Villainous Instructor at the Academy

I didn’t leave my quarters the next morning.

Which, for a man like Lucian Drelmont, was cause for gossip.

A dozen students probably whispered that I’d drunk myself unconscious. Others might’ve guessed I’d finally snapped from the stress of pretending to care about their futures.

They were wrong.

I was simply being careful.

There’s a saying in Sūyara: "If your reflection starts speaking first, stop listening second."

Smart advice.

Especially now that I was beginning to suspect mine was doing just that.

I sat on the cold stone floor, legs folded, fingers dancing across the Grimoire. The ink still pulsed—softly, faintly—with a second heartbeat.

Not mine.

Not anymore.