The Academy's Terminally Ill Side Character-Chapter 103: Ethan’s Study Class [1]

After-school hours at Velcrest Academy were a time of much-needed ease for the students.

Some spent it sharpening their skills in the state-of-the-art training facilities. Others took part in club activities, filling the halls with laughter and friendly rivalry. A few, seeking clarity or comfort, turned to the professors for advice.

Keira was one of them.

She sat quietly in a small, sunlit office, the scent of books and faint mint tea in the air. Across from her sat Professor Ethan, the Introductory Monster Ecology instructor. With his warm smile and calm, attentive presence, he was a favorite among students. His counseling hours were always full—but today, Keira had been lucky. He had called her in right away.

"So," Ethan said, folding his hands on the desk between them, "have you made up with the classmates you had that disagreement with?"

His voice was gentle, inviting honesty.

Keira looked down at her hands.

"Not really. Most of them still avoid me." She paused. "But the one I... bullied said he forgave me."

Ethan nodded, his expression thoughtful. "That’s a good start. If the person directly involved can forgive you, others will come around in time. Atmosphere changes slowly, but it does change."

Keira gave a soft, humorless laugh. "To be honest, I’m not even sure I want to be friends with them again."

Ethan tilted his head, his smile fading slightly. "Why not?"

"I guess I just didn’t expect them to turn on me so fast," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The moment things got bad, they left. No questions, no hesitation. I thought we were close, but..."

She trailed off, and for a moment, the only sound in the room was the distant hum of student chatter beyond the window.

Ethan didn’t interrupt. He simply waited.

Keira took a slow breath.

"I know I made mistakes. And I’ll try to own up to them. But I don’t think I can trust people who gave up on me that easily."

Professor Ethan leaned back slightly, considering her words. Then he offered her a small, reassuring smile.

"Keira, sometimes moments like these show us who’s truly meant to stay in our lives—and who isn’t," the professor said gently. "Growth doesn’t always mean reconciliation. Sometimes, it just means understanding yourself a little better."

Keira blinked, surprised by how comforting his words were.

"Thanks, Professor," she murmured, her voice quiet.

He offered a small, approving nod. "Anytime. But... let’s be clear—don’t pull something like this again, alright?"

She nodded, this time with both shame and relief weighing down her shoulders. And yet, deep down, she’d already made up her mind.

She wouldn’t be doing anything like this again.

As the conversation settled into silence, the professor reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small glass container. Inside, a trio of shimmering Dream Moths stirred to life. Their delicate, translucent wings glowed faintly, releasing soft trails of silver dust into the air.

Keira watched, transfixed, as they fluttered lazily out of the container.

A dreamy sweetness drifted around them.

"Mmm... I smell something nice," she murmured, breathing in.

"Yes. Dream Moths release a soothing powder—it calms the nerves, especially when paired with the tea I gave you," he said. "Though, if you breathe in too much, well... you’ll just wake up an hour later, wondering what happened."

She let out a tired laugh. "Noted."

It was true. The warmth from the tea still lingered in her chest, loosening the tight coil of anxiety she’d been carrying all day.

The professor gave her a brief glance. "By the way... who was the friend you mentioned—the one you hurt?"

Her hands tensed slightly around her cup.

"Rin Evans," she said after a pause. "From Scarred Flame."

The professor blinked.

"...Rin?" His brows furrowed for a moment, then smoothed. "Ah. Yes, I know him. Quiet student. Very respectful. Sharp mind."

Keira looked down.

"I figured you’d know him," she mumbled. "He doesn’t really stand out... but he’s always been that kind of person. Steady. Too forgiving, honestly."

There was a long pause.

"I’d like to meet him again," the professor said eventually. "Forgiveness... it’s not something anyone should be pressured into. But understanding goes both ways."

Keira nodded, the edges of her resolve softening just a little.

"He’s really nice... but sometimes he acts weird."

"Acts weird? How so?" he asked, his tone light, curious.

"Well... for example, he told me to always stay alert. To be careful... of everything."

"I see..." he murmured, eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly. "So he said that."

Normally, Keira might’ve caught the brief pause in his voice, the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth. But the lingering haze from the Dream Moths—the ethereal, powder-winged creatures flitting near the lamp overhead—dulled her senses, making it hard to focus.

Her eyelids drooped.

She swayed slightly in her seat.

"Uh... I suddenly feel sleepy..."

"I see. He’s a much more capable friend than I thought," he said, voice quiet and even. "I was originally planning to wait another day, but now that I think about it... he was oddly cautious around me from the very beginning."

Keira blinked sluggishly, trying to resist the pull of sleep.

