December passed sweetly and soon it was January, the time of hair loss due to examinations.
By the end of the term, Eli's desk was buried under political theory notes and historical timelines that needed memorising. Mathematics, on the other hand, had become his safest problem.
Not because it was difficult on the contrary it was because it wasn't.
The real difficulty lay elsewhere.
The original owner of this body had never been good at studying. His grades hovered in the middle range, occasionally dipping lower. Eli knew that if he suddenly started topping the class, it would draw attention he didn't want. Teachers noticed patterns. Sudden jumps would imvite questions he did not want.
So Roman's "private tutoring" was placed back into the schedule.
It gave him cover.
The library became their regular spot. It was quiet, warm, and predictable, perfect for pretending to struggle.
