"They say gold shines brightest—but here, it hides the sharpest blades."
———
By the time the car reached the academy, night had already settled over Maelstrom City. It was past seven on a Saturday evening, the sky bruised with fading streaks of crimson slowly swallowed by shadows. Streetlamps flickered to life, their pale glow stretching across the courtyards like watchful eyes.
The silence was heavy and deliberate, as though the academy itself was holding its breath. Before the dormitories or the director came into view, another gate rose before us—larger, heavier, and more imposing than the city's entrance. Its iron bars loomed in the darkness, framed by stone arches that seemed to press down on the road itself.
Passing through it felt less like entering a school and more like crossing into a prison of discipline and secrets. The atmosphere was suffocating, the air colder, as if the gate itself whispered a warning: once inside, there is no turning back.
The School of Blades and Lies revealed itself only in fragments under the dim light. Towers glinted faintly, shadows stretched across courtyards, and the hum of unseen machines pressed against my skin. I could not yet see its full shape, but I could feel it—alive, vast, and watching.
The academy was like a city within itself. Even at night, I could sense its scale: a mall hidden within its grounds, facilities sprawling far beyond what any university should hold. It was not just a school—it was a world, self-contained and meticulously controlled, designed to provide everything one could ever need while ensuring you never truly left its grasp.
The car stopped. The driver said nothing. Instead, the door opened, and a man stood waiting—straightforward, unflinching, his presence cutting through the night like a blade.
He was tall, his sharply tailored uniform cutting through the night. His presence carried weight, the kind that silenced even the air around him. His eyes locked onto mine—piercing, deliberate, as though stripping away every layer of pretense I might have carried.
For a moment, I felt exposed, catalogued, judged.
"I am Director Valerius Danton," he said immediately, his tone clipped and professional. "I run this academy with absolute authority. I am not its owner. The Sovereign above me commands its legacy. I command its discipline. Do not confuse the two. You are beneath both."
I swallowed, gathering courage. "Director, I only wished to—"
His eyes narrowed, his voice slicing through mine before I could finish. "No. You wished nothing. You are here to listen, not to speak. Your profile is low, your standing unproven. In this place, your voice carries no weight until you earn it." The words struck like iron shackles, pressing into me with cold finality.
He straightened, his tone precise, professional, yet dismissive: "Welcome, scholar. Not as a guest, but as one who must prove their worth. Every step you take will be observed. Every word you speak will be measured. Privilege is not freedom. Discipline is the only currency that matters here."
Then, without hesitation, he turned sharply. "Follow me. The Gold Dormitory awaits." I'm puzzled by 'what he said about gold?' "Do not imagine its name grants you privilege. Gold tarnishes quickly when tested." His stride was purposeful, unhurried, yet commanding.
I followed, each step echoing in the silence, the weight of his authority pressing down like a shadow. I realized then that I was not being welcomed—I was being led, measured, and placed exactly where the academy wanted me.
He paused, eyes sweeping over me, then returned his gaze to the polished floor as if measuring my reaction. "Respect the hierarchy. Rules are absolute. Do not test them. That is all." He pushed the doors open.
Darkness swallowed the space inside. No lamps flickered, no warm welcome—only silence and shadow. I stepped forward cautiously, every nerve alive, every sense sharpened to a razor's edge. The air pressed down on me, thick and suffocating, demanding vigilance.
My heartbeat was a drum in my chest, steady but loud enough that I feared it might betray me. Then it struck, the glint. A sudden flash, sharp as lightning, slicing through the dark. The blade spun toward me, a streak of polished menace, its edge catching the dim light in a deadly shimmer. Obsidian Fang. Its name alone carried weight, but in motion it was something more: a predator unleashed, sleek and merciless.
Time fractured. The world slowed into fragments of detail, the arc of steel cutting through space, the whisper of air displaced, the faint hum of danger vibrating in my ears. My mind raced, calculating trajectory, speed, angle, each variable etched in clarity. My body answered with instinct. Muscles coiled, balance shifted, arm rising in perfect synchrony. Fingers closed around the hilt with a snap of inevitability. The impact reverberated through my palm, solid, grounding. Effortless. Controlled. Yet beneath the precision, adrenaline surged like fire, threatening to spill into chaos.
I looked down at the weapon now locked in my grip. Recognition struck instantly. "Benchmade 570CAMO-2601," I muttered under my breath. From across the chamber, the girl's voice cut in, calm and deliberate. "Benchmade 570CAMO-2601," she echoed, as if naming it was second nature.
