Sylvie couldn't focus on the class at all.
Just a few weeks ago, she wouldn't have let herself miss a single word from his lips. She used to hang onto everything he said. But now, all she could do was stare at him, lost in a haze.
What had she done?
She had been angry—furious—because he said something bad about Allen. And in that moment, she accused him of thinking. But why? Was she really so attached to Allen that she couldn't bear to hear a single bad word about him? Was that why she turned on the person she admired most?
No... not entirely.
Somewhere deep down, Sylvie knew the real reason. It wasn't just about defending Allen.
She had believed—truly believed—that Adrian didn't care about Olivia at all. That he was different. That their relationship held no meaning.
But then... she heard it. The way Adrian thought about Allen. The quiet rage in his voice. The way he said he wanted to hurt Allen for being close to Olivia. And in that moment, Sylvie knew.
Adrian did care about Olivia.
And something inside her broke.
A heavy, dark feeling crept into her chest—one she didn't understand. It wrapped around her heart, sharp and bitter. Her head spun with anger. Her chest felt tight. She couldn't focus on anything else.
All she could think about was getting back at him.
She wanted to hurt him the way she suddenly felt hurt. And that scared her more than anything.
"Professor, what does the third rune describe?"
"Ah, that… it's the attachment ring—it draws power."
"Professor, what's the fifth syllable…"
One after another, questions echoed through the classroom. It felt less like curiosity and more like an interrogation—like they were constantly testing him, trying to poke holes in his knowledge.
Sylvie's heart sank.
They were mocking him.
And the person to blame… was her.
"Haaah… you all have a lot of questions today," Adrian muttered, turning toward the class with a tired smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
He looked more drained than he had in last class—more weighed down.
Some students smirked at him, clearly enjoying the shift in power. Others wore empty, indifferent faces. Only a few of the girls still leaned forward in their seats, genuinely eager to learn.
Adrian took off his glasses and rested them on the table, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I'll begin assessing students for the Arcane Anvil Cup in a few days," he announced.
That stirred the room. Eyebrows raised. A few students sat up straighter. Some exchanged anxious glances.
Adrian continued, calmly listing the topics that might be covered and the rewards that could be expected.
From the third-last bench, Allen raised his hand.
"Yes, student Allen," Adrian said.
Allen stood. "Sir, can those without Runesmithing talent still participate?"
It was a fair question.
Runesmithing required the rare ability to inscribe runes that could empower weapons or tools. Only one student in the entire class had shown a real talent for it. The rest, no matter how interested, simply didn't have the gift.
Adrian nodded. "Talent isn't required. This test is about knowledge. It's a quiz—the first to answer correctly earns the point."
He didn't mention the extra twist—the teachers' involvement. This year, instructors would also be competing in a 'friendly' Runesmithing contest, a detail Adrian chose to keep to himself for now.
Another student spoke up without even raising his hand, his tone laced with arrogance. "And who'll be in charge of our team?"
It was a question everyone had been waiting for. There were only a handful of Runesmithing professors in the academy, and each one was respected in their own way.
Adrian had already been informed. Master Albec wanted him there. So, without hesitation, he answered, "I will."
That drew a mixed reaction. Some students relaxed, smiling slightly—they trusted Adrian. Others looked uncertain. He was a skilled teacher, no doubt, but after what had happened recently, many weren't sure he was the right choice to represent Runebound Academy.
As the murmuring picked up again, the same cocky student from before leaned forward and said—loud enough to silence the room—
"Are you even capable of leading us?"
A heavy silence fell.
Olivia's and Sylvie's eyes widened in shock. Allen's jaw clenched as he glared at the boy. He wasn't alone—many others looked toward the speaker with clear disapproval.
A few students chuckled quietly, enjoying the spectacle.
Adrian didn't respond right away.
He simply reached for his glasses, calmly slipping them on before glancing toward the student who had spoken.
"Barry Orgov, right?" Adrian asked as he picked up his pen and began writing something down on the register.
The air shifted.
Maybe it was the calm in his voice… or the way he didn't argue or raise his tone. He just wrote. Slowly. Quietly.
And just like that, the entire classroom fell into silence.
Barry straightened in his seat, narrowing his eyes. He was no longer smirking.
Adrian didn't lift his head as he spoke, voice low but clear. "Barry Orgov, you have failed the Aegis Trials. You are required to repeat the year before you're eligible to apply again."
"…Huh?"
"F-Failed?!"
"No way…"
A wave of shock swept through the room. The stunned gasps were nearly synchronized. Every student stared, wide-eyed, as the words sank in.
Barry's face turned pale. He shot up from his chair, voice cracking, "You can't do this to me!"
The Aegis Trials—one of the three crucial exams held at the end of the academic year. Passing them wasn't just about advancing; it was about securing your future. A failure didn't just mean repeating the year—it branded you. The failed mark would stain your head card, making it nearly impossible to land a good job afterward.
And with one decision, Adrian had shattered Barry's path forward.
Tears welled in Barry's eyes as he shouted, voice trembling with desperation, "Sylvie humiliated you in front of everyone and you didn't do a damn thing to her! Why the hell are you singling me out?!"
Sylvie froze in her seat, lips parted in disbelief. Her heart stopped. The entire class stiffened as a dark tension gripped the room.
Adrian didn't respond at once. He quietly finished writing, closed the register, then raised his gaze. His voice was firm—striking.
"I left the decision concerning student Sylvie on the Headmistress," he said. "But what happens to students who forget the most basic manners in my class… that is entirely up to me."
His tone sharpened with each word.
"Not even the Headmistress can change that."
A chill ran down their spines. For the first time, the students saw it—not the tired professor, not the man who'd been quietly enduring their jabs and disrespect—but the weight behind his title.
Adrian picked up his books and stood. His cold eyes swept over the class.
"Class is dismissed."
°°°°°°°°°
A/N:- Thanks for reading.