The dormitory room was steeped in a quiet that felt controlled rather than natural, the air carrying a faint scent of polish and metal as the dim light from a nearby lamp reflected softly across the neatly arranged interior.

Seated at the edge of the bed, a green-haired young man held a small decorative piece in his hand, its intricate design catching the light as he carefully wiped its surface with a cleaning cloth, his movements slow and deliberate, as though the act itself required a level of precision that bordered on obsession.

He lifted it slightly, blowing a faint stream of air across its surface before polishing it again, his gaze fixed on it as he spoke in a calm, almost absent tone.

"So... he didn’t react at all as we expected..."

Behind him, two young men sat on their knees, their posture stiff and submissive, the tension in their bodies evident even in their stillness. One of them had his fingers wrapped tightly in bandages, the cloth slightly stained, while both of them kept their heads lowered, avoiding direct eye contact.

"N-no..." one of them replied, his voice shaky, "he... he was calm throughout... too calm..."

As the words left his mouth, a visible tremor ran through his body, as though recalling the encounter alone was enough to unsettle him again.

Celdric continued polishing the decorative piece, his expression unchanged as he asked without looking back—

"What all did you spit out?"

The two hesitated.

Their heads dipped lower.

"T-that..." one of them stammered, unable to continue as the weight of the question pressed down on him.

Celdric’s hand paused for just a fraction of a second.

"Speak," he said quietly.

The command carried no raised tone.

No visible threat.

Yet it left no room for delay.

"J-just what the plan actually was..." the other blurted out quickly, his voice tight with urgency, "a-about the presence-masking artifact..."

Celdric’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"Where is it?" he asked, his tone sharper now, though still controlled.

The two young men visibly stiffened.

The one with bandaged fingers swallowed hard, his voice barely holding together.

"He... he took it..."

A faint sound followed.

Crack!

The decorative piece in Celdric’s hand split slightly along one edge under the pressure of his grip, a thin fracture forming across its polished surface as his fingers tightened almost unconsciously.

"Did you spill out my name?" he asked coldly, his voice dropping into something far more dangerous.

"N-no..." one of them answered immediately, shaking his head quickly, "before he could ask us anything else, the breach alarm sounded... and we ran away..."

Celdric remained silent for a moment.

Then slowly, his grip loosened.

The tension in the room eased just slightly.

"...Good," he muttered under his breath, his gaze lowering to the cracked piece in his hand as though the damage annoyed him more than the situation itself.

He leaned back slightly, exhaling faintly as his thoughts shifted.

"Just what kind of breach was that..." he murmured, more to himself than to them, his brows knitting ever so slightly, "even the young duchess looked out of focus today... glancing at him repeatedly..."

A pause.

"...Did something happen between them...?"

A soft chime cut through the room.

DING!

Celdric lifted his wrist, activating his manacron as the notification appeared across its surface. His eyes scanned it briefly—

And then—

A small smile formed on his lips.

"Speak of the devil...and Serena is here" he said quietly, a faint amusement slipping into his tone, "... what does she want now?"

He lowered his hand and turned his head slightly, casting a glance over his shoulder toward the two kneeling figures, his expression returning to calm indifference.

"Just stay cooped up inside the academy," he instructed casually, as though discussing something trivial, "class to dorm... dorm to class... otherwise..."

The threat hung unfinished.

Unnecessary to complete.

Both of them nodded quickly, almost in unison.

"Y-yes..."

"Of course..."

Then, hesitantly—

"Y-young lord..." one of them spoke again, his voice cautious, almost fearful, "a-about the reward..."

***

The evening had settled gently over the academy, the golden hues of the setting sun stretching across the pathways and reflecting faintly off the tall glass panels as Damon made his way back toward the dormitory building at an unhurried pace. The air carried a quiet calm, the kind that followed a day filled with noise and tension, yet his thoughts remained occupied, circling back to the conversation from earlier.

What I asked should be reasonable... right? he thought, his gaze drifting ahead as his steps remained steady, I mean, it’s not too much... a person should at least know how much to ask without pushing others too far...

Before the thought could settle further—

DING.

The soft chime from his manacron cut through the quiet, drawing his attention as the device lit up against his wrist. A message appeared across the display:

"Come to the dean’s office right away."

The sender—

Professor Elowen.

Damon exhaled faintly, already knowing the reason.

...It must be about yesterday.

Without hesitation, he shifted direction, turning away from the dormitory and heading back through the academy corridors, his pace neither hurried nor reluctant, simply controlled as he moved toward the administrative wing.

