No more craziness.
Back to the ordinary.
—I just had a little fight with Cassius Veldane, that's all.
He knocked me out and the next thing I know, I was in front of the male dorms only to be rescued by my best friend, Ethan Walker.
I was lucky to not be spotted by anyone besides him. People would've assumed I got high on my first day in the Academy and who knew, I would've been expelled.
—I can't afford to be expelled. Not until I find clues about Marienne.
So, I have to tread carefully. I let Cassius get in my head and that's my fault. I have to control myself. I know what he said about Marienne was bullshit, but part of me...
Is she really—alive?
No, fuck, no. Don't let him get to your head.
I have to get ready for the Academy.
The male dorms were exactly what I expected—grand on the outside, a mess on the inside. Aristocrats might have perfect manners in public, but here? Clothes thrown over chairs, half-empty glasses on desks, and the occasional noble brat too lazy to clean up after himself. The hallway smelled like expensive cologne mixed with bad decisions.
My room wasn't much better. A bed that looked fancy but felt like a damn rock. A desk covered in books I hadn't touched yet. A wardrobe that creaked every time I opened it, like it was begging me to put it out of its misery. The only thing remotely personal was the small dagger I kept under my pillow—because in a place like this, trust was a luxury I didn't have.
I sat on the edge of the bed, running a hand through my hair. Just another day in paradise.
This was me, Castor Whitmore. Residency in Room 207.
Thanks to our dear friend, Cassius-fucking-Veldane, I looked like a dork with a black-eye thanks to the punch he gave. Although it wasn't that visible anymore.
He might be an aristocrat but what do you know? Bastard sure is packing heat. I'm just glad I won't have to see him since we're in different areas of the Academy and me encountering him last time was just in all honesty, me stalking him.
I needed to get answers about Marienne from someone who had studied with her. Too bad he had a beef to settle with my sister. It must've been hard on Marienne, being a prodigy, more intelligent and elegant then nobles despite being a commoner. She must've been mistreated. Yet she always spoke of the Academy in such a kind and polite way in her letters.
—You aren't the one who's messed up and neither is it me, Marienne. This world's the one messed up.
And I'll fix it for you.
Not until I fix the damn broken shower in my room.
After a quick shower, I threw on my uniform, adjusting the collar as I glanced in the mirror. The academy's insignia sat neatly over my chest—a constant reminder that I was stuck in this world of aristocratic politics and power games.
I grabbed my things and headed out, weaving through the morning chaos of the dorms. Students were either rushing to class or taking their sweet time, confident that their family names would excuse their tardiness. Outside, the crisp morning air hit me, a stark contrast to the heated, suffocating halls inside.
Just another day at the academy.
No more craziness.
As I stepped onto the academy grounds, the usual morning bustle filled the air—students chatting, some rushing to class, others standing around, too important to care about punctuality. I adjusted my bag, still feeling the faint ache in my shoulder from last night. Cassius had landed a decent hit before things went dark.
Before I could dwell on it, a familiar voice called out.
Misha: [grinning, arms crossed] "Well, well, if it isn't our fearless warrior, back from the dead."
I barely had time to react before Ethan clapped a hand on my back, way too cheerful for this early in the morning.
Ethan: [smirking] "You owe me for dragging your unconscious ass back to the dorms. You looked like a tragic hero, sprawled out like that. Quite the sight."
Castor: [rolling my eyes] "Right. Thanks for the dramatic rescue. I assume you didn't drop me on purpose?"
Ethan: [mock offense] "Me? Never. Though, Misha suggested leaving you there for 'character development.'"
Misha: [shrugging, laughing] "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."
I sighed, rubbing my temples. They were insufferable. But, unfortunately, they were also my insufferable friends.
Castor: [grinning slightly] "Remind me why I hang out with you two?"
Misha: [smirking] "Because without us, your life would be nothing but brooding and bad decisions."
Fair point. I sighed, shaking my head as they walked toward class. Another day, another headache.
The academy had no shortage of clubs, each one more pretentious than the last. Fencing, aristocratic debate, ballroom dancing—because apparently, nothing said elite education like twirling around in overpriced fabric. I wasn't in the mood for that. But I had time to kill, so I wandered through the club fair, scanning the banners and booths set up around the courtyard.
That's when I stumbled upon them.
The Demara sisters.
Nicole and Aria Demara were infamous in their own way. Nicole, the older one, was all energy and confidence, the type of person who could walk into a room and make it her stage. Aria, on the other hand, was the complete opposite—quiet, reserved, always hovering just slightly behind her sister like she wanted to disappear. Yet, despite their differences, they had the same striking features: dark curls, sharp blue eyes, and the undeniable air of aristocracy.
Nicole spotted me first, and before I could slip away, she grinned. Trapped.
