I got dressed slowly, still half lost in the fog of last night. Every movement felt heavier than usual, like gravity had somehow doubled just for me. My tie was slightly off, my shirt not as crisp as it usually was, but I didn't care. I was too wrapped up in my own head—wondering what the hell had happened and why I couldn't remember anything beyond the terrace and her eyes.
The walk to the Academy was a blur. The usual buzz of students, the crisp morning air of Francés brushing against my cheeks, none of it registered. I was too focused on trying to glue together fragments of a night that felt like a nightmare.
From the moment I stepped into the Academy, I could feel it.
The shift.
People I'd grown used to nodding at looked away. The ones I'd shared conversations with over coffee breaks or group discussions acted like I was invisible. A couple of them whispered under their breath, eyes cold, judgmental. Rose's friends—those polished little elites—were especially distant. Not one smile. Not one hello.
I tried to approach one of them, Cedric or something—he barely acknowledged me, just muttered something and walked off.
I clenched my jaw, keeping my face neutral. Maybe it was something else. Maybe I was just paranoid. But deep down, I knew better.
Then, in between classes, someone tugged at my sleeve.
"Castor," a quiet voice said.
I turned to see Lily Oriana—sharp eyes, honey-blonde hair tied in a neat ponytail, expression calm but calculated. She was one of Rose's closer acquaintances, not exactly a best friend, but the type who knew things. She studied me for a second before gesturing toward the side corridor. I followed her, not entirely sure what she wanted.
She turned once we were away from the others.
"Where's Rose?" she asked bluntly.
I blinked. "What?"
"She didn't show up today. And from what I hear, you were the last one seen with her last night. On the terrace."
I kept my expression steady. "She confessed. I told her I needed time to think about it. Then... I don't really remember. I passed out. I figured someone carried me home or something."
She narrowed her eyes, trying to read through me. "And you expect me to believe that?"
I shrugged, forcing a breath through my lungs. "Believe what you want. I didn't do anything to her."
There was a pause—just long enough to become uncomfortable—before she stepped back.
"If I find out you hurt her," she said softly, "I will destroy you."
She didn't wait for a reply, just walked off, heels clicking against the floor like gunshots.
I stood there, pulse ringing in my ears. The pressure was building again. Something was wrong.
I needed to figure out what the hell had happened that night—before someone else did.
I skipped my first class. Then the second. Every corridor I walked felt colder, every glance I caught in passing laced with suspicion. The air at the Academy had turned sour, and I couldn't pretend to sit through lectures with this storm cloud pressing into my skull.
I wasn't just confused—I was paranoid. My head was a loop of questions I didn't have answers to. What the hell happened on the terrace? Why was I back in my room with no memory of how I got there? And more importantly… where the hell was Rose?
I turned a corner and almost crashed into someone. My reflexes kicked in just fast enough to sidestep before we collided.
It was Ethan.
He stared at me for a second, frowning, then looked away as if he didn't even want to acknowledge me.
I spoke first. "Ethan."
He stopped but didn't say anything.
"Did I come back to the dorms last night?"
A pause.
Then, a short nod. "Yeah. You did."
That was a relief. A small one, but still.
"You were acting weird though," he added, his voice colder than usual. "Didn't say a word. Just went straight to your room and locked the door."
I blinked. "Did I… say anything? Do anything off?"
Ethan scoffed under his breath. "No more than usual."
I winced a little at that.
"You're not talking to me now?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Dunno. Depends. You look like you're hiding something, Castor. You've looked like that for a while."
I didn't know what to say to that. He had every right to be suspicious. I couldn't even trust myself right now.
"I'm just… trying to figure things out," I muttered.
"Figure them out fast," Ethan said, brushing past me. "Because people are already starting to talk."
And just like that, I was alone in the hallway again, the silence louder than before.
The whispers followed me everywhere. I didn't have to hear the exact words to know what they were saying. I saw the looks, the way people would stop talking the moment I walked into a room, the subtle nudges and glances behind my back. I wasn't dumb. I could feel it—the tension, the suspicion, the fear.
Rose hadn't come back after the party.
And I was the last one seen with her.
They were connecting dots. Dots I didn't even remember drawing.
I kept thinking about the terrace. Her words. The way she looked at me when she confessed. And then… nothing. Just black. Like someone had sliced a piece out of my timeline.
