Chapter 64 The Academy's Official Notice

Chapter 64 The Academy's Official Notice

His tone was flat. Then he added, "Probably because of what happened tonight."

The letter had come too suddenly, and yet too perfectly on time. It was as if the headmaster already knew everything that had happened—and knew it fast.

Ethan picked up his coat from the back of the chair and pulled it on, covering the torn fabric across his back. I stared at that rip for a moment. It had been torn from the inside out by scales. The edges were ragged, splitting from his shoulder blades all the way down to his waist.

On each side of his spine, there were two claw holes. The fabric around them had turned yellow and brittle. Through the openings, I could see his back. His skin was smooth now—no scales, just the faint dip of his spinal groove.

But I still remembered clearly what it had looked like with the scales underneath.

He folded the letter and tucked it into his pocket. Behind him, the broken door hung open. Wind from the hallway poured in, yanking the wall lamp flames back and forth.

His shadow stretched long across the stone floor, perfectly still. No churning, no spreading ink. Just the ordinary gray-black shape thrown by the lamplight.

I stared at that ordinary shadow for a few seconds, then followed him out and pulled the door shut.

The whole way, we were terrifyingly quiet. Usually we talked about everything, shared everything. But now we walked in silent agreement. The wind roared in our ears. I don't know how long we walked until that figure stood in the moonlight.

"So, you know why I called you here?"

The hallway twisted and turned. The lamp flames had all burned low, blueish, lighting the pits in the stone bricks in patches of light and shadow.

I followed behind him, my eyes fixed on the back of his neck. His collar covered most of it, but there was a scale mark. When we passed under a lamp, it would flash—dark blue—then disappear.

"You're walking too fast," I said to his back.

He didn't stop. "No, I'm not."

"You have long legs. You wouldn't notice."

He slowed by half a step. Just half a step. I caught up to walk beside him, swung my hand, and brushed his. Without thinking, I grabbed it—not his wrist, but his fingers. They were cool, with that cut under my fingertip from twisting the tenon. A little rough.

"Are you still angry?" I asked, tilting my head.

He didn't answer. His hand turned over in mine, his fingers threading between mine and clasping back. Not too hard, not too soft. Just enough to wrap around my whole hand.

Then he pulled me a little toward him. Not pulling my hand—pulling me. My shoulder bumped against his arm, through his coat, through those tears underneath, and below that, his skin that hadn't completely cooled down.

The office door was ajar. Warm yellow light leaked through the crack, drawing a thin gold line along the floor.

Headmaster Cedric sat behind his desk. Parchment was piled almost to the ceiling. His glasses rested on an old book, and he held a quill with ink long since dried on the tip—he clearly hadn't written anything in a while.

That owl was curled up on the armrest of his chair, rolled into a pale gold ball of light. Its wing tips twitched as it slept.

"Come in." He put his glasses back on, closed the book, and nodded at us. "Close the door."

My legs were still stiff as I walked in. Not because I was afraid of Cedric, but because everything from tonight was stuck in my throat—the Blood Moon, the attic, the scales, the fight. All tangled together. I couldn't get it out.

Ethan stood still behind me. Back straight, both hands in his coat pockets, his face showing nothing.

"Mr. Graham—"

"Sit." Cedric pointed at the two old chairs in front of the desk. Their fabric was covered in patches.

I sat down, but Ethan didn't. He leaned half a step toward me and just stood there like a stone pillar.

I reached out and tugged the hem of his coat. He looked down at me. I squeezed my eyes at him. Only then did he pull the other chair over and sit. The chair legs scraped across the stone floor with a loud screech.

Cedric watched the whole routine, his eyes narrowing behind his lenses, the corner of his mouth curving up just a little. Not that kind of elder smile—like watching kids play around.

"No need to apologize," he said first, cutting off the words I hadn't managed to squeeze out yet. "Your eyes already said sorry for him."

My mouth opened and closed. Beside me, Ethan sat motionless, his face turned toward the wall lamp, as if that lamp was more interesting than this conversation.

"Mr. Morgan." Cedric took off his glasses, dangled them from his fingertips, then put them back on and looked straight at him through the lenses. "Do you think I'm going to punish you?"

Ethan's jaw moved. No hesitation. "Yes."

"It's not a punishment." Cedric put the quill back in its holder. "The academy received a magic report. The door to Eastridge Tower was forced open. Those three wolves were going through your things when they entered. Without your permission. Without asking you. Without any notice to you. They stepped into your territory first."

I leaned forward, my heart tightening. "So—"

"So he's not the one in the wrong." Cedric took off his glasses to wipe them, held them up to the light, then put them back on. "He reported his bloodline information when he enrolled. Dragon territory violation carries instinctive defense rights. What happened tonight didn't exceed that range. And someone pulled him back at the end, so he didn't cause any irreversible harm." He glanced at me, quickly, then back at Ethan. "I'm not pursuing it."

I couldn't keep my voice down. My ears were ringing. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Really?"

"Really."

I turned and grabbed his forearm, my voice going high-pitched. "Did you hear that? He's not pursuing it."

He looked down at my hand, then at my face. His lips moved. "I heard."

His voice was very low. His throat still sounded tight. "Lighter with your hand. That spot got hit earlier."

"Who told you not to say anything the whole time? I thought you didn't care."

"I do care." After saying that, he turned his head away and went back to staring at that wall lamp, as if those three words hadn't been said by him.

But his eyes really did brighten. It looked like something that had been pressed down for who knows how long had finally been pulled out by someone.

I slid my hand down from his forearm and casually patted the spot that wasn't swollen. I felt somewhat relieved.

Coming out of the office, the hallway was completely dark. I walked beside him, neither of us speaking. But the atmosphere was different from when we had come.

The next morning, the teaching building entrance was surrounded several layers deep. The bulletin board was packed shoulder to shoulder. People in the back were grabbing the shoulders of those in front, and those in front were pressed against the stone wall. I'd only seen this scene on sorting day at the start of term.

I didn't know what had happened. I stood on tiptoe curiously, but still couldn't see. So I grabbed Ethan's wrist and pushed through.

"Excuse me. Let me through," I muttered as I squeezed. Two girls next to me turned around together, saw it was Ethan, and simultaneously jumped back a step, stepping on each other's heels without bothering to cry out.

Right in the middle of the bulletin board was nailed a large sheet of parchment with a gold thread border. The headmaster's wax seal was stamped at the bottom. The ink was still moist—clearly just put up this morning.

"You read it," Ethan said behind me, his voice coming from above my head.

"You're taller than me. Can't you see?" I muttered.

"I can see. But I want to hear you read it." Ethan's mouth curved up—if I really wasn't seeing things.

"You're really something else," I cursed him quietly, but I still obediently stood on tiptoe and read from top to bottom.

The first half was about what happened last night. The wolves broke down the door without permission. Ethan's defense didn't exceed the necessary range—no punishment. Those wolves were under disciplinary investigation. 

The second half was about cleaning up the forum. No more tolerating those ugly posts. Reported posts would be traced back to individuals. They were even implementing a full real-name system, canceling anonymous posting and commenting privileges.

I finished reading. The crowd around us fell completely silent.