[The next day.]
As the morning came, so did my urge to get the fuck out of the infirmary.
Yeah, man, this place felt crueler than a prison cell.
Anyway, results were announced. And honestly? No one gave a shit.
Not a single soul excited to see them. The classroom looked half-dead—most students still stuck in the infirmary, the rest sulking like their dog just died.
But let's get to the juicy part—the test results.
Turns out it wasn't just my group that got unlucky. Every damn group had their "surprise package." Chimera, Black Lily Spider, Troll, Night Wolf—you name it, some poor bastard fought it.
And the kicker? Those beasts weren't even at full strength. Academy had slapped restraints on them. Meaning… we fought nerfed versions.
Our morale? Already on the floor. That revelation buried it six feet under.
So, the results:
First place: Lady Shiny Barbie herself—Catherine Winterbourne, Group 23. No surprise there.
Second: My buddy Ryan Sterling, Group 12. Didn't expect that one, but good on him.
Third & Fourth: Group 27 and Group 3, led by Atlas Whime and Johan Black. Whatever.
Fifth: Aldric Sunstrider's team. Yeah, that smug bastard made it, even though their "hero" Lucas is still drooling in the infirmary.
Sixth: …drumroll… my team. Group 9. Led by yours truly, the one and only, handsome young master Evan Ravenshade.
I just stared at the board.
…
Did that motherfucker Brandt Stoneborn seriously rank me below Aldric?
"Is that old fuck doing this on purpose?" I spat under my breath.
"Well then—congratulations, Brandt Fuckborn. You've officially earned a spot on the list of people the great me wants to kill one day."
"What are you mumbling about?"
I turned and saw the owner of the voice—pretty face, sharp blue eyes, and that ridiculous blue hair. Ryan.
"Well, seeing the results and all, and just muttering without a thought."
"Oh, okay, so you finally noticed my greatness in the test," Ryan said with a smug grin, pointing to the second place on the board.
"I didn't see any greatness," I shot back. "But I did notice that hole in your teeth healed. Must've prayed real hard to the healers for that, huh?"
His grin froze. "…Did you really have to bring that up?"
"And did you really have to brag about your position on the test?"
That shut him up. Argument over, just like that.
"Anyway," I continued, "what I am curious about—how the hell did your group land in second place? I get that you and Group 23 handled the Black Lily Spider, sure, but there's got to be more to it. What's the catch?"
"There's no catch!" Ryan puffed his chest. "I, the brave and courageous, alongside my group, faced the foe head-on. Unexpected, overwhelming—but we fought with valor and conviction! Simple as that. And then that lady of Winterbourne swoops in and steals my credit."
I raised a brow. "Yeah, no one's buying that crap. Just spill it, or I'll go ask Catherine myself. And while you're at it, repeat what you just said—nice and clear."
Ryan clicked his tongue, deflating. "Okay, okay, chill, man! Fine. Here's the truth. While my group was out hunting, we ended up completely isolated. Monsters on one side, no other groups in sight. Took a while before we crossed paths with anyone else… and, well, you can probably guess who. Group 23. Led by the duke's oh-so-perfect daughter, Catherine Winterbourne."
"Then, as both our groups tried to piece together what the hell was going on—boom. Out of nowhere, that giant hairy freak shows up. The damn spider." Ryan shuddered. "We all panicked when we saw it, but Lady Winterbourne? She was calm. Too calm. Like it was just another monster on a checklist."
"She gave out formation orders, kept her ground, didn't flinch. At first, we hesitated… but the way she spoke—like she already had the whole thing mapped out—it got under our skin. Before we knew it, we were moving like clockwork. And suddenly, there was a path to victory."
I narrowed my eyes. "From what you're saying, it almost sounds like she knew what was coming in that test."
Ryan grimaced, scratching his cheek. "…Yeah. That's what I felt at that time."
"Hmmm."
We talked as we made our way down the hallway, Ryan's words still buzzing in my head. I didn't even bother to cut him off this time—I just listened, letting the pieces fall into place.