The only part of the story I remembered was standing on the terrace with her under the soft shimmer of city lights, drink in hand, trying to form an answer. But after that? Not a damn thing.
Now, every time I walked through the halls, people watched me like I was a ticking bomb. Some with curiosity, some with fear, and others with disgust. I tried to push through it, tried to act normal, but I could feel the noose tightening.
And the worst part?
I didn't even know if they were wrong.
From being the most liked commoner to the most suspicious commoner, way to go, Whitmore.
I was spiraling, and I knew it. Every step I took down the crowded hallways of Dicarthen felt like walking through a war zone—dodging glances, whispers, the occasional shove. I needed to talk to someone. Anyone who didn't look at me like I was the villain of some horror story.
Snowflake came to mind first. Of course she did. She always did. But the truth was, her obsession with me—her strange fascination, the way she always looked like she knew things she shouldn't—was starting to get under my skin. I couldn't talk to her. Not about this. Not when I wasn't even sure what "this" was.
No, I needed Isla.
She was the only one here who felt real. Not fake-friendly, not obsessive, not distant or scared. Isla was… Isla. And if there was anyone in this Academy I could talk to without losing more of my mind, it was her.
I started making my way toward the east wing where she usually studied during breaks. I just needed to see her face, hear her voice, let some of this weight fall off me for a second—
I didn't even get to take another step before a hand yanked me by the collar and dragged me into one of the alcoves near the library wing. I was about to protest, confused and half-ready to throw a punch, when a hand clamped over my mouth.
"Quiet," a soft but commanding voice said.
My back hit the wall. Her hand stayed firm. Blonde hair. Golden eyes. A glimmer of control in everything she did.
Stella Aurelius. The vice president of Dicarthen.
She glanced around, making sure no one was watching, then finally took her hand off my mouth. I stared at her, still catching my breath, as the corner of her lips curled ever so slightly—not a smile, not quite—but something else. Amusement? Or maybe warning.
"You're a hard man to find, Castor," she said, voice low.
"What the hell was that for?" I snapped, wiping my mouth.
"I didn't want to cause a scene," she replied coolly. "And you've already got enough of those."
I narrowed my eyes. "If this is about Rose, I don't—"
Stella's golden eyes didn't waver as she studied me in that narrow, dim corridor. The way she stood—shoulders squared, back straight, arms loosely crossed—there was an elegance to her that never quite softened the danger in her tone.
"I didn't drag you here just to talk about Rose," she said, her voice still low.
I frowned. "Then what?"
She stepped forward again, closing the distance between us with barely a sound. "I need your help with something... sensitive."
That caught me off guard. Me? She was the vice president of the student council, practically royalty at Dicarthen. What the hell would she need from someone like me?
"You've got the reputation," she went on, like reading my thoughts. "People talk. Say you're clever, manipulative, unhinged… which means you're the perfect type for the mess I'm dealing with."
I couldn't help but let out a quiet laugh. "Well, that's flattering."
She didn't laugh. "There's a professor—Dr. Vern Hale. Teaches Ancient Magic Theory. I believe he's involved in some… unauthorized experiments with students."
I was half-expecting her to say Jonathon, I got it in for him.
My brow furrowed. "What kind of experiments?"
Her jaw tightened. "On their minds. Their memories. Their identities. One student in my department went missing for three days. Came back… wrong. Detached. Hollow. I tried asking her about it, but she had no memory of the missing time."
My eyes narrowed. That didn't sound like your typical creepy professor story. But I knew there were some unhinged undercover bastards in Dicarthen too.
"You're good at getting people to open up, Castor," she said. "You pretend well. You blend in. You've got no real loyalty to the council, or the professors. I need someone like that to dig where I can't."
Even I didn't appreciate my talents like she did.
"You've got the whole school under your thumb," I muttered. "Why me?"
She gave a small shrug. "Because you're invisible to them in all the right ways. And... because I've seen how far you're willing to go."
Something about that sentence stuck in the back of my throat like a thorn. I wasn't sure if it was a compliment or a warning.
"And what's in it for me?" I asked.
She stepped even closer, almost within reach, and lowered her voice to a whisper. "If you help me… I can bury the Rose situation. Make the rumors disappear. Make you disappear. Like you never existed that night."