The coincidence hung between us, sharp as the blade itself. Her eyes glinted in the dark and sharp, unreadable, dangerous. The silence shattered... not with violence, but with a voice. Low, deliberate, resonant. "Good reflexes," she said.
I didn't know her. She might be my dormmate. Her tone detached, almost clinical, but her eyes gleamed with something deeper, an unspoken challenge, a promise of trials yet to come. I just kept looking at her eyes, frozen, unsure of what to say or do. My grip on the knife tightened as if bracing myself. I closed my eyes slightly and took a deep breathe.
"You'll need them." Her voice lingered in the air, heavy as the blade in my hand. The chamber seemed to shrink around us, shadows pressing closer, as if the world itself leaned in to witness what would unfold next.
Before I could respond, another voice burst forward, bright and teasing, cutting through the tension like sunlight breaking storm clouds. "Oh, don't mind her!"
I turned, startled. Another stranger. She stepped closer, her movements lively, her tone jolly, as if she had wandered into the scene from an entirely different world. She didn't pause, didn't explain herself. She simply filled the air with chatter, her energy bouncing against the walls.
My eyes swept over her… and then they froze on her hands.
A blade. Poised. Deadly. She caught my gaze and tilted her head, a soft, almost teasing laugh escaping her lips.
"Oh, don't be scared," she said, twirling the blade with effortless grace. "We're just playing. Anyone who steps into this room… becomes part of the game. Ready or not, skilled or not, it doesn't matter. The rules are simple: no one dies. But as long as you're breathing, even if blood sprays everywhere, you're alive. And that's what counts." Her eyes sparkled as she leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially. "The loser? Five months. Five whole months of household chores. That's the price of failure. But survive, and you get out… alive, maybe a little bruised, but alive."
I swallowed hard, the weight of the game pressing against my chest. The blade glinted under the dim light, but there was no malice in her movements, only a strange, thrilling energy.
"Is that how you want to spend your time?" I asked almost whispering.
"Definitely! Exciting, right?" I looked at the girl who had thrown the blade at me earlier. She was leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed over her chest, as if nothing unusual had happened.
I didn't know what to say. My mind was spinning, unable to process any of it. It was only half the day, and already so much had happened. Information, rules, threats, laughter—it all crashed over me at once, leaving me dizzy and uncertain.
"I'm Seraphine," another girl introduced herself, stepping back with a bow of mock formality, her eyes dancing with curiosity. "That's her way of saying 'hello.' Dramatic, isn't it? She likes to test people. Me? I prefer stories, gossip, and chatter."
The words lingered in the air like a challenge. And suddenly, I understood, stepping into this room meant I was already playing. Whether I liked it or not, the game had begun.
The words hung between us, playful yet weighted. My pulse slowly returned to normal, but the thrill of danger still tingled under my skin. For a moment, it felt like the night itself was holding its breath around the Gold Dormitory.
Seraphine clapped her hands together, breaking the stillness. "Well, enough excitement for now. It's past eight, and if we don't eat soon, the lights go out. Ten o'clock sharp. Academy rule."
Evangeline's gaze softened slightly, just enough to let me breathe. "Hall's fine, but we prefer dinner here. More privacy. Less… observation."
I hesitated, glancing at the neatly arranged plates on the low dining table. My instincts flared—this was the academy, after all. Was it safe? Could I trust it?
Seraphine's laughter rang out again, teasing. "Relax. Nothing's poisoned. Not tonight, at least." She leaned closer, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Try a bite. Or are you too nervous?"
I swallowed hard, noticing the food's neat presentation. "It… looks… fine," I said slowly, still cautious.
Seraphine leaned back, tilting her head with a teasing smile. "By the way… I just realized we never asked your name. What's your name?"
I hesitated for a heartbeat, then straightened. "Kyrren." My voice was steady, though my mind still buzzed from the earlier blade.
"Kyrren," Seraphine repeated, rolling the name on her tongue like a sweet note. "Nice. Strong. Fits you." She clapped her hands once. "And this," she said, gesturing toward the girl who had tested me moments ago, "is Evangeline. The one who decided to throw a knife at you to see what you're made of."
Evangeline's lips curved slightly, a shadow of amusement in her eyes, though her expression remained mostly unreadable. "It was a simple test," she said calmly. "Reflexes matter more than words here."
