Aman caught the bundled black fabric Zephyr tossed at him—a fresh shirt, still folded neatly, as if the guy carried spares for situations .
He didn't question it since he was the one who asked. Stripping off the bloodied rags of his old one, he tugged the new shirt on.
It hung a bit loose on his frame, the sleeves slightly long and the hem brushing past his hips—Zephyr was easily ten centimeters taller—but somehow, Aman liked it that way. It felt comfortable and easy to move.
Around them, groans and murmurs rose as students and faculty began stirring.
Zephyr's frown deepened, his eyes scanning the room like a predator assessing threats. Aman squinted—his vision still slightly blurred from Exorcist Eye's use—but even he could see the confusion spreading through the crowd.
Teachers rubbed their temples, blinking as if surfacing from deep sleep. A few students had already bolted upright, clutching their heads. The air smelled of sweat, spilled drinks, and the ozone-tinge of shattered illusions.
He turned to Zephyr, keeping his voice low. "I've gotta return to the dorm. Can you… not mention anything about what happened? About me, I mean."
Zephyr studied him—that unnerving, unblinking stare that made Aman feel like an insect pinned to a board. Then, after a beat, he nodded once.
Aman's shoulders loosened. "Thanks." He didn't wait for a response, slipping through the growing chaos toward the exit.
The moment the back doors shut behind Aman, Zephyr's gaze slid to a certain figure.
"Are you done pretending?"
And under his icy gaze, a certain princess's body flinched—just slightly, but enough. After a frozen second, she cracked one eye open, then the other, peering up at him like a mouse cornered by a hawk. Seeing no one else nearby, she slowly straightened in her chair, hands smoothing her wrinkled skirts.
Across from her, Luna mirrored the movement, though her eyes remained downcast, dark lashes shadowing her cheeks.
Sara swallowed. "You... you won't tell him, will you?"
Zephyr's stare could have flayed skin.
"...Alright," he said at last, the word more threat than agreement.
Honestly, he talked to Luna just now, he didn't expect the princess to be awake as well. But how long was she awake? And..
She's really good at pretending...
The princess sagged in relief, but before she could speak again, a sharp cry cut through the hall:
A professor staggered to his feet, clutching a broken spectacle lens. Others followed suit—teachers blinking dazedly, students clutching their heads, the air thickening with panicked questions.
Zephyr exhaled through his nose.
This was going to be tedious.
High above the academy, where the night air was crisp and untouched by the chaos below, two figures hovered in perfect stillness.
A small emerald-winged serpent—Virion—floated lazily, his tail coiled around a delicate teacup. With a flick of his forked tongue, he sipped the steaming liquid, golden eyes never leaving the scene unfolding beneath them.
Opposite him sat a woman of striking elegance. Dark emerald hair cascaded down her back, framing a face of serene beauty.
A pair of curved horns, polished to a gleaming sheen, crowned her forehead. Her smile was gentle as she lifted her own cup, the porcelain looking impossibly fragile in her slender fingers.
Below, the academy's lights flickered back to life as students and faculty stumbled through their confusion.
Virion's tail twitched. "Everything's ended. Why don't you scram now?"
The woman's smile didn't waver. She set her teacup down with deliberate grace. "Why are you driving me away, O Ancient One?" Her voice was soft, almost musical. "Can't you let me meet my granddaughter? It's been so long since I last saw her."
Virion snorted. A wisp of smoke curled from his nostrils. "Dream on. And what kind of grandmother tortures her own granddaughter ? Putting her—and all those innocent fools—in their deepest nightmares?"
The woman tilted her head, the motion almost birdlike. "What do you mean? I was merely ensuring she grows strong enough to fulfill our family's hopes."
"Hah!" Virion's wings rustled. "Why not just say 'I'm trying to make her my puppet.'"
For the first time, something flickered in the woman's serene expression—a shadow passing over still waters. Then it was gone, smoothed back into perfect calm.
"You always misunderstand me, O Ancient One," she murmured, shaking her head with smooth grace. "I never intended to harm her. Every action I take is for her own benefit." Her fingers traced the rim of her teacup. "And didn't you see? She passed one of the tests just now."
Virion's tail lashed. "You and your 'kind actions.' If it weren't for that boy, she would have died to those phantoms you sent."
The woman's smile didn't falter instead widened slightly—but Virion knew her too well. The slight tilt of her head, the way her fingers stilled—it was all the warning he needed.
"Right," she mused, voice sweet as poisoned honey. "If not for that boy's intervention, she might have truly failed." Her gaze drifted downward, as if she could see through the academy's roof to where Aman had disappeared into the night. "He's quite an interesting one... Especially his ability..."
Virion's emerald eyes narrowed into slits.
Were they even talking about the same person?
The woman's "interest" was never benign—it was the kind that ended with people bound in gilded chains, their wills eroded until they forgot they'd ever been free.
Virion clearly meant Zephyr who took care of all the wondering phantoms and later destroyed the phantom's heart. If she wasn't talking about him, then only person left was...
"Don't get any ideas about him," Virion hissed, his voice chilling. "He's not of your blood. I can—and will—take action if you try anything."
"Anything." He added again to make his point clear.
The woman's smile widened, just slightly.
"Haha... You accuse me of making her a pawn," she said, lifting her teacup to her lips, "but aren't you doing the same? Putting him into things he can't even fathom yet?"
"Besides, he already seems to be 'fancied' by some people. Alas you took care of them, not giving a chance to the boy."
The words hung in the air, sharp as a blade.
Virion went very still.
With a sound like shattering glass, the teacup in the woman's hand exploded into dust. Not a drop spilled. Not a single shard fell. It simply ceased to exist.
"Know your place," Virion said softly.
The woman's smile didn't waver, but the air between them grew heavy, thick with something older than malice.
For a moment, neither moved.
Then, with a laugh like wind through dead leaves, the woman rose. "As you wish, Ancient One." She brushed nonexistent dust from her robes. "Well then, till next time."
She stepped backward—and the night swallowed her whole.
Virion stared at the empty space where she'd stood, his wings twitching.
"Tch. Troublesome hag."
"I really regret promising her that time."
With a final glance at the academy below, he too vanished, leaving only the faintest ripple in the air behind.
Back in the academy ballroom, the first clear-headed professors were already organizing the dazed students. Zephyr watched the scene impassively, the weight of the Resonant Relic heavy in his storage as he glanced toward the doors where Aman had disappeared.
Meanwhile, in the quiet of the dormitory hallway, Aman leaned against his doorframe, finally allowing himself to exhale fully. The borrowed shirt still carried the faint scent of winter pine - an oddly comforting reminder that tonight's chaos had at least one silver lining.
Far above, the moon shone unobstructed once more, its pale light washing over the academy grounds as if nothing extraordinary had occurred at all.