It would've been stranger if Yvonne had acted completely unfazed after hearing that name.
So, when the Sacred Beast Summoning class wrapped up and everyone filed out of the hall toward their next lecture, she seemed… off.
I told myself it was just her usual bias against me—but the longer the day went on, the clearer it became. Every time a break rolled around and I tried to approach, she'd give me the quickest of glances before slipping away somewhere else.
I sat at my desk, smirking to myself. Yeah… the whole "Yvonne equals Leon" theory still felt absurd, but that name had definitely rattled her.
And when the time was right, I'd make her cough up every answer she was hiding.
"…don't forget to finish the assignment I gave you. I'll be collecting it the day after tomorrow." Jacqueline's voice carried over the shuffle of bags and books as he stacked several tomes of magical history on her desk.
The rest of the class took that as their cue to leave.
"And… Mr. Maggaelheis."
The moment my name left his mouth, I could feel every gaze swing toward me.
Same as always—half amusement, half mockery, and the rest good old-fashioned disdain.
"…your grades have been slipping this past month. I'd like to discuss it after class today. Please come by my office."
With that, Jacqueline left the classroom—still full of people staring at me with thinly veiled contempt. Of course, none of them were stupid enough to openly insult me.
Sure, I was a so-called "fake genius," but that didn't erase the fact that I was still the heir to the prestigious Maggaelheis.
But if there was one thing that actually got under my skin, it was how blatantly Jacqueline had acted.
So, once the hallway had quieted down enough, and after making sure I wouldn't look too compliant—which might raise unnecessary suspicion—I changed into more casual clothes and made my way to Jacqueline's office.
Jacqueline held a rather important position at the academy. Aside from being a professor of magical history, his success as a dealer of ancient artifacts had earned him the post of Vice Dean of Finance.
His office wasn't some cramped room in the Knowledge Wing.
It was a separate building—almost the size of a small inn—tucked not far from the dormitories.
The kind of place big enough for private meetings. Big enough to hide the wrong kind of conversations.
When I reached its massive mahogany door, I didn't bother knocking.
Inside, the decor was classically styled—ulin wood walls, brown sofas that blended perfectly with the warm atmosphere, all positioned around a glass-top table holding a vase and several pieces of fine tea service.
And sitting there… was Jacqueline.
He didn't look surprised—or even mildly annoyed—at my unannounced arrival.
"Tea, my lord?" he asked politely, lifting the cup in his hand.
I shut the door with a dry snort. "We need to talk about the way you send messages in public."
"Messages?" His brow lifted.
"Yes. Calling me out like that—don't you think it looks suspicious?"
"I was simply making sure you remembered today's importance."
"And you couldn't do it more discreetly?"
"It would have been more suspicious if I'd approached you and whispered it in your ear," Jacqueline countered calmly.
Annoyingly… he wasn't entirely wrong. "Still, you could've been a bit more subtle. Like—"
"Oh? What's this? Is our mighty Havel getting cold feet?"
The voice came from my right—from someone now lounging in Jacqueline's desk chair.
The man who had led the cheap opening act during the Sacred Beast Summoning practice.
The man known as the Wizard of a Thousand Faces.
A professor specializing in transfiguration—Jonathan Mistway.
Now wearing the face of the green-haired youth from that act, he smirked. "Don't tell me shacking up with her for a week has softened your resolve. I thought the Maggaelheis name carried more backbone than that."
Jacqueline shot me a concerned glance. "Lord Maggaelheis, I must remind you—Yvonne D'Arville is dangerous. This is bigger than any of us. She must be eliminated by any means necessary."
"Hah… sounds like our glorious leader's about to turn traitor," came another voice from behind me.
I turned sharply.
A student—shorter than me, but a year older—leaned lazily against the doorframe. His black hair was an untamed mess, his smile thin and sharp.
Ethan Scoffield. A genius obsessed with potions and talismans. While his grades were near-perfect, everyone kept their distance due to his unsettling and sometimes outright disgusting tendencies.
Everyone except one.
"You judge too quickly," said the man stepping in behind him. Shoulder-length hair framed his calm, lavender eyes—eyes that perfectly hid all the cruelty buried within.
A master negotiator in the black market and the academy's golden boy.
The Student Council President—Mahessa Braun. "Lord Havel's a perfectionist after all," Mahessa said, smiling like the devil in silk. "He's just making sure this doesn't fall apart over a small detail. Right?"
The truth was, everyone around me was dangerous.
A master of deception. A lunatic. A charming sociopath. A businessman who doubled as a hired killer.
So, doubt wasn't an option. Not here.
"You're late," I said flatly. "And I told you—always use the backdoor."
It was risky, actually. Ethan could attack me here simply because he disliked my tone. And Mahessa—well, he could just as easily slip poison into my drink or destroy me socially.
But neither happened. At least for now.
Ethan only scowled. Mahessa chuckled, scratching his neck. "Ah, yeah… we thought this was faster. Won't happen again, promise."
"Enough stalling," Jonathan said, still sounding annoyed. "What did you mean by 'change of plans'? You're not thinking of scrapping everything we've done for the past month, are you?"
The "plan" in question involved planting our people in the academy's security staff, hiring multiple bands of mercenaries willing to cause chaos for the right price, and conducting human experiments to create weapons of mass destruction.
They all stared, waiting for my answer.
I leaned back into the sofa, making a show of being perfectly at ease. "No. Just a little adjustments."
I poured myself tea, letting the words sink in. "Yvonne is stronger than I thought."
Mahessa raised a hand. "Want me to hire someone stronger, then?"
"No. No matter how strong they are, they wouldn't even come close. Not even if we outnumber her."
"I assume this is the part where you unveil your brilliant solution. If you have one…" Jonathan smirked, shrugging.
I glanced at him. I already knew nobody here saw me as the true leader, but Jonathan in particular seemed to respect me the least.
Which meant… I needed to watch him even more closely
"I do," I said. "An item. The rare one. Something that can make anyone who use it could rival her strength—even alone."
Mahessa's grin sharpened. "If it's an item, than Ethan could easily—"
"You think a knock-off will cut it?" I cut him off. "This is something that exists in only one place on top of that. So no one would ever truly know the detailed blueprint, let alone duplicate it."
Jonathan's smirk faltered as he caught my meaning. "…you can't be serious."
I took a slow sip of tea. "It's hidden in the Secret Library."