Chapter 827: Just Want To See You At The Top Again
Chapter 827: Just Want To See You At The Top Again
The third-year wing of Dark Knight Academy had already begun to empty by the time night settled fully over the grounds.During the day, the wing carried a controlled kind of motion. Third-years moved through its halls with clipped purpose, passing between advanced classrooms, council offices, specialized training rooms, and study chambers few lower-year students ever entered. There was rarely the careless noise of first-years or the restless crowding of second-years around it.
Even at its busiest, the place felt sharpened by pressure, as though the students there had no time left for wasted movement. But at night, with most of them scattered between the dining hall, dormitories, private study spaces, or whatever routines their final year demanded, the wing became something quieter.
The corridors were not completely dark. Lamps glowed along the walls, their pale light falling across polished stone floors and closed classroom doors. The banners hanging between the pillars barely moved, touched only by the faint draft passing through the enclosed passages. Somewhere far away, voices echoed briefly and vanished. A door clicked shut in another hall. Then silence returned.
In one of the many empty classrooms, the door opened with a soft click.
Chris Rature stepped inside.
He was no longer in full academy uniform. His jacket was gone, and his clothes had shifted into a more casual arrangement suited for after lessons: dark trousers, a fitted shirt, and the kind of relaxed outer layer that still looked expensive because nothing worn by the Tempest prince ever seemed truly ordinary.
His dark-colored hair was neatly arranged, and his expression carried a calm confidence that did not belong to someone sneaking into an upperclassmen’s classroom after hours.
He entered as though he had a right to be there.
Not the way a second-year might enter a third-year classroom with caution, glancing around for instructors or seniors who might ask questions. Chris moved with familiarity, one hand closing the door behind him without hurry before he crossed the room. The classroom was arranged with rows of vacant desks facing a teacher’s platform at the front. Bookshelves lined one wall, empty of personal items now that the day had ended, and a large slate board still held the faint marks of a lesson that had been erased too quickly. Moonlight slipped faintly through the tall windows, mixing with the glow of the wall lamps and painting the room in cool layers.
Chris did not look around as if searching.
He already knew where to go.