"I… see," I muttered, still gripping the knife for a fraction longer before letting it rest on the table.
Seraphine laughed lightly, tossing a small piece of bread in her hand. "Don't worry, Kyrren. You survived. That's what counts. And now… dinner! The lights go out at ten, so we better eat before the academy decides we've had too much fun."
I nodded slowly, still cautious, but something about their energy. The contrast between Seraphine's playful warmth and Evangeline's sharp precision, made the room feel alive rather than threatening.
I followed them to the table, the faint scent of roasted vegetables and warm bread filling the room. My gaze flicked between them—Seraphine's lively energy made the room feel almost welcoming, while Evangeline's quiet, precise presence reminded me that danger and scrutiny were never far away.
"So," Seraphine said, sliding into her chair across from me, "Kyrren… you don't look like the usual type they bring here. Where did you even come from?"
"Just… a different city," I answered cautiously, keeping my tone neutral. My eyes darted briefly to Evangeline, who sat with perfect posture, observing, unreadable. Evangeline looked at me doubted of what I have said.
Seraphine leaned in conspiratorially, a grin dancing across her face. "By the way, this food is fine. No poison. I checked. Wouldn't want our new scholar to expire before even surviving a night." She giggled at my stiff posture and the way my hand hovered near the knife.
I forced a small laugh, letting some of the tension slide away. "Good to know."
Evangeline's gaze softened, just a fraction, as if acknowledging my effort to adapt. "Rules are rules," she said quietly. "But there's nothing wrong with a moment of normalcy. Eat, Kyrren. You'll need your strength for what comes next."
I picked up a fork, my senses still alert, but the warmth of Seraphine's chatter and the subtle reassurance from Evangeline allowed the first genuine exhale since arriving. The Gold Dormitory, with all its elegance and hidden eyes, suddenly felt less like a trap and more like a crucible I could navigate—if I paid attention, stayed sharp, and survived.
Evangeline's gaze settled on me. Sharp, unwavering. "Tell me something," she said casually, leaning slightly forward, voice soft but probing, "why choose this academy? There are easier schools. Places with less… attention. Even better lives beyond these walls. So why, Kyrren? Why here?"
The question was simple, almost conversational, but I knew the weight beneath it. Her eyes flicked, calculating. She wanted more than words. She wanted to see my reaction, the truth I might inadvertently reveal.
I took a deliberate bite, letting the warmth of the food anchor me. My tone was measured, neutral. "I wanted to be tested. To see what I can handle. Comfort doesn't teach you anything, does it?"
Evangeline's lips quirked, just the barest hint of a smile. "Ah. Good. Most forget that the question is about more than skill. It's about mindset." Her eyes lingered, scanning for cracks, but I met her gaze evenly, letting nothing slip.
Seraphine clapped lightly, breaking the tension with a sound that bounced off the walls. "See? You survived her little test. Bravo! Now, eat. Enjoy. The academy might record every move, but for now… at least we're eating in peace."
I allowed myself a small smile and took another bite. Steam curled into the air, carrying with it faint hints of herbs and roasted meat, but even in the warmth, the subtle undercurrent of the academy's presence hummed beneath everything. Every creak of the floorboard, every shadow stretching along the wall, reminded me that the Gold Dormitory was more than a dorm—it was a crucible.
Seraphine leaned back again, letting her eyes drift toward the window. "You'll see, Kyrren. Gold isn't just about luxury. It's about endurance. Observation. Survival. And even the brightest light casts a shadow somewhere."
Evangeline's gaze never wavered. "Remember this. Here, every action has meaning. Every word, every glance. And every thought… you are already being observed, whether you feel it or not."
I chewed slowly, tasting not just the food but the rhythm of the room—the interplay of warmth and watchfulness, chatter and silence, light and shadow. In the Gold Dormitory, even dinner was a lesson, every small sensation a reminder that nothing here was ever truly safe or ordinary.
And I understood: surviving the academy wasn't just about skill or reflexes. It was about awareness, restraint, and knowing exactly when—and what—to reveal.
I took a sip of water, letting the warmth settle my thoughts before asking cautiously, "Why… why is the surveillance such a big deal? Cameras everywhere… even in the halls?"