Now I understood. Leverage. This was essentially a perfect deal for me. Part of me thinks Stella waited all this time for an opportunity like this so she could propose something of equal. It's true, with Stella or the Aurelius' reputation, most of my "potential" involvement in Rose's case disappear.
Stella Aurelius wasn't just asking for a favor. She was handing me a loaded gun with one hand, and holding a noose with the other.
And despite how much it reeked of manipulation, I was... tempted.
If I wanted to find clues about Marienne or reach the Great Houses, I needed to keep a better reputation.
Stella extended her gloved hand toward me—steady, unwavering, just like her gaze. I hesitated for a second, thoughts racing. This wasn't just a favor; it was a pact. A potential escape rope from the mess I left behind.
Or maybe another noose. I couldn't really tell anymore.
I shook her hand.
"Good," she said, as if she'd known I'd say yes from the start. "Start with his lectures. He always selects a handful of students for 'after-hours guidance.' See if you can get in."
"I'll look into it," I replied, voice cool, calm. Like I hadn't just signed myself into something far deeper than it seemed.
She turned and walked away, heels clicking down the corridor like a closing deal.
Now... Isla.
I needed someone who wouldn't treat me like a threat or a ticking bomb. Someone who still looked at me like a person and not a monster with a mask.
But as I turned the corner of the library's west wing, I collided with a firm chest. I stumbled slightly and looked up, only to meet a familiar pair of dark blue eyes—sharp, cold, and calculating.
Edward Aurelius.
Of course.
He looked down at me like I was a stain on his shirt. "Castor Whitmore," he said, voice smooth but laced with disdain. "You've been making... waves."
I gave a casual smirk. "And yet, I didn't even know I could swim."
He didn't laugh.
He stepped closer, his presence towering over mine. There was something about him—less refined than Stella, more blunt force than finesse. If she was the dagger beneath velvet, he was the iron hammer to the skull.
"You were the last person seen with Rose Ravencroft," he said bluntly.
The smirk fell. "So everyone keeps reminding me."
His eyes narrowed. "She's missing. And I don't like when people from my circle start disappearing."
I tilted my head. "And what are you planning to do about it? Punch the truth out of me?"
A faint smile appeared on his face, humorless. "No. I let people like you unravel on their own. I just watch."
"Comforting."
He leaned in, his voice dropping. "Stella may play her little games with you, but don't mistake her interest for protection. She's only loyal to herself. When the time comes, she'll throw you to the wolves to save her crown."
And just like that, he stepped past me and disappeared into the crowd, his presence lingering like the aftertaste of poison.
I stood there for a moment, pulse steady, mind racing.
Snowflake was obsessed. Ethan was silent. Rose was… gone. And now both Stella and Edward had their claws in this.
But Isla… maybe Isla could still ground me. Maybe.
I kept walking.
Until I found her.
I saw her.
Isla.
Just beyond the courtyard archway, sunlight falling against her hair like some calm promise. For a moment, something warm broke through the mess inside me. Relief. Familiarity. Sanity.
I ran toward her, words ready to fall out—confessions, paranoia, anything—until suddenly, everything turned red.
Not metaphorically. Not symbolically.
Red.
Bright, liquid red. On my hands.
I froze mid-step.
My chest rose and fell like I'd sprinted a mile, but my legs wouldn't move. The noise of the academy faded into a low hum, replaced by a sharp ringing in my ears. My fingers trembled, sticky with a memory I didn't want.
The cellar.
Ropes.
Her voice screaming for help.
Glass shattering.
A dull thud. My laughter echoing off stone.
What did I do?
My breath caught in my throat. The world swam sideways. I looked around wildly, but everyone around me was moving like nothing had happened—like I wasn't splattered with something I couldn't wash off.
Then—
"Castor!"
The voice sounded distant at first, but then it came again. Clearer, more urgent.
"Castor!"
I blinked, forcing myself to focus on the sound. When I finally looked up, everything in front of me parted like the sea in the presence of something immense.
She was there. Standing like a figure carved from ice—perfect, cold, unyielding.
Ovari Helios.
Dicarthen's Student Council President. A walking symbol of authority and control. I barely had time to react before she was in front of me, crouching down to look at me with eyes that felt like they could see straight through my soul.
