The laughter died instantly.
Water still rippled, echoing faintly against the marble.
The students stared at Dean Ancelot — confused, frightened, and ashamed.
Trisha spoke first, her voice shaky but defensive.
"Dean… we didn't know you'd arrived."
Ancelot didn't answer immediately. He walked slowly across the marble floor, his boots echoing like thunder in a cathedral. His gaze traveled across each of them — disappointment deeper than anger.
"You've mistaken luxury for achievement," he finally said.
Silence fell heavier. Even the fountains seemed to stop — as if the villa itself sensed the shift in power.
---
He gathered them all in the hall. His words weren't loud, but every syllable landed like a strike.
"Two days. That's all it took for you to forget why you're here — to let comfort dull your edge."
Slitah tried to defend himself.
> "We were only waiting for you, sir—"
The dean cut him off.
"You waited for me to tell you when to think? When to move? When to remember your purpose?"
Eghosa, silent until now, lowered her gaze. Guilt weighed heavier than words.
Trisha's voice cracked.
"We didn't mean to… we were just tired."
The dean's tone softened slightly.
"Tired is when the enemy strikes. Tired is when kingdoms fall."
He turned to Trisha directly.
> "I expected more from you, Prefect."
Then he faced them all.
"A day. That's all I give you. One day to decide if I've spoken nonsense or truth.
If by then you haven't found your discipline again—forget about me."
Without another word, the dean stormed out.
---
Dimitri had seen everything from the corner of the courtyard. His heart raced — he could barely wait to report to Cairn.
Meanwhile, the villa grew quiet. The students retreated to their rooms, too embarrassed to speak.
When the servants called them for dinner, they gathered reluctantly around the long silver table. None could eat. Every bite felt heavy.
Eghosa finally spoke, breaking the uneasy silence.
"We can't go on like this. We should start training again."
The others nodded weakly. Their agreement sounded more like surrender than resolve.
Luxury had gotten to them. All they wanted now was more of it, not the effort to earn it.
The air felt colder. The unity they once shared was gone.
Trisha whispered,
"Something's different."
Eghosa nodded slowly.
> "Maybe it's supposed to be."
---
That night, after their failed dinner, Eghosa walked into the courtyard alone.
The air was sharp and cold, the villa quiet. The pool reflected the stars above like a mirror to a forgotten world.
She began to train — punches, stretches, steady breaths.
Moments later, Trisha joined her. Then Slitah. Then Velibrum. Then Leonard.
No words were exchanged — only motion, the rhythm of sweat and effort.
From the shadows, Dean Ancelot watched silently, arms folded.
"Good," he murmured.
"He never left," Trisha whispered to Eghosa. "He was watching."
The dean's stealth was frightening — his patience even more so.
---
Far away, Dimitri rushed to deliver his report. He found Cairn and Melissa in the training hall.
They were always there. Always training.
Cairn swung his blade with perfect precision, Melissa's spear slicing through the air beside him.
Dimitri couldn't understand them — nobles who could live in ease but instead chased perfection like madness.
He thought, They say nobles have it easy. But from what I've seen, they work harder than the poor — their hunger just wears silk instead of dust.
Cairn's voice snapped him back.
"Well? Speak."
"Sir Cairn," Dimitri said nervously, "it's a matter of concern. The dean of one of the universities has returned."
Cairn turned sharply. "Which one?"
"The University of Candor, sir. I saw everything myself."
Cairn frowned. "So… he's already back. The deans weren't meant to arrive until tomorrow."
He looked toward the dark corner, where the young man with the green hair sat reading.
"What do you think? Your plan seems to be cracking."
The young man didn't look up. His calm voice slid through the silence like a blade wrapped in silk.
"This changes nothing. Allow the others to regroup with their students. Everything is already in motion."
Cairn's expression hardened. "You're saying we've already won?"
A faint smile touched the young man's lips.
"Victory isn't decided in battle, Lord Cairn. It's decided long before — when the mind begins to break."
Cairn and Melissa exchanged a glance, unsure what he meant. But they said nothing. They went back to training.
And in the corner, the young man turned a page of his children's book and smiled faintly into the darkness.
---
Back at the villa, the students trained for hours — fatigue setting in, but guilt driving them forward.
Their movements grew sharper, their breathing steadier. Art, combat, science — all disciplines revived.
Sweat and effort stained the marble courtyard.
Finally, Dean Ancelot stepped forward, out of the shadows.
They froze immediately, heads bowed.
His gaze swept across them.
"I've watched your training," he said.
"If I were a stranger, I might be fooled into thinking this was how you always trained.
But I know better."
He stepped closer.
"Where is the spirit I once saw in your eyes?
Where is the drive? The motive?"
His voice lowered.
"You train like you're doing it for me — or because it's the right thing. But I remember a time when you had your own reasons."
He paused, then said quietly,
> "Stop training. Take a moment — alone or together — and ask yourselves why you want to win.
If you can't answer that… then forfeit this competition now."
---
That night, none of them could sleep.
Each sat in silence within their room, hearts restless and heavy.
Eventually, they all found themselves walking toward the same destination — Trisha's door.
By chance or fate, they arrived at the same time.
"Oh, you're here to see her too?" Velibrum asked.
"Yeah," Slitah replied.
Leonard folded his arms. "We can all go in together."
Eghosa nodded. "Let's."
They knocked.
Trisha opened the door — her face streaked with tears. She looked exhausted.
They entered quietly. For a long while, no one spoke.
Then Trisha took a breath.
"Okay. I'll start. The dean told us to rediscover our reason — our motivation.
I'll go first."
She looked down.
"I want to apologize to all of you — as your prefect — for not being a good example these past few days. For that, I'm sorry.
And now… my reason.
I live with my aunt and uncle — they've sponsored my education all this time. My father is dead.
My mother… she's half alive. She suffers from a disease called Tuminucs. It eats dreams, not flesh. There's no cure — not one money can buy. Only status.
That's what I need — status enough to save her. That's my drive."
The room was silent. Tears filled their eyes.
Then Slitah spoke.
"My parents are drowning in debt. It started when my father was framed for a crime he didn't commit. I want to become a lawyer — to make sure that never happens again."
Velibrum took a breath next.
"I've read too many history books. I once wanted to be a hero. But I've learned that heroism demands sacrifice — peace, time, self.
Now I just want a quiet, earned life — a life that means something. That's my motivation."
Leonard spoke last before Eghosa.
"I'm doing this to regain my family's honor. I'm a fallen noble. My house was erased from record. I'll restore it — with my name or my blood."
They turned to Eghosa. She hesitated. Trisha reached out and held her hand.
Eghosa's voice trembled.
"I lost my father when I was little. My mother raised us alone. My two older sisters… they brought shame to our family.
My brother — he works every day, every hour, just to keep us fed and sheltered. I want to be strong enough to help him — to bring pride back to my family. That's my reason."
She didn't notice when the tears began. But once she did, they didn't stop.
Soon, everyone was crying — not from pain, but from rediscovery.
In that small room, guilt became unity again.
They embraced — not as competitors, but as family reborn by shared purpose.
And outside, hidden in shadow, Dean Ancelot watched — silent, proud, and for the first time since arriving, at peace.