"I wonder how he knew..." he continued, almost to himself. "I never slipped, not even once. No tells. No aura. Did he really notice something? I’m curious..."

But Keira was no longer listening. Her body slumped forward, entirely unconscious.

He caught her easily, cradling her with calculated care.

Then, moving to the far wall of his office, he pressed his hand against a seemingly ordinary section of paneling. A soft mechanical click followed, and a hidden door creaked open, revealing a narrow, dim passageway.

"I was hoping to find two or three more by tomorrow," he muttered as he stepped inside with Keira in his arms. "But I suppose I’ll have to settle for you today."

Inside the hidden room, three other students were already restrained—each one unconscious, their breathing shallow.

He laid Keira gently beside them, brushing a stray hair from her face.

The Dream Moths still lingered, their faintly glowing wings pulsing with slow, hypnotic rhythm in the air.

"Sleep well," he whispered. "You’ll be useful soon."

----

Far above Velcrest Academy, the sky began to deepen into twilight, streaked with the last traces of gold and crimson. A cool breeze swept across the campus rooftops, brushing the leaves of the old sycamore trees that flanked the central courtyard.

Rin Evans stood near the training field’s perimeter, hands in his pockets, watching the horizon darken. He had been standing there for a while, unmoving, ignoring the sound of grunts and spells echoing from nearby practice duels.

His eyes weren’t on the setting sun.

They were focused on the distant spire of the main building. Specifically, the upper wing where faculty offices were located.

"Too long," he muttered to himself, a crease forming between his brows. "She should’ve been out by now."

The longer Keira’s session with Professor Ethan stretched, the more restless Rin felt.

It wasn’t like he distrusted every professor at Velcrest. But Ethan? Ethan was the one who started to kidnapping the students and his first killing victim was non other then Kiera herself.

But it would be fine right?

After all, Ethan began his hunt for tomorrow not now.

So it should be fine for today....

----

Meanwhile, inside Ethan’s hidden chamber, the professor stood over the unconscious students, humming a quiet tune. Each of them lay bound with soft restraints—non-marking silk enchanted to suppress their auras. The room was lined with faintly glowing crystals embedded in the walls—dampening all magic signatures within.

He turned toward Keira, crouching beside her with a thoughtful expression.

"She has a good soul, this one," he mused aloud. "It’s a shame how easily they trust, though."

He reached into his coat and pulled out a thin needle, the tip already glimmering with a viscous, silvery substance. He carefully pricked Keira’s forearm—just a pinprick. Just enough.

"There we are. The Dream Moths take care of the body... and this will anchor the mind."

The silvery substance pulsed faintly under her skin before vanishing entirely and ...before vanishing entirely and leaving behind no trace—at least not to the untrained eye.

Professor Ethan rose, slipping the needle back into his coat with mechanical precision. He didn’t look at the other students. Not yet. His focus remained on Keira, as if something about her held a different weight.

"Three more for the first phase," he said, his voice calm but laced with something cold underneath. "Not ideal, but sufficient."

He turned toward a console nestled into the corner of the room—an odd blend of magical interfaces and technological devices humming quietly beneath flickering glyphs. He placed his hand on a glowing rune, and a soft vibration filled the room. Symbols lit up on the walls, pulsing in rhythm with the students’ shallow breathing.

"Vital signs stable. Enchantment integrity... holding."

Satisfied, Ethan stepped back. His eyes lingered briefly on the ceiling, where one of the Dream Moths drifted near a crystal, slowly disintegrating into glittering dust.

"They burn out too quickly..." he muttered. "I’ll need a fresh batch."

The chamber settled into silence again.

Except—

A soft chime echoed from the console.

Ethan’s head snapped toward it.

One of the runes had dimmed—just a flicker—but it was enough to make him pause.

He moved quickly, tapping the crystal. "Disruption in binding field... Student #1?"

He checked the bindings.

No struggle.

No awakening.

And yet... something pulsed—faint and foreign.

He stepped over to the student on the far left—a boy with cropped hair and a faint scar across his chin. Ethan narrowed his eyes, waved his hand slowly above the boy’s forehead, and muttered a detection spell.

Nothing happened.

But that was the problem.

The spell should’ve reacted.

"...He’s not asleep," Ethan said slowly. "He’s pretending." freewebnσvel.cѳm

The boy’s breath hitched.

That was all it took.

Ethan moved like a shadow.

A precise strike to the side of the neck. The boy’s eyes flew open—then rolled back as he collapsed, this time truly unconscious.

The professor stared at him a moment longer, then exhaled.

"Well. That’s troubling."

He turned away—but this time, he activated a seal on the wall. A deep hum shuddered through the chamber, and every crystal in the walls brightened, cascading pulses locking down the room entirely.

"No more surprises."