{Elira}
~**^**~
I looked around.
No one seed to be paying attention. So students were unlocking their lockers. Others were checking their titables. A couple were scrolling through their phones.
But none of them were looking at .
My heart beat faster as I stepped closer and pulled the envelope from the tal surface. It wasn’t taped—just wedged into the narrow fra.
I flipped it over. There was no na. No initials. No address.
I stared at it for a mont longer.
Who left this? And why?
I didn’t have the ti—or the ntal space—to peek inside the red envelope.
My thoughts were already beginning to scatter as the hallway buzzed with movent and conversation. So, I tucked it carefully inside along with my backpack and placed everything inside my locker.
Whatever it was could wait.
I grabbed my textbook, notebook, pen, and phone, then locked the door and turned toward class.
By the ti I stepped into my classroom, the murmur of conversation dipped into soft whispers—low, sharp, and unmistakably directed at .
I felt them, those darting glances, those hushed syllables with nas hidden behind cupped hands. But I didn’t et anyone’s eyes.
I moved quietly to my desk and sat down, setting my notebook neatly in front of .
As long as they only whispered and did not attempt to surround like on my first day. I would handle it.
Then, as if summoned by my silent plea, a voice cut clean through the noise.
"Good morning, class."
It was confident, familiar—and I froze.
Imdiately, my head snapped up and there was Lennon, standing tall in front of the whiteboard, dressed in his signature clean-casual style—blue jeans that fit him far too well and a sleek black leather jacket.
His dark hair looked freshly combed, a subtle shine catching the light from the windows. Every strand in place, every inch of him effortless, powerful, and—well—utterly calm.
Around , my classmates erupted in excited greetings.
"Oh stars, it’s Professor Lennon today?"
"Why is he so fine?"
"I heard he was on the combat board! This is gonna be fun!"
A ripple of energy ran through the room like soone had flipped a switch. The entire class suddenly beca brighter, louder, and no longer focused on .
I blinked, a little stunned. He hadn’t said a word about teaching this class when we chatted last night.
Was this intentional? Or a surprise even for him?
Just then, Lennon picked up a stick of white chalk and wrote the title on the board with smooth, deliberate strokes:
Combat Tactics & Pack Defense – Level I.
Turning back to us, he leaned against the front desk casually. "Your instructor for today clocked in sick this morning," he said, voice smooth and loud enough to command attention, "so I will be filling in for him."
The response was near-deafening. A few girls clapped. One boy whistled. Soone muttered sothing about this being their ’luckiest Thursday ever.’
I let out a small breath and relaxed against my seat. So... that explained it. A last-minute substitution. That’s why he hadn’t told . It wasn’t planned.
Still, I wasn’t sure how to feel seeing my classmates practically drooling over him.
I watched one girl adjust her collar and lean forward with her chin in her hand, batting her lashes like she was auditioning for a romance drama.
I rolled my eyes internally and returned my focus to Lennon.
He began the lecture without delay, jumping straight into key tactics for low-wolf-count skirmishes and explaining the difference between passive defense structures and aggressive deterrent formations.
His style of teaching was engaging—fast-paced but clear, seasoned with dry humor and precise analogies.
He even used the whiteboard like a strategist, drawing sharp angular diagrams of battlefield layouts, assigning fake territory borders and defending positions with dots and arrows.
"The instinct to charge is natural," he said, tapping the board with the chalk, "but what keeps a Pack alive is knowing when not to. Strategy beats strength when strength lacks patience."
I caught myself actually enjoying the lesson. Despite the fatigue still clinging to my bones, I found myself scribbling down notes faster than I expected.
By the ti the class ended, the whiteboard was covered in chalk lines and half of my classmates looked ready to follow Lennon into an actual warzone.
He clapped his hands once. "That’s all for today. Don’t forget your practical next Monday—8 a.m. sharp."
A few groans and excited murmurs followed.
He grinned. "And bring your strength. Brute force. You will need it."
Then his gaze swept across the room, subtle and slow—until it landed on . His eyes held mine for just a breath longer than necessary.
"And of course," he added smoothly, "only a select few will be lucky enough to serve as examples."
I swallowed. That was for . I knew it instantly.
It was his way of saying I wouldn’t be called up in front of the class. That he’d already made sure I wouldn’t be embarrassed again.
The relief I felt was imdiate, softening my shoulders and cooling the tension in my chest. Lennon saw . And he understood—even when I didn’t say a word.
Lennon stepped back from the desk, dismissing us with a nod, and as everyone began to pack up noisily around , I quietly gathered my things, my heart a little steadier than when I first walked in.
---
As soon as classes ended, I barely had ti to put my phone on vibrate mode before a ssage popped in.
I had a guess that it could be from Rennon, so I quickly opened it. And lo and behold, it was from him.
Rennon: [Hi, Elira! I brought lunch for you. If you don’t mind, we can eat together.]
A small smile tugged at my lips. I hadn’t forgotten about the appointnt he ntioned yesterday. I typed back quickly:
: [Okay.]
His next ssage ca just as fast.
Rennon: [Co to the Archive Room. Do you know where that is?]
I glanced down at the smartwatch on my wrist and grinned.
: [Yes, I do. Rember,I have this fancy thing on my wrist. I will find it.]
I could almost imagine him shaking his head with a faint smile. Tucking my phone away, I turned toward my locker.
My fingers flew over the keypad, and as the door swung open, a bold splash of red caught my eye.
The envelope.
It sat exactly where I had left it earlier, still sealed, still mysterious. My curiosity sparked again—but I didn’t have the ti to dwell on it. Not now. Not with Rennon waiting.
I pulled out the textbooks and notes I would need for my afternoon lecture and slid the envelope to the side, nestling it under the flap of my file.
Later. I promised myself. I’d read it later.
Then I opened the group chat with my roommates and typed a quick ssage:
: [Hey, you guys, go ahead to lunch without today. I have sothing important to handle.]
I hesitated, wondering if they would ask questions—but didn’t give myself a chance to overthink it. I hit send and shut my locker with a soft click.
With a few taps on my smartwatch, I set my destination as Archive Room.
The device responded instantly, displaying a detailed map with a glowing arrow and a gentle buzz on my wrist.
It showed the Archive Room was in another building—older, tucked away behind the East Wing.
The watch scanned my location, then directed with blinking arrows and a soft chi every ti I reached a new turn.
I started walking, footsteps light but purposeful. It wasn’t just about lunch anymore. I was genuinely curious—Rennon had sounded... oddly serious yesterday. Like whatever he had to show mattered.
A ssage alert vibrated through my phone again. I pulled it out and saw several notifications from the dorm group chat with my roommates.
First was Cambria’s usual polite check-in:
Cambria: [Noted. See you later. Let us know if you need anything, Elira.]
Then Juniper:
Juniper: [Important? Sounds mysterious. We will save you a seat anyway, just in case you change your mind.]
Followed by Nari:
Nari: [Hope it’s not a secret date. Unless it is...]
I sighed, fighting back a smile.
Even Tamryn dropped sothing rare into the chat:
Tamryn: [Enjoy your important thing.]
That one surprised more than all the others combined.
I typed out a quick:
: [Thanks, I will. See you girls later.]
And slipped the phone back into my skirt pocket, letting out a sigh of relief.
The air felt cooler around this side of campus—quieter too. A few tall trees lined the walkway, their leaves rustling as the breeze teased them gently.
I followed the map as it led around a narrow path behind the main tower, then finally, to an older stone building with wide windows and ivy climbing up one side.
’Archive Room’ the small silver plaque beside the door read.
I paused for a breath and then I stepped inside.
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