"You look… disturbed," she said, her voice a mix of cold curiosity and subtle disapproval. "Sweating, pale, out of focus. Not the kind of presence I'd expect from someone walking through school hours."
I couldn't answer. My mouth felt dry, my heart racing. The blood on my hands—what had happened? Was it real? Was it a memory? A dream? I couldn't tell. I could barely even breathe, let alone speak.
Ovari's gaze lingered, analyzing, calculating, as if she were trying to piece together a puzzle I couldn't even see.
"I believe you and I need to talk," she continued, standing straight, her posture perfect and composed. She wasn't asking. It wasn't a suggestion. It was a command. "Now."
I wanted to protest, to say something—anything—but all I could do was nod. I didn't have a choice. Ovari Helios didn't give you a choice.
And as she turned, her sharp heels clicking against the floor, I stood up, my legs shaky as I followed her. Whatever had happened to me, whatever I had done, I knew one thing for sure: I was not getting out of this unscathed.
I sat in the student council office, the cool leather of the chair pressing against my back. The room felt too quiet, the walls pressing in, suffocating me. Ovari sat across from me, watching me with an unreadable expression, her eyes piercing through me like she was waiting for me to crack open and spill everything.
I didn't want to crack. I didn't want to break. But there was a part of me, a raw, bleeding part, that just couldn't hold it together anymore. I could feel the tension in my chest, like something was trying to burst out, but I didn't know how to make it stop. She was waiting, but I couldn't figure out how to start. How could I even begin to explain?
She leaned forward, just slightly, her gaze softening. "Castor," she said quietly, her voice like the first drop of rain after a long dry spell. "What's wrong? You don't have to hide it from me. I know something happened. You can tell me."
The floodgates were there, but I couldn't find the strength to open them. I opened my mouth, and nothing came out. I didn't know where to start—Rose, the party, the blood, everything. It felt like a tangled mess in my head, a series of disconnected memories that weren't even mine. It felt like I was watching someone else's nightmare unfold in front of me. I didn't even know who I was anymore. Who had I become?
The words bubbled up, but they didn't come out right, all twisted and wrong. "I... I don't know what's happening to me." My voice shook, and I hated it. I hated sounding weak. "I did something. I hurt someone. I... I don't remember, but..."
I couldn't finish the sentence. Tears started to burn at the edges of my eyes, and I wiped them away quickly, trying to maintain some semblance of control, but it didn't help. They kept coming, unstoppable, flooding down my cheeks.
"I don't know who I am anymore," I whispered, my voice breaking on the words. "I don't know what I'm doing. I just—" I paused, my chest tightening, struggling for air. "I didn't want to be like this. I didn't want to hurt anyone, especially not her. I never... I never wanted any of this to happen. But it's all I can think about, all I can feel, and I can't stop it. I don't know how."
The tears kept coming, faster now, like the dam had finally broken, and there was no way to hold it back. The shame, the guilt—it was overwhelming. I felt like I was drowning in it. I had made a promise to myself not to fall apart like this. Not to break. But here I was, completely exposed.
Before I even knew what was happening, Ovari moved from her seat. Her presence was solid, comforting in a way I hadn't expected, and in an instant, she was beside me, her arms wrapped around me, pulling me into an embrace.
I froze at first, not knowing what to do. This wasn't something I had ever allowed myself to feel—this kind of comfort. I was always the one who held everything together, never letting anyone close enough to see the cracks. But Ovari... she didn't let go. She just held me there, her warmth pressing against me, her grip tight enough that I couldn't push her away.
"It's okay," she murmured softly. "It's okay to feel lost, to feel broken. But you don't have to go through this alone." Her voice was calm, reassuring, like she was telling me that it was alright to fall apart, that it was alright to be weak for a moment.
I buried my face in her shoulder, too exhausted to fight the feeling that surged through me. "I don't deserve this," I choked out, my voice muffled. "I don't deserve to be saved. Not after what I've done."
Her hand moved up to my back, rubbing small circles, soothing me. "Everyone deserves to be saved, Castor. Even you. Don't forget that."
