Chapter 65: Don't Let Your Guard Down

Olivia's POV

It wasn't just quiet. It was the kind of silence where everyone was too scared to breathe. A moment ago, people had been huddled together, whispering and craning their necks to watch the drama. Now they all pulled their faces back, shrinking into themselves, not daring to say a word. The air was heavy and tight.

When I read the part about "catching the person," someone stumbled back half a step and stepped on someone else's toes. That person didn't make a sound either. The two of them retreated together.

They were looking at us. And those looks said everything—fear, disgust, resentment that didn't dare speak up.

A senior nearby had just started to move his lips when his friend yanked him back. He swallowed whatever he was going to say.

The truth was, those people still didn't like us. But they didn't dare say it anymore. After all, Ethan had the headmaster behind him now.

I could feel it all over my body. Ethan must have felt it too.

His hand slid down from my shoulder—I didn't even know when he'd put it there. Then he stepped forward, stood in front of that large parchment, and read through it again from start to finish.

"Let's go. Class is starting soon." He didn't hesitate, just turned and walked away.

"Okay."

Ethan walked toward the crowd. The crowd parted on its own.

I walked beside him through that gap. Behind us, those people slowly merged back together, but there wasn't a single sound.

Still, the warm Darkscale Ring on my neck grew slightly hot. It seemed to be telling me that their prejudice wouldn't disappear just because of one announcement.

But things didn't turn out as simple as I'd imagined.

When Ethan was around, as we walked down the corridor, everyone made way. They acted as if they hadn't seen us, keeping their distance. But after we passed, those gazes still followed us from behind.

Yesterday I went to that long corridor by the Potions classroom. People coming toward me started stepping aside from several paces away, moving so smoothly it was as if they'd planned to turn that way all along.

No one whispered. No one glanced my way. All I could hear was the sound of two pairs of shoes on the stone floor.

But when he wasn't there, it was different.

That day coming out of the training grounds, he got called away by Priscilla to check the registration materials for the selection competition. I walked back to the dorm alone. When I reached that corridor on the west side of the academic building, something hit the back of my head.

I looked down. It was a paper ball soaked in ink. It had hit my hair and rolled into a crack between the floor tiles. I bent down to pick it up. The footsteps of several people behind me suddenly quickened, tapping across the stone floor, turning the corner and disappearing. What remained were a few muffled laughs, and one that wasn't muffled—sharp, like nails on glass.

They did it on purpose. As if they could only bully me when Ethan wasn't around.

But I didn't tell Ethan any of this. He was busy too.

The next morning when I opened my eyes, I groggily saw my backpack sitting on the bedside table. That wasn't right.

Before going to sleep, I'd put it on the floor by my desk. I'd even dug through it for my notebook. It was just sitting there quietly, buckle fastened, straps folded neatly, as if no one had ever touched it.

This was the fourth time. The first time it went missing, I nearly tore the dorm apart. The second time, I wondered if I'd remembered wrong. The third time, I probably guessed what was going on but didn't want to think about it.

I took the backpack down, opened it, and dumped everything out. The notebook was there. The quill was there. Even that paper ball was there—but I clearly remembered I'd already picked it up and thrown it in the trash.

This was definitely not normal. I didn't need to think twice to know those people were doing this on purpose, just because Ethan wasn't around.

That afternoon in class, I still wasn't with him.

History of Magic class. I'd arrived early, third row by the window, textbook and notes all laid out.

The professor hadn't shown up yet. I lowered my head and flipped through two pages. Someone passed by from behind, their elbow hitting the crown of my head. Not hard, but exactly on the most sensitive spot.

My whole body lurched forward, my chin nearly hitting the desk.

"Oops, sorry about that."

I turned around. A grinning face—a girl with two braids, holding a stack of books. There wasn't a trace of actual apology on her face. "The hallway was too crowded." After saying that, she walked around to the side and sat down, dropping her books on the desk with a loud thud.

The second her weight hit the seat, several people in the row exhaled in unison. Not a laugh, but the sound of holding one back.

I turned my head back and kept looking at my book. My eyes stared at the words, but I couldn't read a single line. All I could hear was the sound of her slamming those books, and the sound of my own teeth grinding.

Jane couldn't take it anymore. She was about to turn around and argue, but I held her back. Forget it. Better to avoid trouble. And I didn't want Jane getting dragged into this too.

But by evening, the message board erupted.

Jane anxiously grabbed me and shoved those inflammatory posts at me. The third post, pinned and marked urgent: The Dragon Clan's 'Not Pursuing It'—Who's Really Not Pursuing Who?

I clicked in. It was a series of enchanted images of that wolf clan guy who got beaten for stealing Ethan's stuff last time. He was standing in the dorm hallway, turned to the side, with a huge bruise on his shoulder blade, stretching from his shoulder to his lower back. There was also a dark ring of marks around his wrist, the outline of fingers crystal clear. The second image was a close-up, with a tricky angle and tricky lighting that made the injuries look twice as bad as they really were.

The caption was long. The gist was that this guy's name was Killian, and he was involved in that Eastridge Tower incident. The academy's announcement said the dragon clan wasn't pursuing it, so who was going to answer for these injuries on his body? He claimed he'd just gone through the wrong door, wanted to return a book, and then got pinned against the wall with claws nearly piercing through his wrist.

He didn't write my name, just mentioned once—"that female student who was present at the time."

Someone added in the margins:

[Olivia, the one who's always stuck to that dragon.]

[She didn't seem to do anything, just stood there watching. But I think she wasn't watching—she was being held captive. She didn't dare.]

Those words gave me a terrible headache.

I kept reading through every line. Some people said they'd seen bruises on my arm in Potions class, which must have come from the dragon. Some said I wasn't learning healing arts for the competition, but to heal myself, because the dragon would hurt me every so often and couldn't let anyone know. Some said I always wore long sleeves to cover it up.

I found it ridiculous. They actually painted me as someone being held captive?

I clenched my fist. If I could just close the page, the pain would fade away.

But I still couldn't help myself. I read through every line.

Jane watched me with a worried face. She wanted to say something, her mouth slightly open, but no sound came out. After a few seconds, she finally spoke. "They're going too far. None of this is true."

"I know." Didn't I know my own situation?

I wished I really could be locked up by Ethan. And then lose myself with him. Until I couldn't think straight—that wouldn't be too much.

They wanted to embarrass me, wanted to get revenge on Ethan, wanted to pin the label of "abuser" on him, wanted to turn me into a "victim" to win others' "sympathy," and drive a wedge between us.

Even though we'd already been through so much, right now I felt uneasy for no reason.

Would he go back to how he was when we first met because of all this? Would he pull away from me? Would he start blaming himself again because he was worried about me?

I was scared. Scared that this relationship would fall apart because of those words. That uneasy feeling was like a wave, drowning me.

Before long, there was a knock at the dorm door. Knuckles tapping, very light, rhythmic.

I nervously climbed off the bed to open the door. Ethan stood in the doorway.

He looked at my face for about three seconds. I looked at him too. His expression was about the same as usual, mouth closed, jaw tight and straight.

I spoke, my tone nervous, my voice trembling slightly.

"Those things... did you see them?"