Seraphine tilted her head, eyes wide in mock shock, and leaned back in her chair. "You're asking about the cameras now? Seriously? You survived the knife throw and still wonder about that?" She laughed, a bright, teasing sound. "Alright… curious, I'll give you that. They watch because… well, the academy likes to know everything. Every move, every mistake, every tiny hesitation. Nothing goes unseen. Nothing."
Evangeline's calm voice cut through the laughter, precise and measured. "Surveillance ensures order. Discipline isn't just rules on paper—it's action monitored continuously. You learn quickly which paths are safe, which decisions are fatal. The cameras are… not just deterrents. They are instruments of awareness, and sometimes, judgment."
I frowned, feeling the weight of the words, my mind tracing the countless angles of observation in the dormitory. "So… even the bathrooms?" I asked carefully, trying not to sound too blunt.
Seraphine let out a small, melodramatic gasp, covering her mouth with her hand. "Oh Kyrren… curious and bold. Bathrooms, showers, private suites… nobody can say for certain." She leaned closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "But let's just say… the academy's eyes reach farther than you think. Privacy here is… relative."
Evangeline's eyes met mine, sharp, unblinking. "Focus on what you can control. Your movements, your skills, your reactions. Where cameras may or may not be is irrelevant if you are prepared for everything. Assume all actions are observed, even the ones you consider private. That is the safest rule."
I nodded slowly, swallowing the lump of unease in my throat. "And… the other students? Are they part of the observation too?"
Seraphine clapped her hands, grinning like she'd been waiting for the question. "Ah! Now we get to the juicy part. Everyone watches. Not just the teachers, not just the cameras. Students, too. Allies, rivals, spies… connections aren't always what they seem. Some here have lived in Gold for years; they know what's up before the blade even leaves your hand."
Evangeline added, her tone neutral but carrying an edge of warning, "Information is currency. Observation is power. Every glance, every interaction is data. Understand it, and you survive. Ignore it, and… mistakes have consequences beyond imagination."
I rested my hands on the table, keeping my voice calm, but my mind alert. "And… why study here? Why not somewhere else? Isn't there a better life outside these walls?"
Seraphine's eyes sparkled with mischief, but Evangeline's gaze sharpened, subtly probing. "Curious about the world outside, aren't you?" Evangeline's words were soft, almost casual, but I felt the hidden edge. "It's tempting to think there's a better life… but the academy isn't a trap. It's preparation. Those who survive here… they don't just endure. They excel in ways the outside world could never teach."
I met her gaze steadily, aware of the underlying test in her question. "I understand. I know what this place asks of me… and I know what I'm signing up for."
Seraphine clapped again, delighted. "Finally! Someone with a little backbone! Look at you, Kyrren—eyes open, senses sharp, not falling for the bait."
Evangeline's lips quirked ever so slightly. "Do not underestimate the bait, Kyrren. Curiosity is both tool and trap. Keep your wits about you."
I nodded, feeling the subtle tension coil tighter around us, the Gold Dormitory quiet except for the soft clink of plates and the distant hum of the city outside. Even in this simple dinner, the rules, the hierarchy, the surveillance… the game had already begun. And I had already passed the first test: staying aware.
I leaned back slightly, careful not to show too much eagerness. "You mentioned rules… but what are the rules here? How does the academy… work? And the training—how does that even function?"
Seraphine blinked at me in exaggerated disbelief, one hand on her chest. "Wait… you're enrolled here and you don't know the basic rules?" Her voice was playful, teasing, but the shock was real. "Kyrren, are you trying to get yourself into trouble on day one?"
Evangeline's gaze flicked toward me, her expression unreadable, but I caught the subtle glint in her eyes—a quiet test. "Rules are not suggestions. They are mandates. Broken rules are punished. Simple as that. Discipline and survival are intertwined here."
I nodded, steadying my voice. "And the training? The combat hierarchy… the survival expectations?"
Seraphine leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, eyes twinkling. "Ahh, now we're talking! Blade training is the heart of Gold, of this academy. Every student has a schedule, combat drills, endurance exercises, strategic simulations. Your ranking isn't just a number. It's a reflection of skill, precision, and, most importantly… your ability to adapt under pressure."
Evangeline's voice cut in, calm, measured. "Hierarchy is not only skill-based. It is observed, tested, and manipulated. The strongest do not always lead—they endure, they influence, they anticipate. Survival here depends on perception as much as ability. One misstep, one lapse in judgment, and even the most skilled may falter."