The halls were quieter now, the usual activity reduced to scattered footsteps and distant voices as he passed through them, his expression unchanged, his thoughts already moving ahead of the conversation that awaited him.

Soon enough, he arrived at the door of the dean’s office.

He stopped raising his hand.

Knock. Knock.

A voice came from within.

"Come in."

Damon pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The room was spacious yet orderly, its atmosphere carrying a sense of authority that did not rely on grandeur, as Elowen stood beside the desk with her usual composed demeanor, while behind it sat the dean, Adrielle, her presence calm yet unmistakably commanding.

Damon walked forward and came to a stop before them.

"Sit down," Adrielle said.

Damon complied without comment, taking the seat across from the desk as his posture remained relaxed, his gaze steady.

"Is it about the breach yesterday?" he asked directly.

The dean gave a small nod. 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

Then, her eyes narrowed slightly as she studied him.

"How did you even get in there?" she asked, her tone measured yet probing, "with your capabilities, a level 2 breach shouldn’t have been able to pull you in."

Damon rolled his eyes faintly, the motion subtle yet clearly intentional.

"Our Mother Teresa here wanted to save a kid and fell into it," he replied casually.

A brief pause followed.

A puzzled expression formed on both Adrielle and Elowen’s faces almost simultaneously.

"Mother—what?" Elowen asked, clearly thrown off.

Damon blinked once.

Then let out a small breath.

"Ahh... right..." he said, correcting himself, "Mira."

Recognition settled as both of them nodded.

Elowen’s lips curved into her usual faint smile as she leaned slightly, her tone carrying a hint of amusement.

"So you jumped after her."

Damon gave a small nod in response, as though the decision had been obvious.

Elowen’s smile lingered as she continued.

"I did inform Duke Valecrest about you falling into the breach..."

Damon didn’t wait for her to finish.

"Let me guess," he said, his voice flat, almost bored, "’Hmph... if he can’t even survive a level 2 breach, it’s better for him to die.’"

For the first time—

Elowen’s ever-present smile twitched just slightly.

Damon shook his head faintly, dismissing the matter entirely as he looked back at them.

"What do you want from me?"

Adrielle did not respond to his question immediately, her gaze lingering on him for a brief moment as though weighing how much needed to be said before she finally spoke in a calm, measured tone.

"Since you were the one who cleared the breach," she began, her voice carrying the quiet authority that defined her presence, "you will need to complete a full documentation regarding its specifics—the environmental conditions, the type of entities encountered, their behavioral patterns, any advantages or disadvantages observed, the level of threat posed, the clear condition, and the exact method through which it was ultimately resolved."

Damon blinked once.

Then again.

"Seriously..." he said, the faint disbelief in his voice unfiltered.

Adrielle did not react.

"You may divide the task between yourself and the other two involved," she continued without pause, her tone unchanged, "it is mandatory that such records are maintained for institutional and strategic purposes. If you have any doubts, you may consult Elowen."

Damon’s gaze shifted sideways toward Elowen.

She simply smiled as always.

He let out a quiet sigh, already resigned to the task as he pushed himself up from his seat, turning toward the door without further argument.

But just before he reached it—

He stopped.

"Say, Dean..." he said, his voice lowering slightly as he turned his head just enough to look back, his expression thoughtful in a way that hadn’t been there before, "whatever is inside a breach... it’s not reality, right?"

Both Adrielle and Elowen’s brows furrowed almost at the same time, the question catching them just slightly off guard.

Damon continued, clarifying without shifting his tone.

"I mean... what exists inside a breach isn’t real existence, correct?"

A brief silence followed.

Then Adrielle answered, her voice steady, though carrying a trace of consideration.

"Until now, the closest relation to reality that breaches have shown," she said, "is their connection to someone’s memories."

Damon held her gaze for a moment.

Then nodded once.

"I see..."

With that, he turned back and walked out, the door closing quietly behind him as the room returned to its earlier stillness.

***

The corridor outside the dormitory wing lay quiet, the last traces of evening fading into a dim, muted glow as the academy settled into a slower rhythm. In that stillness, two figures stood facing one another, the air between them carrying a tension that did not need to be spoken to be felt.

Serena stood upright, her expression composed, though the faint tightness in her posture betrayed a resolve that had not come easily, while across from her, Celdric regarded her with calm curiosity, his usual poise untouched, as though he had already anticipated that this meeting would not be a simple one.

For a brief moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Serena broke the silence.

"Damon Valecrest..." she said, her voice steady despite the weight behind the words, "...he asked me to help him deal with you."