer. Suspicion isn't really my hobby."
"Late bloomer my ass," Ryan snorted. "You're just boring. Don't you want to at least pretend you're curious? C'mon, throw me a wild guess. Make my day."
I leaned back, folding my arms. "Fine. Maybe… the cafeteria's been serving mystery meat for weeks, and now the academy's bracing for a lawsuit."
Ryan barked a laugh loud enough to turn heads. "Pfft! You really are hopeless."
I shrugged, but my mind wasn't anywhere near cafeteria jokes.
Two lessons had been hammered into me last night: First, my luck is completely fucked. Whenever I tried anything out of the box, it was destined to get messed up. I don't think I need another attempt to confirm that.
And second, I absolutely cannot kill any main character. I killed Emilia in a fit of pique—time reversed. I killed Seraphina, the main heroine—time reversed. The result is the same.
So, if a situation goes around where I continue to mess with Lucas—the protagonist—I can't kill him. But the terrifying unknown: Can he kill me?
I really don't want to test that.
"What are you zoning out for, man?" Ryan nudged me with his elbow.
"Nothing," I lied smoothly. "Just that my father summoned me back to the estate. Gotta leave for a bit."
Ryan blinked. "Whoa, that serious? What happened?"
"Personal matter." I stabbed at my food casually. "I'll be gone a day or two. Don't throw a party while I'm away."
Ryan grinned. "Oh, don't worry. You'll miss you more than I will."
"Confident words for someone who still owes me lunch money."
"Tch. Petty noble."
I was about to retort when someone crashed hard into my shoulder.
"Ouch!" the voice yelped.
I turned, and there she was—a girl in a familiar hoodie. My eyes narrowed. "Hey… don't I know you?"
Her gaze snapped to mine, recognition flickered, and she gasped audibly. Without a word, she bolted, weaving through tables like her life depended on it.
Ryan gawked. "…What the hell was that? Did you just—molest her with eye contact or something?"
"Excuse me?!" I shot back.
"I mean, why else would she run like that?"
"That's what I want to know," I muttered, already piecing it together. "Wait. Ryan, isn't she the one who bumped into me in the hallway last time?"
Ryan scratched his chin, squinting as if recalling. "Huh… yeah. Same hoodie. Same frantic energy."
"You said she looked like she was from the alchemy department, right?"
"I guessed that from her outfit. Alchemists always look weird."
"Should we check?" I asked, already pushing my tray aside. "See why Miss Bumps-In thinks I'm the plague?"
Ryan raised a brow. "Or—and hear me out—you did something to her and forgot. Happens with you, doesn't it?"
I sighed. "I mostly only bullied Lucas. And right now, I'm a good man, remember?"
Ryan nearly spat his drink. "You? A good man? That's the funniest thing you've said all week."
"Fuck you. Anyway, you coming or not?"
He shook his head quickly. "Nah. My brother needs me in the Student Council office. Said something about paperwork."
I tilted my head. "Right, your brother's in the Council. No wonder you get away with skipping half your assignments."
Ryan grinned slyly. "Perks of family connections. Unlike some, I don't need to pretend to be a saint to cover my ass."
"Keep talking. I'll enjoy watching when that connection finally screws you over."
"Big words from the guy who scares off girls by blinking."
I rolled my eyes, standing up. "Later, Ryan."
"Try not to traumatize anyone else before dinner," he called after me.
-----
I cut around the west wing, heading for the Philosophy Wing and its unfortunate neighbor: the Alchemy Building.
The moment I stepped in, the air hit me like a wall—sharp, chemical, and slightly sweet, with faint smoke curling from vents. Students scurried everywhere, clutching glass vials, flasks, and notes like their lives depended on it. Some looked half-dead from sleepless nights, others moved with obsessive calm. If I had to describe the scene in a single word—no offense intended—it was nerdy.
I snagged the sleeve of a guy rushing past me. His arms were full of bubbling beakers, and his hair was sticking out like he'd been electrocuted.
"Hey, hold up a second."
"Oi! What are you doing?" he yelped, nearly spilling a flask on my shoes. "If I don't get back right now, my catalyst will destabilize and blow up my entire bench!"
"Relax," I said, releasing him before he had a heart attack. "Your potion will still be ugly five minutes from now. I just need some info."
He blinked at me like I'd grown horns. "You stopped me in the middle of a reaction for info?"
"Yeah. I'm looking for someone. A girl—short, wears a hoodie with her uniform."
The guy groaned. "Wow, stellar description. That narrows it down to… maybe a hundred people?"
I smirked. "Pretty sure you know who I mean."
He hesitated, then his eyes widened. "Wait. Hoodie girl? Oh—Maria Frost. Yeah, there's only one freak like that here. First-year alchemist. Kinda famous in the department."
"Famous?"
"Yeah. Genius with potions, zero people skills. Half the time she doesn't even show up to group labs. Always holed up in her private room. Strange you don't know her, actually. Everyone does."
"Haha. Well, let's just say from today, I'll know her much better. Where can I find her?"
He huffed, shifting the glassware in his arms. "Like I said—her private lab. She doesn't open up for anyone, though. Unless you're lucky, you'll be knocking on a locked door all day."
"Oh, don't worry," I said with a thin smile. "She'll open it for me. She'll even welcome me in."
The poor guy gave me a confused look, then gasped. "Oh shit—the catalyst! I told you I didn't have time!" He bolted down the hall like his pants were on fire, swearing under his breath.
I watched him vanish into a cloud of vapor and sighed. "Alchemists. Even nerdier than I imagined."