Chapter 94: Night

She lay down and closed her eyes. The night was deep. In the distance, something was quietly sprouting in the darkness.

The night was thick like unblendable ink.

Kaer knelt in the empty room. The moonlight had long shifted, swallowing him entirely into the darkness.

He didn’t know how long he had been kneeling. His knees were already numb, his tears long dried, but Irina’s voice still echoed in his mind, over and over.

“If not for Freya…”

“In the end, it’s because of Freya…”

“If only Freya didn’t exist, that would be fine.”

That voice was light, light as a feather, yet it took root in his mind.

He closed his eyes, and Freya’s face appeared—

That eternally cold, aloof face.

The way she looked at him was like looking at something unimportant, like a speck of dust.

He snapped his eyes open, bloodshot.

“No Freya.”

He murmured the words, his voice hoarse as if squeezed from the depths of his throat.

He slowly stood up, a sharp pain shooting through his knees, but he didn’t feel it.

He walked to the bed and pulled something from under the pillow—

It was a dagger, one his father had pressed into his hands when he entered the Academy.

“For self-defense,” his father had said, his rough hand patting his shoulder. “There are all kinds of people at the Academy. Don’t let anyone bully you.”

He had never been bullied.

But now, he had nothing.

He gripped the dagger in his hand, the cool hilt against his palm.

He looked down at the blade. Moonlight shone on it, casting a cold white gleam.

He thought of the new robe his mother had sewn for him before his departure, of his father’s hunched back as he saw him off at the village entrance, of the hopeful gazes of the whole village as they pooled their money to send him to this Academy.

Now, it was all gone.

All because of that person.

He tightened his grip on the dagger and walked out.

The corridor was very dark, only the magic lamp at the end still lit, casting a dim yellow glow.

He walked over, his footsteps echoing in the empty hallway.

At this hour, most people were asleep. Occasionally one or two students returning late passed by, gave him a strange look, and hurried away.

No one noticed the dark red flame in his eyes, nor the dagger hidden in his sleeve.

He walked out of the dormitory building. The night wind hit him, chilly, but he didn’t feel cold.

He followed the stone path, his steps growing faster and faster, more and more urgent. He knew where Freya lived—

That best dormitory building, the best room, with the best lighting and the best view.

The daughter of House Dale, of course she lived in the best place.

He reached the building and looked up at that window.

The light was off, pitch black.

He stood there, stood for a long time, so long that the night wind chilled him to the bone.

Then he lowered his head and looked at the dagger in his hand.

The blade gleamed coldly in the moonlight.

Should he go up?

He didn’t know.

All he knew was that a fire was burning inside him, scorching his innards. He stood there, clutching the dagger, like a stone statue.

Upstairs, in Freya’s dorm room.

Lyra suddenly opened her eyes and sat up with a start. She didn’t know what was happening, but every hair on her body stood on end—

That feeling, like being watched by something, like something in the darkness was drawing near.

She looked at Freya’s bed. Moonlight seeped through the curtain gap, falling on Freya’s light purple hair.

She was still asleep, breathing evenly and lightly.

Lyra quietly climbed out of bed, walked to the window, and parted the curtain a sliver to look down.

Someone was standing below. In the darkness, she couldn’t see the face, only a thin silhouette standing motionless like a withered tree.

Lyra’s brow furrowed.

She stared at that figure, at the hand hanging by his side—

In that hand, something was reflecting the cold moonlight.

Her pupils contracted sharply.

She turned, walked to Freya’s bedside, crouched down, and gently shook her shoulder.

“Boss.”

Freya opened her eyes. In the darkness, those light purple eyes were still clear.

“What’s wrong?”

“Someone’s downstairs,” Lyra said, her voice very low, tense. “He’s holding a knife.”

Freya was silent for a moment, then sat up and walked to the window.

She parted the curtain and looked down.

In the moonlight, Kaer stood there, trembling all over, the dagger in his hand flashing coldly in the darkness.

She said nothing, just watched quietly.

Downstairs, Kaer stood there, trembling all over.

He didn’t know what he was waiting for, nor what he was hesitating over.

All he knew was that he couldn’t get up there—

This building’s door lock required a student ID card to open.

He couldn’t get in.

He stood there, holding the dagger, like a joke.

Then he looked up.

On the second floor, the curtain of that window moved.

He saw a silhouette, light purple hair glimmering in the moonlight.

That person stood at the window, watching him, very quiet, very calm, like looking at something unimportant.

Kaer’s hand tightened abruptly.

He glared at that window, at that figure. The red in his eyes deepened.

He wanted to charge up, to smash the door, to take that dagger—

But he just stood there.

Because he knew he couldn’t do anything.