Nicole: [cheerfully] "Well, well, look who's taking an interest in clubs! Didn't peg you for the social type, Castor."
Castor: [raising an eyebrow] "I'm not. Just… looking. You know my name?"
Nicole: [ignoring me completely] "Just like you know my name. Anyway, if you're just looking, I think you'll love the Gardening Club."
I blinked. "Gardening?" Of all the things I expected her to say, that wasn't one of them.
Aria, standing beside her, spoke up quietly. "It's peaceful."
Nicole nodded enthusiastically. "And full of interesting people! Not just dirt and plants—though, technically, yes, a lot of dirt and plants."
I glanced at the small booth behind them. A few potted plants, a banner that looked like it had been hand-painted in a hurry, and a handful of students tending to some flowers. Compared to the flashy, competitive clubs, it was almost… normal.
Castor: [crossing my arms] "Didn't think aristocrats cared much for gardening. Too much manual labor."
Nicole smirked. "Exactly! That's what makes it fun. Watching spoiled noble princesses freak out over dirt? Priceless."
Okay, I could respect that.
Aria, still half-hidden behind her sister, glanced at me. "You should join."
I stared at her for a moment. She was quiet, but there was something oddly genuine about the way she said it—no persuasion, no sales pitch, just… a simple suggestion.
Castor: [scoffing] "I don't even know how to keep a plant alive."
Nicole waved a hand dismissively. "Details! We can teach you. Besides, it's a good excuse to avoid the stuck-up clubs."
I stared at them, then at the Gardening Club booth behind them. The students tending to plants looked genuinely happy—like they actually enjoyed being here. Weird.
Castor: [raising an eyebrow] "Yeah… I don't think gardening is my thing."
Nicole gasped dramatically, clutching her chest like I'd just insulted her entire bloodline. "What? You're saying you don't want to spend your afternoons knee-deep in soil, whispering sweet nothings to azaleas?"
Castor: [deadpan] "Shockingly, no."
Aria barely reacted, just nodding slightly as if she expected my answer. Nicole, on the other hand, wasn't done yet. She leaned in with a mischievous grin. "Alright, then what's your thing? Fencing? Chess? The 'Brooding in Dark Corners' Club?"
Castor: [flatly] "That last one sounds promising."
Nicole laughed, clapping her hands together. "Oh, you're funny. You should really consider joining. Aria, back me up."
Aria, still half-hiding behind her sister, hesitated for a moment before finally speaking. "It's calming."
Her voice was quiet, but there was something honest about it. No sales pitch, no persuasion—just a simple truth. I studied her for a second before shrugging.
Castor: [casual] "I'll think about it."
Nicole narrowed her eyes. "That's noble-speak for 'never.'"
Castor: [smirking] "Exactly."
Nicole groaned, but it was more amused than annoyed. "Fine, fine. But if I ever see you sulking around with nothing to do, I will drag you into this club."
Castor: [mock serious] "Noted. I'll be sure to keep running."
Aria just gave me a quiet look, then turned back to arranging some flowers on the table. Nicole shook her head, grinning, before waving me off. "Alright, brooding boy, go explore. But don't say I didn't offer you a taste of inner peace."
I smirked and walked off, hands in my pockets. Inner peace, huh? Maybe someday. But definitely not through gardening.
I didn't have the energy to hold another conversation with the various other extroverts that were promoting their respective clubs. Nicole Demara... what an interesting fellow and quite the extrovert. It's hard to believe she's a freshmen like me and she's already blending in so well.
I arrived at the classroom, already regretting every life choice that had led me here. Math. At this hour. With him.
Professor Aldric Varrow.
If there was one thing the academy excelled at, it was collecting eccentric personalities, and Varrow was no exception. He was a tall, wiry man with perpetually disheveled hair, half-moon glasses sliding down his nose, and an energy level that suggested he either drank way too much coffee or hadn't slept in years. Probably both.
The moment I stepped inside, he was already scribbling a ridiculous formula across the board, muttering rapid equations under his breath like some kind of deranged oracle.
I sighed, glancing around at the other students as I found my seat.
As expected, the usual groups had already formed. The noble-born prodigies sat near the front, straight-backed and ready to impress.
Further back, a few students were barely holding it together, already dozing off before the lesson had even begun. Then there were the ones like Misha and Ethan, who had somehow managed to snag seats near the windows—prime spots for daydreaming and avoiding responsibility.
I dropped into my chair just as Varrow turned around, his wild eyes scanning the room.
Professor Varrow: [grinning widely] "Ah, numbers! The great equalizer! They don't care about your titles, your wealth, or your fragile egos. Numbers are ruthless. Beautifully, gloriously ruthless."
A few students shifted uncomfortably. Others—probably the math-inclined—nodded in what I could only assume was excitement. I just rested my chin on my hand. This was going to be long.
