But he shrugged it off. He didn't see anyone. Although, he could feel something.
As Wesley stepped out into the courtyard near the southern wing of the academy, he paused.
There it was again.
Something itched at the back of his neck. That uncomfortable sensation—like unseen eyes boring into his skin—sent a chill down his spine.
He turned slowly.
Standing casually, leaning against one of the stone columns like they'd been waiting for him all this time, were a group of boys.
All of them wore the signature uniform of Instructor Heiron's elite class. Robes pristine. Collars stiff.
Their boots were polished, their hair perfectly parted, their postures straight like the etiquette masters beat them into noble form.
"Hey, Janitor," the tallest one said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
Wesley blinked. "...Hello?"
Another boy stepped forward and offered a small bow that felt more like a mockery than respect. "We meet again. Janitor Wesley, right?"