Something stinks.
I haven't read much of this novel, but I do remember the early heroines—Emilia, Seraphina. They were the ones meant to stand in the spotlight, not Catherine.
And definitely not this early. Yet here she is, shining brighter than anyone else, like the story itself bent over for her.
As that thought sank in, something slammed into my side.
"—Aaah!"
A sharp yelp, feminine, followed by the thud of books scattering across the marble floor.
I blinked down and saw her—a girl in a hood, crouched and flustered, scrambling to gather the fallen pages.
"What's with her? People these days—clumsy as hell," Ryan muttered.
"Hah, what can I say, man…" I bent down, scooping up some of her scattered pages. "Hey, lady—you need a hand? Or maybe a sorry first, since you're the one who bumped into me?"
"So—sorry, I just… I was just on my way quickly, so—"
Her words cut off. Her hood slipped back just enough for our eyes to meet.
I tilted my head. "…What, not gonna finish the sentence? Or did my handsomeness enchant you?"
She didn't answer. Instead, she snatched the last of her books, shoved them into her arms, and bolted down the hall like her life depended on it.
"…What the hell was that about? Why's she running like that?" I muttered.
Ryan shrugged. "Dunno. Don't think you bullied her or anything. You usually only bully one person."
I clicked my tongue, but the look on her face stuck with me.
I've seen her somewhere before. I'm sure of it.
"Hey, Ryan. You know her? The one in the hoodie?"
He rubbed his chin. "Hmm… probably from the alchemy batch or something. Looked like the nerdy type."
"Yeah, whatever." I brushed it off and kept walking.
We made it a few steps before Ryan suddenly spoke up again.
"Hey, Evan. There's something I've been meaning to ask for a long time."
"What?"
"Well… you know how if you force yourself on someone, it's a crime, right?"
"…One way to put it, yeah."
"Right, right. So then…" He leaned closer, dead serious. "When we masturbate… aren't we technically raping ourselves?"
I froze. My brain just… stopped.
"…That's the dumbest shit I've ever heard." I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Fine. That's the question of the day."
And after that, our usual shit continued.
----
--
While students buried themselves in lectures and drills, the academy staff were just as busy.
A new order of mana lamps had just arrived, and the paperwork was being signed off.
"So that's the full list of deliveries, right? Everything accounted for?"
The academy's logistics manager, a man with a perpetually tired face and a pristine clipboard, squinted at the manifest.
He ran a finger down the column of items, a small, meticulous detail that gave the leader of the crew a quiet satisfaction.
"Yes, sir. Not a single item missing. You can check the manifests yourself."
"Good. And the installation?"
"We'll begin this afternoon."
The order was routine enough—mana lamps, maintenance parts, the usual checks to keep the academy humming without hiccups.
The hum was the sound of a fragile, well-oiled peace, and their job was to slip a wrench into its gears.
The leader, whose real name was a ghost he'd long since shed, felt the familiar pull of the masquerade as he picked up a ladder.
Except, not all of them were what they seemed.
"Leader," one of the so-called technicians muttered under his breath, his hands fumbling with a delicate bracket.
The metal was cold against his calloused, unpracticed fingers, and his face was tight with frustration. "Do we really gotta do this manual crap? Is this what we came here for?"
The man above him, balancing on the ladder, shot him a withering glare that could have soured milk.
The leader was all coiled muscle and quiet rage, and his voice was a low growl that only the other man could hear. "What the fuck do you expect me to do, huh? Announce, 'Hey, we're not technicians, we're an evil organization's lackeys here to stir up shit 'cause we got bored'? You want the guards to clap us in irons right away?"
The lackey winced, his bravado melting under the leader's stare. "No, no. I just mean… this feels too low. Too menial for us."
The leader scoffed, a dry, humorless sound. "Tch. Shut it and keep screwing that bolt in. Play the part or we're fucked. Remember, the real work starts after this."
After that, they slipped into their roles like seasoned professionals, their hands steady, their voices calm.