I absorbed every word, noticing how Seraphine's explanation danced around excitement and encouragement, while Evangeline's words carried a sharp, clinical warning—almost like she was charting my reactions. I realized I could learn from both, but I had to choose carefully when to trust.
"So… blade training," I said, trying to sound casual. "Do students fight each other? Or is it all exercises?"
Seraphine grinned, picking up a slice of bread. "Depends on what you call 'fight.' Sparring is common, testing reflexes and strategy. But the academy encourages… competition. Think of it as lessons disguised as danger. You'll face friends, rivals, maybe enemies. It's all recorded, ranked, and dissected afterward. That's how they know who can handle more than a blade in the dark."
Evangeline's tone didn't change, but the edge in her words was unmistakable. "And sometimes, not everything is fair. Observation extends beyond combat. Strategy, alliances, deception—all are part of survival. Learn to read people, predict movements, anticipate threats. Survival is a game of awareness as much as skill."
I felt the tension thicken around me, the Gold Dormitory quiet except for the faint clinking of cutlery and distant hums. Every detail mattered—the way Seraphine leaned forward, encouraging me to ask, the way Evangeline watched for subtle tells, testing patience and perception.
I chose my next words carefully. "So… would someone survive here simply by being strong with a blade? Or is it more complicated than that?"
Seraphine's laugh was light, almost musical. "Oh, Kyrren… strong arms only get you so far. Here, strength without wit is… entertaining, for a while. But ultimately? Awareness, timing, and adaptability matter most. You'll learn that soon enough."
Evangeline's eyes narrowed, and she leaned in just slightly, letting her calm voice cut through the room like a scalpel. "Survival is calculated. Every motion, every decision, every glance is a variable. Treat it as a battlefield, even when the blades are not in your hands. Understand your environment. Understand the people. Understand yourself. That is the rule you cannot ignore."
I nodded, feeling the weight of her words sink deep. The academy was more than hierarchy, more than combat. It was a living, breathing system of observation and strategy, and I had just stepped into its center.
Seraphine tossed me a playful grin. "Don't worry too much. You'll make mistakes, everyone does. But that's the point. Survive the mistake, and you learn. Fail completely… well, you'll find out what happens to those who vanish."
I swallowed hard, the unspoken threat hanging in the air. Even in a simple conversation about rules and training, the tension was alive. Every glance, every word, every nuance mattered. And I realized with a strange thrill that this… was exactly where I wanted to be.
I let their words settle for a moment before asking the question that had been circling my mind since I arrived.
"So… how does the hierarchy work here?" I asked quietly. "You mentioned ranking earlier. Is there an actual system for that?"
Seraphine perked up immediately, clearly delighted by the question. She leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm.
"Oh, there definitely is," she said with a grin. "The academy loves its rankings. Think of it like a ladder, everyone starts somewhere, and everyone wants to climb. Combat results, strategy tests, endurance trials… they all affect your standing."
She pointed her fork toward me like a lecturer.
"Every scholar is evaluated constantly. Your training scores, your combat matches, your discipline record. Even how you behave in situations like this—conversations, reactions, choices. It all gets recorded."
I blinked slowly. "Even conversations?"
Seraphine gave a playful shrug. "Maybe. Maybe not. That's the fun part."
Evangeline finally spoke, her voice calm but sharp.
"Assume everything matters," she said. "That is the safest strategy."
Her eyes lingered on me, studying my reaction.
"The hierarchy determines influence. Higher-ranked scholars receive more opportunities—advanced training, access to restricted facilities, strategic privileges. Lower ranks… are simply expected to improve."
"And if they don't?" I asked.
Seraphine's playful expression dimmed slightly.
"They fall behind," she said simply.
Evangeline finished the thought.
"Or they disappear."
The word sat heavily between us.
I looked down at my plate, thinking.
"So the academy is basically… watching everyone fight their way up?"
Seraphine snapped her fingers.
"Exactly! See? You're getting it already."
She leaned back in her chair.
"The higher your rank, the more freedom you get. The lower your rank, the more pressure they put on you. Some people thrive on that. Others…" she trailed off with a small shrug.
Evangeline's gaze sharpened.
"Pressure reveals truth."
I frowned slightly.
"What kind of tests are we talking about?"
Seraphine smiled like someone about to tell a secret.
"Oh, the fun kind."
She ticked them off on her fingers.
"Combat trials. Tactical simulations. Endurance gauntlets. Strategy games where alliances form and collapse overnight."