Upstairs, Freya watched that figure, watched that dagger, for a long time.

Then she turned, walked back to the bed, and picked up the magic wand lying beside her pillow.

“Boss?” Lyra looked at her.

Freya didn’t answer.

She walked to the window, raised the wand, and a silver-white light shot from the tip, silently arcing across the night sky, landing at Kaer’s feet.

Ice crystals spread at his feet, condensing into a thin wall of ice. It wouldn’t hurt him, but it would be enough to sober him up.

Kaer lowered his head and looked at the ice wall at his feet, at that cold, transparent barrier.

He stood for a long time, then slowly released his grip.

The dagger fell to the ground with a crisp clatter.

He turned and walked away.

Under the moonlight, his shadow stretched long and long, like a hunched old man.

Upstairs, Freya lowered the wand and stood there, watching the distant back.

“Boss, he…” Lyra’s voice was a little rough.

“It’s okay,” Freya said softly.

She turned, walked back to the bed, lay down, closed her eyes, as if nothing had happened.

Lyra stood there, looking at her back, for a long time.

Then she walked over, pulled the blanket up, and covered Freya’s shoulders.

“Good night, Boss.”

“…Good night.”

Outside the window, the moon hid behind the clouds.

In the distance, a slender figure stood in the shadow of the corridor, watching that window, watching that disappearing back, the corners of her mouth lifting slightly.

Then she turned and walked into the depths of the night.

The next morning, Kaer was arrested.

It wasn’t Freya who reported it. A student on an early morning run had found the dagger abandoned on the lawn.

The blade was coated with morning dew, glinting coldly under the rising sun.

The student screamed, the cry piercing the morning’s calm, drawing the patrolling instructor, then the Disciplinary Director, and finally the Security Team.

Kaer was found in his dormitory.

He sat on the edge of the bed, facing the wall, motionless.

His eyes were swollen nearly shut, and traces of gripping the hilt still lingered on his fingers.

The Instructor questioned him, but he didn’t answer. He just kept muttering the same sentence.

“I didn’t go up… I didn’t go up…”

The Security Team took him away. As he left, he suddenly turned his head, his gaze crossing the crowd, landing on that best dormitory building in the distance.

That window was open, the curtains gently fluttering in the morning breeze. The window was empty.

He looked for a long time, then was shoved onto the carriage.

The news quickly spread throughout the entire Academy.

In the canteen, everyone was talking about it.

Some said Kaer had gone crazy, others said it was triggered by the expulsion. Still others lowered their voices, saying Kaer had gone to Irina’s place last night.

The person who said this spoke very quietly, quietly like a thief, but Anke still heard it.

“I knew it,” she said, biting her spoon, her brown eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “It’s definitely that pink-haired one causing trouble again.”

Lyra sat across from her. Today, even the meat didn’t taste good.

She gripped her fork, her red eyes fixed on the table, her mind full of last night’s scene—

That dark figure standing downstairs, that dagger flashing coldly, and Freya standing by the window, calm as a stagnant pool.

“Boss,” she said gloomily. “Why didn’t you call the police last night?”

Freya was drinking soup. Hearing this, she put down her spoon. “Call the police for what?”

“That person was holding a knife and standing downstairs! He wanted to hurt you!” Lyra’s voice rose a bit, drawing glances from several tables nearby.

She lowered her voice, but the fire in her eyes burned hotter. “Why didn’t you call the Security Team? Why didn’t you call the Instructor? You almost—”

“He didn’t come up.”

Lyra was stunned.

Freya looked at her, her gaze calm. “He stood downstairs, holding the knife, but he didn’t come up.” She paused. “He was trembling the whole time.”

Lyra opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but found she couldn’t say anything.

Freya picked up her spoon again and continued drinking her soup, her movements as graceful as ever.

“He’s just a child who made a mistake,” she said, her voice very soft. “Not a bad person.”

Lyra lowered her head and stared at the meat on her plate.

She didn’t understand these things.

She only knew that if someone wanted to hurt the Boss, that person deserved a harsh lesson.

But if the Boss said he wasn’t a bad person…

Then maybe he really wasn’t.

She gloomily poked at the meatloaf for a while, then suddenly looked up. “Then… what about the person who made him do the bad thing?”

Freya’s movements paused for a moment. She didn’t answer.

Anke also fell silent. The two exchanged a glance, both seeing the same thing in each other’s eyes.

In the corner of the canteen, Irina sat alone.

The breakfast in front of her was untouched, already cold.

She just sat there, looking out the window. Sunlight fell on her face, making her gentle features nearly transparent.

People walked past her, giving her a strange look, then hurried away.

No one knew what she was thinking, and no one saw the fingers on her lap slowly tightening.