For the first time in what felt like forever, I let myself be comforted. I let myself break. Letting out a sob, I clung to her, unable to stop. I didn't know if I was crying because of what I had done or because I was so afraid that I was losing myself, but it didn't matter. For once, I didn't have to hold it in. For once, I didn't have to be Castor the cold, detached one. I could just be broken.
And that was terrifying. But at that moment, in her arms, I didn't feel so alone.
I pulled away slightly, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, the tears still stinging but not quite as sharp as before. Ovari didn't pull back, though. She was still there, close, and I could feel the weight of the silence hanging between us. It was hard to gather my thoughts, but I needed to say this. I needed to make it clear to her.
"You know," I started, my voice hoarse but steady now, "earlier, you called me Castor. Not Whitmore. That's... the first time you did that, no?"
Her brow furrowed slightly, but she didn't interrupt. I knew she was waiting for me to continue, so I did. "I know I've made a mess of everything. And I know you've offered me a way out—joining the student council, becoming a part of something bigger. I can see the benefits, really. It could be a way to start fresh. But I—"
I paused, the words sticking in my throat for a second. The thought of joining the council, of becoming part of something bigger, sounded so simple, so tempting. But I couldn't. Not now. Not when there was still so much unfinished. My mind was too clouded with questions, with anger, with a need for revenge that was slowly consuming me. I was still tangled up in all of it.
"I can't accept your offer, Ovari," I finally said, my voice more resolute than before. "I have a bigger goal. I have something I need to finish first."
Her eyes searched mine, a mix of concern and curiosity in them. "What do you mean?" she asked softly.
"I'm going to find out what really happened to Rose," I said, my voice growing colder with every word. "I'm going to make sure she gets what she deserves. And I'll do whatever it takes to uncover the truth."
The words hung in the air, the weight of them settling around us. I could see Ovari's expression shift, her concern deepening. "Castor, you're not thinking clearly. I understand that you're upset about what happened, but you can't let this consume you. If you keep going down this path, you're only going to hurt yourself more."
But I shook my head, the fire inside me burning brighter. "I've already hurt myself, Ovari. What happened with Rose—it's just the tip of the iceberg. There's so much more I need to uncover. And I won't stop until I get to the bottom of it."
I could see her opening her mouth to say something, but I cut her off, not wanting to hear any more reasons to stop. "I appreciate the offer, really. But I can't take it. Not now. Not until I've done what I need to do."
Ovari was silent for a long moment, her eyes never leaving mine. "Just... don't lose yourself, Castor," she finally said, her voice softer. "Whatever you're searching for, don't let it turn you into something you can't come back from."
Her words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. I nodded, though I knew deep down that it was already too late. I had already crossed a line I couldn't undo. And I wasn't sure I even wanted to anymore.
I walked out of the student council office, my resolve solidifying with each step. Ovari's words still lingered in my mind, but I pushed them aside. I couldn't afford to let myself be swayed now. There was a goal to pursue—answers to find. No more distractions, no more uncertainties. I had to find out what happened to Rose, no matter what.
As I walked down the corridor, a sudden presence made me pause. Before I could react, I saw Sophie Wood—Snowflake's best friend—standing before me. Her piercing eyes met mine, and for a brief moment, I could see the calculation behind them. There was something different about her now, something hidden, something that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
Without a word, she stepped closer, leaning in with a serious look in her eyes. I opened my mouth to say something—anything—but she pressed a slip of paper into my hand, her fingers brushing mine in a quick, almost imperceptible motion.
Then, before I could say a word, she was gone. She slipped away down the hallway, her footsteps soft, leaving me standing there in stunned silence.
I looked down at the paper in my hand, my heart thudding in my chest. Slowly, I unfolded it, every muscle in my body tense with anticipation. The note was brief, but the words were sharp, clear:
"I know who killed Rose."
My breath hitched. I stared at the note, trying to comprehend what it meant. Sophie? How did she know? What did she know? Was she involved? The questions flooded my mind, each one more frantic than the last.
I couldn't just stand here. My mind raced as I clutched the note in my hand. Someone knew. Someone had the answers I was desperately searching for. I had to find her again. I had to figure out what she knew, and more importantly, what game she was playing.
But before I could think any further, a cold dread washed over me. This—whatever Sophie was trying to tell me—was only going to lead me deeper into the chaos. And I wasn't sure if I was ready for what that meant.