Class was already dragging, and Professor Varrow was in his own world, ranting about the beauty of numbers while half the students tried to keep up and the other half resigned themselves to their fate.
That's when she spoke up.
Snowflake Everhart.
The name wasn't unfamiliar. Freshman representative, student council member, and apparently some kind of academic prodigy. I didn't notice that she was here. You, who are you?
She sat near the front, posture perfect, her silver-white hair catching the light as she raised a hand with casual confidence. Her expression was calm—cold, even—but there was something sharp in her icy-blue eyes.
Snowflake: [flatly] "Professor, I believe you've skipped a step in that proof."
Varrow froze mid-equation, blinking at the board. Then he let out a sharp laugh. "Ah! So I have! Excellent catch, Miss Everhart. A lesser mind would have let that slip."
A few students chuckled. She didn't react much, just nodding slightly before resting her chin on her hand. Effortless. As if correcting a professor was just another Tuesday for her.
I leaned back, watching her. Interesting. You don't care about other people's opinions, you're upfront and fearless. Even if it was me who knew that Varrow was wrong, I wouldn't have the courage to correct him. You live up to the reputation I had for you.
Not long after, class ended, and as I was gathering my things, I felt someone step into my space. I turned my head—and there she was, standing right beside my desk.
Snowflake: [smirking slightly] "You were staring."
Blunt. You noticed me. You came from the front to the back for me.
What are your intentions?
I raised an eyebrow. "Was I?"
She tilted her head slightly, studying me. "You were."
Well, she wasn't wrong. But I wasn't about to admit it. I'm already getting stalker accusations and this wouldn't help my case.
Castor: [shrugging] "Maybe I was just zoning out."
Snowflake: [mock sympathy] "A tough first day in Professor Aldric's class, hmm? Or do numbers frighten you?"
There it was. A tease, subtle but pointed. She didn't just carry herself with confidence—she knew how to play with words.
I smirked. "Nah, just not a fan of early morning lectures. But I guess you enjoy correcting professors for fun?"
I want to make you know I'm not a bland person but I also don't want you to think I'm a stalker.
She placed a hand on her hip. "When they make mistakes, why not? Someone has to keep them in check. By the way, what's your name?"
Castor: "Oh, it's Castor Whitmore."
Upon hearing my name, it was as if time had stood still for her as she froze.
Was my name really that unusual?
Confident. Cold. Sharp-tongued. And yet, something about her tone wasn't purely arrogant. There was playfulness underneath it, carefully measured.
Castor: [curious] "So, student council and top of the class. Do you ever actually struggle with anything?"
She gave a soft hum, pretending to think. "Hmm… I suppose I do struggle with one thing."
I raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
She leaned in slightly, just enough to make it seem deliberate. "Finding interesting people in this academy."
I stared at her for a second, my smirk growing. So that's how she plays it.
Castor: [mock serious] "Must be a tragic existence for you."
Snowflake: [grinning slightly] "You have no idea."
With that, she turned smoothly and walked off, not even waiting for a reply. I watched her go, half-amused, half-curious.
Snowflake Everhart.
Cold upfront, but a good tease. A dangerous combination. You really are an interesting fellow. And I can't help but think that you're interested in me.
The day dragged on with more classes—literature, alchemy, history—each one blending into the next. Some professors were strict, others eccentric, but none quite as unhinged as Varrow. By midday, my brain was fried.
Then, just as I was getting ready to leave for lunch, a sharp chime echoed through the academy halls, followed by the crackling of the announcement system.
Voice from Speaker: "All students are to report to the auditorium immediately. This is a mandatory assembly. Repeat, all students must gather at the auditorium immediately."
The halls, which had been filled with the usual buzz of conversation, fell into a hushed confusion. Students exchanged glances, some murmuring about what this could be about. A surprise event? A disciplinary notice?
I sighed, adjusting the strap of my bag. "Great. More speeches."
Ethan and Misha caught up to me as we made our way through the crowd.
Ethan: [grinning] "What are the odds this is something serious?"
Misha: [rolling her eyes] "Considering how dramatic this place is? I'd say very high."
I stayed quiet, scanning the faces around me. The noble students walked with the same entitled air, though some looked more curious than bored. Others, like the common-born students, were a bit more wary. Even Snowflake was ahead, walking with a composed but thoughtful expression.
Something about this sudden announcement felt… off.
I exhaled and shoved my hands into my pockets. "Guess we'll find out soon enough."
The auditorium buzzed with hushed conversations as students filled the rows of seats. The nobles, of course, sat together near the front like they were above the rest of us, while the more relaxed students sprawled across the back rows. I took a seat somewhere in the middle, arms crossed as I scanned the stage.