To anyone watching, they were nothing more than hired workers, a quiet part of the academy's silent machinery.
The day bled on, the sun dipping beneath the horizon and painting the sky in strokes of bruised purple and gold. By the time the last light had faded, their routine still hadn't ended.
"Fuck…" one of them groaned, rolling his sore shoulders..
"Never thought simple work could be this damn tiresome."
"Quit whining," the leader snapped, his voice as thick and heavy as his arms. He glanced over the neat rows of replaced mana lamps, each one a small, silent testament to their masquerade.
The new lamps hummed with a clean, steady light that was a cold, sharp contrast to the dirty work that had brought them here.
"Halfway done. Dorms and wardrooms are left. We'll finish those tomorrow."
He grabbed a dented flask from his bag, the metal cold against his palm, and took a long swig of cheap whiskey before passing it along. The others took turns, their throats burning with a familiar fire that dulled the weariness in their bones.
They pushed off the academy grounds, leaving the warm glow of the mana lamps behind, and slunk into a shabby dormway where the real workers crashed.
The air inside smelled of stale sweat, machine oil, and unwashed bodies; couches sagged under figures too tired to care.
The door shut with a heavy click, and they collapsed onto the nearest sofa like their bones had been replaced with jelly.
"Motherfucker, I'm beat," one of them breathed, stretching limbs that complained with every movement, a symphony of pops and groans.
"You don't get to complain," the leader grunted, grabbing a bottle from a crate and taking a long pull. "We're already working. Passing security, playing the techs, that was all part of the job."
The newbie blinked, his voice small and eager. "When does the real work start?"
A few low chuckles rolled around the room, the sound a mix of weary amusement and cruel anticipation.
"Sunday," someone said, their voice rough with exhaustion. "Academy's off. That's when we move."
The others leaned in, their faces illuminated by a single flickering candle, their eyes wide and expectant. This was the part they'd been waiting for—the reason for the aching muscles and the calloused hands.
"What's the task?" the kid pressed, his eyes fixed on the leader.
The leader set the bottle down with a thud and smiled without warmth, a cold and unsettling expression that didn't reach his eyes. "Create a distraction. Cause a disturbance big enough to throw the capital into a panic. Then…we take her."
The word came out quiet, almost a whisper, like a prayer or a curse: "Kidnap."
The air grew still, heavy with unspoken tension. "We're taking the elven princess—Seraphina Sylwen Faeloria. That one."
A ripple of low whistles and quiet agreement.
The leader's eyes glittered with a predatory hunger. "Why her?" the newbie asked, a thread of confusion in his voice.
"Because she's a symbol," another man spat, his voice laced with a deep and bitter resentment. "She's the fragile peace between our races. The court paraded her here to show trust, to glue two worlds together. But trust isn't real. Not to them. Not to us. Hit the symbol, and the whole thing frays."
They all nodded, their faces hardening, a mirror of shared pain and anger. For most of them, this wasn't about the money. It was a political grenade, a plan meticulously crafted to shatter a false peace and let the pieces fall where they may.
They had been victims of the old world; now, they would be the ones to burn it down.
"Sunday," the leader repeated, his voice a low, final command. "We create the chaos. We take her. We let the capital choke on the fallout."
He drained his bottle, the last drop of whiskey a bitter farewell, and looked around the room.
"You ready to burn a bridge for pay?"
Silence answered him. Not because any of them were unsure—but because most of them had already been burned once, and the fire taught more than fear ever did.
It taught them to be patient.
It taught them to be cold. It taught them that some bridges, once crossed, were better off in ashes.
They settled into the quiet, the plan sitting in the air between the smell of whiskey and the dull hum of the city.
Outside, the academy lights flickered, a pale and fragile guard against the coming storm.
_____
Author's Note:
Hello dear readers! ✨
I've just updated the chapter that I accidentally uploaded earlier. Instead of removing it, I decided to turn it into a short chapter that explains the power system a little — not too detailed, but enough to give you a clearer picture( chapter name power system). If you're interested, feel free to check it out!