Then her smile widened.
"And sometimes… surprise evaluations."
"Ambushes?" I asked.
Evangeline answered calmly.
"Situations."
Her tone carried a quiet certainty.
"The academy believes a person's true nature appears when they are unprepared."
Seraphine nodded enthusiastically.
"Exactly! That's why Evangeline threw the knife at you earlier."
She pointed at me dramatically.
"That was basically a miniature version of what the academy does all the time."
I exhaled slowly.
"So, everything here is a test."
Evangeline tilted her head slightly.
"Yes."
Then she added quietly,
"And the most important tests are the ones you don't realize you're taking."
The room grew quieter for a moment.
Outside the tall windows, the distant lights of Maelstrom City flickered like stars trapped behind glass.
Seraphine glanced toward the wall clock and suddenly sat up.
"Oh!"
"What?" I asked.
She pointed toward it.
"9:42."
I followed her gaze.
She grinned mischievously.
"You've been here less than three hours, Kyrren… and you've already survived a knife test, an interrogation, and your first academy briefing."
Evangeline leaned back in her chair, watching me carefully.
"Not bad for a first night."
Seraphine lifted her glass in a mock toast.
"Welcome to the School of Blades and Lies."
I looked between them, the playful chaos of Seraphine and the controlled danger of Evangeline and felt something settle in my chest.
Excitement.
And the quiet understanding that this place would test far more than my skill with a blade.
Seraphine was still laughing softly when the lights flickered once.
Then twice.
The room fell silent.
A low mechanical hum rippled through the dormitory walls, different from the usual background noise of the building. Even Seraphine stopped mid-sentence, her smile fading as she looked toward the ceiling.
"What was that?" I asked.
Before either of them could answer, a soft chime echoed throughout the dormitory.
Then a voice followed.
Calm. Mechanical. Emotionless.
"Attention, scholars of the Gold Dormitory."
The sound filled every corner of the room, as if the walls themselves had begun speaking.
Seraphine slowly straightened in her chair.
"That's… unusual," she murmured.
Evangeline did not speak. Her eyes had already shifted toward the hallway, alert.
The voice continued.
"Curfew will begin in fifteen minutes. All scholars are advised to return to their assigned rooms."
A pause followed.
For a moment, I thought that was all.
Then the voice spoke again.
"Additional notice: a security irregularity has been detected within academy grounds."
Seraphine frowned.
"That never happens," she whispered.
The mechanical voice continued without emotion.
"Surveillance protocols are now in heightened observation mode. All movement will be recorded."
My chest tightened slightly.
Recorded.
As if it wasn't already.
Then the final sentence came.
"Scholars are reminded of Rule One."
The room grew colder somehow.
Evangeline's eyes narrowed slightly.
The voice finished.
"You are permitted to eliminate threats."
A beat of silence.
Then—
"But do not be caught."
The announcement ended with a soft chime.
The dormitory lights dimmed slightly as the building shifted into night mode.
For several seconds, none of us spoke.
Seraphine was the first to break the silence.
"Well," she said slowly, forcing a small smile, "that's… new."
I looked at Evangeline.
She didn't look surprised.
She looked interested.
"Security irregularity," I repeated quietly. "What does that mean?"
Evangeline's gaze drifted toward the dark window overlooking the academy grounds.
"It means," she said calmly, "someone either broke the rules…"
Her eyes flicked back to mine.
"Or someone just became a target."
The clock on the wall clicked forward.
9:59 PM.
The dormitory lights dimmed further, signaling the beginning of curfew.
Outside, the academy grounds looked quiet, peaceful, perfectly controlled.
But now I understood something.
Somewhere inside these walls, something had already gone wrong.
And according to the academy's rules—
someone was allowed to deal with it.
The thought lingered in the silence of the room.
Who broke the rules?
Who was the target?
And more importantly…
who was allowed to eliminate them?
Was it a teacher?
A guard?
Or one of us?
My eyes drifted toward the dark hallway of the dormitory, the shadows stretching deeper as the lights dimmed.
And a colder thought settled into my mind.
What if the threat wasn't outside the dormitory at all?
What if it was already inside the academy?
Inside the Gold Dormitory?
Or worse—
what if the academy expected us to find it first?
The clock clicked again.
10:00 PM.
Curfew had begun.
And somewhere within the walls of the School of Blades and Lies…
the hunt had already started.