Chapter 224: Discovery
"I’m sorry," he said. "And thank you."
After all, if Cecilia hadn’t been there—no, if anyone else had been there, if it hadn’t been her, he wouldn’t have escaped this incident cleanly.
Never.
If she hadn’t co, hadn’t gotten trapped with him, he would still be in that office. The drug would still be consuming him. He might have died from brain damage.
Not to ntion, the reason he hadn’t already destroyed the wall was simple. In his condition, staying put had felt like the only option. Movent ant losing control. Action ant exposure.
But because she was there, the drug was cured. Completely. Cleanly. Without scandal, without further incident, without anyone ever needing to know what had happened behind that sealed door.
And on top of all that was Lazuardi’s lack of suspicion. The headmaster hadn’t questioned why Arkai, a Force Mage of considerable power, couldn’t escape on his own.
It was certainly because Cecilia was there, soone more likely to solve the problem.
It was nice, Arkai realized, to not take credit sotis.
Especially when he still had soiled pants to hide.
"What’s wrong?" Cecilia’s voice cut through his thoughts. "Are you disappointed we can’t take the pigeon with us?"
Arkai’s eyebrows creased. He deadpanned at her, a glare that held no real heat.
"Just accept the apology and gratitude."
She smiled up at him.
That beautiful, beautiful smile—
His frown faltered.
Cecilia studied him as they stood there, the mont stretching. She was actually curious now about what kind of dynamic they would have if Oathran and Eastiel weren’t in the picture.
She and Eastiel would probably just bicker endlessly. Intellectual contradiction, constant friction, never quite finding the sa page.
She and Oathran would just... flirt. And joke and do naughty things, then fight like the world was ending.
But Arkai—
Co to think of it, there had never been a period in their relationship where it was just the two of them. Arkai and Cecilia. Not really.
Eastiel had been her friend and critic during her saintess years. Oathran had been her first love, the one who claid her heart before anyone else.
Arkai ca after Oathran. Their romance was inevitably intertwined with the other two from the very beginning.
Before that, before everything, their relationship had been strictly professional.
Letters. Gifts. Prophecies.
Professional.
Cecilia suddenly blushed.
This man was still her uncle-in-law in the real world.
She was fucking her uncle-in-law—
It was true, though. Their relationship had been built on professional foundations. Respect. Letters. Carefully worded prophecies and asured responses.
But after they t, all the propriety and the politics had been thrown out of the window. Lust. Instinct. Want...
Her first other man after her first love. Claiming Arkai Dawnoro had been a graduation of its own.
Cecilia raised her chin, eting his gaze with recovered composure.
"I accept your apology and gratitude." She said steadily, smoothly. "Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone about what happened. Nor will I intervene in your little... ga." She let the word hang, weighted with aning. "Whoever did all of that to you."
She cleared her throat, her eyes flicking deliberately toward the headmaster’s office door. A signal. I know you don’t want his involvent either. I understand.
Arkai felt... strange.
Why upon finally eting an admirable, beautiful woman who was completely his type, did he have to be in the stupidest, most disgraceful situation imaginable?
Not to ntion, he had thought he knew her. Distantly, from reputation and rumor, he had assembled a picture of who Cecilia Araceli was. The top nerd. The bookworm. The quiet, studious girl who spent her free ti in libraries and her breaks on magical initiations.
Apparently, she was sothing else completely.
Nerd?
Nerd my ass—
She was hot. As fuck.
Competent. Confident. A fucking psychic, apparently. With long legs and—
Legs.
Why legs, brain?!
Be normal and just think about boobs or sothing!
Could it be—because she crossed her legs when holding his hands?
FU—
But this girl, according to what she had been discussing with Lazuardi and the casual way she ntioned Oathran, already had a boyfriend.
At least one.
Already had a boyfriend.
Well. They could still break up—
Wow. He was a piece of shit now. A total scumbag.
Arkai managed to release his blush, his emotional breakdown, his entire internal catastrophe, only when she had already turned around and walked away.
Her figure disappeared around a corner, leaving him alone in the corridor with his thoughts and his sha and his inexplicable, inappropriate, undeniable attraction.
But to actually want her...
Was he even qualified?
After the aphrodisiac incident, after losing control so completely, so pathetically, what right did he have to want especially her? To think about her in that way?
And...
His eyes darkened.
That pigeon.
He had seen it before.
The mory surfaced. A flash of grey feathers in a different context, a different place. A creature that should not have been here, carrying magic it had no business carrying.
His hand clenched into a fist at his side.
He turned to the other end of the corridor, walking away with heavy steps. The opposite direction from where Cecilia had disappeared. Away from the warmth of her smile, the echo of her laugh, the image of her legs—stop it—crossed so casually as she held his hand and saved his life.
Things had been going out of hand.
***
The International Magic Student Conference descended upon the Scholomance Athenaeum. It was like a festival pulled from the pages of a dream.
The grounds that had been quiet and snow-dusted just days ago now thrumd with impossible life. Tents of shimring silk rose from the courtyards like multicolored mushrooms after rain, their fabrics enchanted to shift hues with the passing clouds.
Flags from a dozen kingdoms snapped in the winter wind, each one bearing crests that glowed with inner light, their magical signatures humming against the senses like distant music.
Students from across the continent filled every path and corridor. They ca in robes of every cut and color, deep indigos from the northern isles, sun-bleached whites from the southern deserts, intricate geotric patterns from the eastern steppes.
The main hall had been transford. Where banners for the conference had hung half-finished days ago, now complete tapestries covered every wall, woven with active spells that depicted famous monts in magical history.
The founding of the first academy. The discovery of teleportation gates. The images moved, figures walking and talking across the fabric as if viewed through windows into the past.
Above it all, the ceiling had been spelled to display the night sky with the constellation patterns that aligned with magical ley lines.
Arkai looked around.
But Cecilia Araceli wasn’t there.
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