Chapter 65: The Situation
"You can rest easy, she’s stable now. Just make sure she doesn’t do... whatever it is she was attempting that caused the problem," said the woman in the black-violet gown. The white coat draped over her shoulders bore the academy’s medical insignia on the left breast pocket, marking her as one of the senior healers. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a practical bun, though a few strands had escaped to frame her tired face. She looked to be in her thirties, with the kind of weary expression that came from dealing with reckless students day after day.
"I will, thank you," the young man replied, his voice barely above a whisper as he kept his eyes fixed on the unconscious girl’s pale face.
The healer studied him for a moment, taking in his disheveled appearance and the way his fingers intertwined with the patient’s. "You should head back to your dorm. You have maybe ten minutes before curfew locks down. You’re already in hot water for missing evening roll call." Her tone carried the authority of someone used to being obeyed, but there was an undertone of sympathy there too.
The young man said nothing, his grip on the girl’s hand only tightening. His knuckles had gone white from the pressure.
The healer let out a long sigh, shaking her head as she gathered her supplies. "Young love," she muttered under her breath, more amused than annoyed. She’d seen this same scene play out countless times over the years. "Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone."
After her footsteps faded down the corridor, he finally spoke.
"We failed again." The words came out flat, defeated.
This wasn’t their first botched mission, and the weight of that failure sat heavy on his shoulders. His mind drifted back to their previous attempt during the second-year final exams. Vena had brought in someone new that time—a student named Azalea who supposedly had some skill with runic magic. Everyone knew the guy; he was that pathetic follower who trailed after Isabelle like a lost puppy, always trying to catch her attention and failing spectacularly.
But when Azalea showed up for their meeting, something had been different. Gone was the nervous, fumbling student from their classes. Instead, he carried himself with a cold confidence that made the air feel heavier. His movements were calculated, precise, and when he spoke, every word seemed chosen for maximum impact. Something in the young man’s gut had screamed not to trust him, but Vena had been adamant.
"I trust him," she’d said with more conviction than he’d ever heard from her about anyone else. That had stung more than he cared to admit. The idea that she’d grown close enough to someone else to actually trust them, especially someone like Azalea, had eaten at him. But he’d pushed those feelings aside and agreed to work with the guy.