The student council was already there, standing in a perfect line, their polished uniforms making them look more like a ruling body than a group of students. Snowflake Everhart stood at the center, her presence just as commanding as before, but my attention drifted to someone else.
Isla Vritra.
Even among the elite, she stood out. Long violet hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her sharp amethyst eyes held a frigid intensity, like she was always two seconds away from telling someone they weren't worth her time. Unlike the others, she didn't bother with pleasantries or fake smiles—she simply existed, detached and unreadable.
I'd heard the rumors. The Vritra family was powerful, their bloodline ancient. Isla, their youngest heir, was known for her skill in combat, her top grades, and her complete indifference toward socializing.
And yet, something about her interested me.
Maybe it was because she didn't play the same games as the others. No false charm, no desperate need for attention. Just quiet, effortless dominance.
I leaned back in my seat, watching as she barely acknowledged the murmuring students around her.
She's going to be interesting.
The murmurs and chatter in the auditorium died instantly as Morgan Vale stepped onto the stage.
She didn't need to demand silence. She was silence.
Her presence alone was enough to suffocate the air in the room. A tall woman, dressed in all black, with piercing golden eyes that seemed to dissect everything they landed on. The way she carried herself—elegant, poised, yet utterly menacing—made it clear that she was someone you did not cross.
I had heard of Morgan Vale, of course. Headmistress of Dicarthen. A woman whose name alone made nobles hesitate and made commoners tread carefully. But seeing her in person? That was an entirely different experience.
She stepped forward, her gaze sweeping across the crowd like a predator surveying prey.
Morgan Vale: [calmly] "Welcome, freshmen. My apologies for not greeting you properly yesterday."
Her voice was smooth, yet laced with something sharp, like a blade wrapped in silk.
Morgan Vale: "Dicarthen is not just an academy. It is a crucible. A place where the brightest minds, the strongest wills, and the most ambitious souls gather. Here, you will grow. You will struggle. And you will be shaped into something greater—or you will crumble under the weight of those who surpass you."
She let the words hang in the air for a moment before continuing, her tone steady.
Morgan Vale: "However, I did not call this assembly simply to welcome you. I have graver matters to address."
A chill ran through the room. I felt my back straighten instinctively.
She let the silence settle before speaking again.
Morgan Vale: "Late last night, the body of Cassius Veldane was found in the lake behind the eastern dormitories."
The reaction was immediate. Gasps, murmurs, a few suppressed cries. Students turned to each other, eyes wide with shock. Even the nobles looked shaken—Cassius was one of them, after all.
I sat frozen, my hands clenching into fists.
Murdered?
Morgan Vale: "An investigation is already underway. The time of death was estimated to be shortly after midnight."
The back of my neck prickled. I remembered our fight. I remembered pushing him against the lockers, watching him sneer, watching him walk away—alive.
And now he was dead.
I swallowed hard, keeping my expression blank as my mind raced.
Murdered. In the dead of night. And now the academy was on high alert.
Morgan Vale's gaze swept across the students, and for the briefest moment, I swore her golden eyes landed on me.
My stomach twisted into knots.
Cassius was dead. And I had been the last person to fight him. The last person to shove him against the lockers, to glare at him with pure rage.
I didn't remember anything after that fight. Just waking up in front of the dorms.
No alibi. No witnesses. No memories.
My breath hitched, and suddenly, the walls of the auditorium felt like they were closing in. The murmurs of students, the weight of Morgan Vale's stare—it was all too much.
"Castor?" Ethan's voice was distant, but I could barely focus on him.
Misha touched my arm. "Hey, you look—"
I tore away from them and ran.
Out of the auditorium, through the marble halls, past the curious stares. My footsteps echoed, my heart pounded. I didn't stop until I reached the dorms, slamming the door shut behind me.
I pressed my back against it, breathing heavily.
Did you do it?
No. That was insane. I wasn't a murderer.
But you blacked out.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to piece together the last thing I remembered. The fight. The rage. The way Cassius smirked as he walked away.
And then… nothing. Just waking up in front of the dorms like someone had reset me.
If you didn't do it, why don't you remember?
I felt sick. If anyone found out I had no alibi, it wouldn't matter whether I was innocent. I would be the easiest suspect. And if I got expelled—no, if I got arrested—my search for Marienne would be over.
I raked my fingers through my hair, my breath unsteady.
I needed to think.
But all I could hear was the sound of Cassius's name echoing in my mind, over and over again.
I'm not insane. I'm not insane. I'm not insane. I'm not insane. I'm not insane. I'm not insane. I'm not insane. I'm not insane. I'm not insane. I'm not insane. I'm not insane. I'm not insane. I'm not insane. I'm not insane. I'm not insane. I'm not insane. I'm not insane. I'm not insane. I'm not insane. I'm not insane.