The academy didn't announce the incident.
By morning, the shattered window was repaired. The cracked wall smoothed over. The corridor cleaned so thoroughly that it was as if nothing had happened.
That told me everything.
They were containing it.
I walked through the academy grounds like any other student, uniform neat, expression calm. Conversations still followed me—whispers, half-glances—but nothing unusual.
On the surface.
Inside, I was tracing threads.
Assassins didn't act without support.
And silence seals weren't cheap.
Someone powerful had decided I was a liability.
I met Ren and Doran near the training yard. Lena stood a little apart, eyes distant as usual—but sharper than before.
"You look terrible," Ren said cheerfully. "Rough night?"
"Something like that," I replied.
Lena's gaze flicked to my collarbone—where the assassin's blade had nearly landed.
"You were attacked," she said flatly.
Doran stiffened. "What?"
I didn't deny it. "Someone wanted me gone before rankings were announced."
Ren's smile faded. "That narrows it down. Only people who care about rankings… or politics."
"Both," I said.
We moved as a group toward the auxiliary archives—an old wing most first-years avoided. Lena slowed as we approached the threshold.
"This place remembers things," she murmured.
I glanced at her. "You've been here before."
She didn't answer.
Inside, the air felt heavier. Dust hung unmoving, as if time itself was cautious here. Rows of sealed records lined the walls—missions, expulsions, incidents erased from public history.
I focused, letting Despair Sense stretch—not for emotion, but residue.
There.
A faint echo.
Not fear.
Not rage.
Obedience.
"Found something," I said.
Behind a false shelf, we uncovered a hidden sigil burned into the stone. Old. Precise. Meant to be temporary.
Ren whistled. "That's a contractor mark."
Doran frowned. "Like… mercenaries?"
"Like deniable killers," Ren corrected.
I recognized it.
In my past life, that sigil had appeared at massacre sites—jobs no kingdom would ever admit ordering.
"The Black Veil," I said quietly.
Lena went still.
"…They're still active?" she asked.
"Very," I replied. "And expensive."
Which meant this wasn't a personal vendetta.
It was a test.
Someone wanted to see if I'd die quietly.
I clenched my fist.
"Who can authorize Black Veil operatives near the academy?" Doran asked.
Ren's eyes darkened. "Noble factions. Elder sponsors. External councils."
Lena finally spoke again. "Or people afraid of what's coming."
The air shifted.
She was looking at me now.
Not with fear.
With understanding.
Before I could respond, a bell rang—sharp, urgent.
An announcement echoed across the grounds.
"Attention all students. Academy rankings will be released at dusk."
Ren laughed softly. "Well. That answers timing."
I smiled faintly.
"They wanted me dead before tonight," I said. "Which means whatever those rankings show…"
I looked up at the academy towers, where elders watched from behind stone and wards.
"…they're going to make people uncomfortable."
The blade stirred.
"The hunter has been marked."
I walked away from the archives, steps steady.
Let them send assassins.
Let them hide behind factions.
Now that I knew who had moved—
I could start figuring out why.
And once I knew that—
I wouldn't wait for night again.