Kaelan did not react immediately.
His expression remained still, unreadable, the dim light of the office casting sharp shadows over his face. He neither tensed nor relaxed, neither rejected nor acknowledged the professor's words.
But inside—his mind surged.
Vice Principal.
The thought landed like a stone in water, sending ripples through his carefully constructed composure. The first emotion to surface was confusion—sharp and fleeting, as if he had misheard. Then came surprise, an uninvited pulse of realization that this was not a mere discussion but a decision already in motion. And finally—acceptance—not in surrender, but in cold, calculating understanding.
It all happened in the span of a breath.
The academy was moving fast. Too fast. A position like this wasn't offered lightly, not to someone like him. It was not a courtesy, not a reward—it was control. It was influence. It was a gamble.
They wanted to cement his authority, remove any ambiguity about his role. And perhaps, more importantly, they wanted to bind him to them.
Kaelan slowly leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping once against the armrest before going still. His eyes—cool and assessing—studied Thalor. The professor had delivered the proposal well, measured and efficient, yet Kaelan could still detect the underlying weight in his voice. This was not just an announcement. It was an attempt to gauge his reaction.
And that meant…
They weren't sure how he'd respond.
Interesting.
Kaelan exhaled softly, barely audible. Then, finally, he spoke.
"…I see."
Two simple words, delivered with neither acceptance nor denial. A controlled pause followed.
The professor remained silent, waiting.
Kaelan's gaze drifted slightly—not in distraction, but in thought. His mind moved quickly, dissecting the situation piece by piece.
The academy had already decided. They would willfully remove the Vice Principal, reshaping their hierarchy with him at its center. That meant, one way or another, this change was happening. If he refused, they would find another way to solidify his presence. If he accepted, he would gain leverage—but also responsibility.
The weight of a name.
Another pause.
Then, Kaelan's fingers stopped tapping. His gaze refocused on Thalor, his voice steady as he spoke once more.
"…And they expect me to accept this without question?"
Not a refusal. Not an agreement. A probe. A challenge.
His expression had not shifted once, but his words carried weight.
Professor Thalor's lips parted, but for the first time in this conversation, he hesitated. It was brief—so brief that most wouldn't have noticed—but Kaelan wasn't most people. The professor's usual measured delivery faltered, just for a fraction of a second, before he smoothed over the crack with a steady breath.
"They are… just ideas," Thalor said finally, voice even but lacking its earlier certainty. "Suggestions, if you will. You are under no obligation to accept."
But the way he said it—Kaelan caught it immediately.
The words were structured to seem reassuring, yet the undercurrent in Thalor's tone betrayed something else entirely. Worry. Not fear, not desperation, but a quiet concern carefully buried beneath layers of professionalism.
Kaelan's gaze sharpened slightly, the silence stretching between them.
A nervous man would have looked away. A lesser man would have stumbled over his words. Thalor did neither—he maintained his composure well, but Kaelan could see it now.
This wasn't just a proposal.
The academy wanted this, needed this.
And yet, they had sent Thalor with an escape route—a way for Kaelan to reject it without backlash. That meant they were treading carefully, uncertain of how he would respond.
Interesting.
Kaelan let the moment breathe, his fingers absentmindedly tapping the armrest once before going still.
"…Is that so?" he murmured, unreadable.
Kaelan's response was not immediate. On the surface, his expression remained calm—controlled. But within the confines of his mind, thoughts collided in rapid succession.
Confusion. Surprise. Calculation. Acceptance.
All within the span of a breath.
He had expected influence, maneuvering, perhaps even a role within the academy's power structure. But the vice principal? That was a deliberate move—one meant to solidify his standing without outright crowning him.
Why not the principal position?
The question formed instinctively. If the academy wanted him in a position of control, why not give him the highest seat? Why place him as second-in-command when his power alone could rival—or even surpass—that of the principal?
His fingers tapped once against the polished wood of the desk, a barely noticeable movement. Then, he spoke, voice steady, but with an edge of curiosity laced within it.
"If they're willing to place me in power, why not offer the principal position instead?"
His words settled into the air like a weight, and he caught the slight stiffening of Thalor's posture in response.
The professor, to his credit, masked his initial hesitation well. But Kaelan was observant—too observant. There was resistance there, subtle but undeniable. A quiet hesitation beneath his carefully measured words.
Thalor inhaled lightly, eyes flickering for the briefest moment before he responded.
"With all due respect, Kaelan…" he began, his voice still smooth, but carrying the faintest note of something unspoken. "That is not a matter of strength. Even if your abilities rival—or exceed—the principal's, power is not the only defining factor."
A pause. Then, with a note of quiet apology, he added, "You are not the same person in our hearts."
Kaelan's gaze sharpened slightly.
Thalor exhaled, composing himself further. "The principal has been the academy's pillar for decades. He is trusted. He is known. Replacing him outright would not only destabilize the institution but would also invite resistance from those who still view him as the foundation of this place."
The faintest flicker of something unreadable passed behind his green eyes. "That does not mean your influence will be lesser, but rather… more adaptable."
It was an explanation, certainly. But it was also an avoidance.
Kaelan studied him for a moment longer before leaning back slightly. He did not press—not yet. Instead, he let the thought simmer, turning it over within his mind. There was more to this than what Thalor was revealing.
Still, for now, he would allow the conversation to play out.
"Fine," he said finally, his voice smooth once more. "Then tell me—what exactly do they expect from me in this role?"
Thalor seemed relieved by the shift, but the tension in his shoulders did not fully ease. He nodded slightly before continuing, "Your administrative authority will be second only to the principal. Policy, discipline, external relations—you will have a hand in all of it. Your position ensures your presence is not questioned."
A pause.
"But," Thalor's voice lowered slightly, his gaze steady, "it also comes with expectation. There will be those who look to you not just as a figure of authority, but as something… more."
Kaelan arched a brow. "More?"
Thalor hesitated, then nodded. "A force of stability. Or, for some… a force of fear."
Kaelan allowed the corner of his mouth to twitch upward—just slightly.
"Interesting."
His posture remained effortless, yet the weight of the moment bore down on him. Eyes sharp, fingers resting lightly against the armrest, he leaned back slightly, considering Thalor's words with a piercing scrutiny.
Then, something else occurred to him.
Come to think of it…
In all his time at the academy, in all the chaos, discussions, and shifting tides of power, he had never once seen the principal. Not once had he glimpsed a face, heard a name. A shadow where the head of the institution should be. A man—or perhaps an entity—that existed only in title, not presence.
Why?