"No," Lenox cut in quickly, voice firr than he expected. "No. I’m thankful for the stipend. I... I don’t want to cause more trouble."
"Alright, then there’s no need to worry about it," Matthew said. "I’ll call Cristoff. He’ll handle the arrangents. If you need anything—transport, docunts, packing—just let him know."
Before he could finish, Lenox stepped in with forced urgency. "There’s really nothing going on between Catherine and ."
Matthew paused. His expression didn’t shift, but the silence was telling.
"I an, I know how it must have looked. But I would never—she and I... It’s not like that," Lenox said.
His tone was just humble enough to sound considerate, but not so much as to suggest guilt. He looked at Matthew as if expecting so softening, so sign that the old, pliable friend was still in there.
He couldn’t just cast him out like this. Not after everything. He was the one who saved Matthew when he was younger! He deserved everything that the Lindberg family has given him so far!
Sadly, Matthew only raised an eyebrow, looking unimpressed.
Still, Lenox tried again. "I know you were probably hurt over what happened with the card. Maybe it was insensitive of to suggest it. I admit that. But co on, Matthew... we’ve known each other forever. I was just trying to help. Maybe I misread things. But I swear, I didn’t an anything by it."
Matthew tilted his head slightly. "Lenox," he said, "I don’t think this has anything to do with ."
Lenox blinked.
"I don’t know if you heard the last ti," Matthew continued. "But Catherine doesn’t interest anymore."
When Lenox said nothing, Matthew added. "You can have her, if that’s what you’re worried about."
Lenox frowned. Was Matthew telling the truth? Lenox thought. Does this an he really couldn’t use Catherine to control Matthew anymore?
"I really don’t care who she ends up with," Matthew said coolly as he turned away, not bothering to wait for Lenox’s response.
There was nothing more to say. He had other matters to attend to, more pressing than playing emotional chess with soone he no longer trusted. Sowhere, an impatient professor was no doubt checking the ti, waiting for him to show up. And Matthew wasn’t in the mood to keep anyone waiting.
Lenox had made his decision. He wanted to leave the mansion? Then so be it. Matthew would let him. In fact, he had been waiting for him to leave on his own accord.
His n had been shadowing Lenox for days now. Sadly, they weren’t able to find anything damning—no slip-ups, no proof. But outside the mansion’s walls, with no Cristoff, no household guards, no surveillance filters... Lenox would eventually make a mistake.
Matthew was counting on it.
Without a second glance, he exited the cafeteria. The hallway buzzed faintly with the chatter of other students, but it all blurred together. He had more important things on his mind.
Tomorrow marked the final day of exams, yet Dr. Muni had already texted, summoning him to the office for so last-minute work. Just an hour, the ssage said. Nothing urgent, but firm.
Matthew clicked his tongue as he walked. He still rembered Dr. Muni’s office from his previous life, its clutter, the faint sll of herbs and old wood. The man had always been... unusual.
"Hey," the ghost girl trailing behind him suddenly spoke, her voice low. "That Lenox guy..."
Matthew glanced sideways but didn’t break his stride.
"I don’t like him," she muttered. "He slls wrong. Like rot. Like death."
Matthew slowed a little.
This wasn’t the first ti she’d said sothing like that. She’d said the sa about Argent. About that woman in the tea house, too.
But Lenox?
That didn’t make sense. Lenox had never been to the black market—at least, not yet. He’d been kept clean and protected, hidden behind the Lindberg na like sothing swept under a rug.
So why did he sll like that?
Matthew had always thought only those who’d been to the black market or were involved in shady dealings carried that scent. Apparently, he was wrong.
And that only made him more determined to grow stronger.
If Lenox already slled like that, then there was clearly a lot Matthew still didn’t know about him.
Matthew resud walking, his eyes narrowing in thought. There was only one explanation.
Maybe that stench wasn’t tied to where soone had been—
Maybe it clung to what they had done.
He clenched his jaw slightly, thinking about the ghost he’d seen trailing Lenox. It had vanished after that strange fight with Adam and his group. Maybe he’d accidentally absorbed it.
But that raised another question—had Lenox already killed soone?
...
"You’re late," Dr. Muni said the mont Matthew stepped into the office.
"Just by a minute," Matthew replied, glancing around the room.
The office was cluttered, not with books like most professors, but with old things—relics, scroll fragnts in sealed cases, jars with faded labels, and broken tablets stacked in boxes. The corners were filled with boxes labeled with years, so reaching as far back as 1894. There was a sll in the room—sothing like chalk dust mixed with dried leaves.
In front of Dr. Muni was a stack of papers so tall that Matthew could barely see the top of the man’s head behind it.
Matthew stepped closer and frowned. "Why did you call here? Tomorrow’s the last day of exams. I was hoping to start working after that."
Dr. Muni let out a short huff and pointed to the side of the desk.
"Start today. Begin with that stack over there. One hour a day."
Matthew lifted an eyebrow. He walked over, set his bag on the chair beside the door, and picked up the first paper from the stack. His eyes narrowed.
They were all numbers. Columns and columns of statistics, with occasional handwritten notes in the margins. No titles, no context.
"Am I supposed to organize this?" he asked, flipping the page.
Dr. Muni finally looked up from his side of the desk. He stared at Matthew for a long second, then raised his hand and tapped the top of the paper stack with two fingers.
"Start solving."
Matthew blinked.
Then he blinked again.
He looked down at the sheet. "What do you an, solve? These are just numbers."
Dr. Muni didn’t answer right away. He pulled a folder from a drawer, flipped it open, and then spoke while scanning its contents.
"You’re here because I hired you to do exactly that. Solve them. One sheet at a ti. The formula’s in there as well."
Matthew stared at the page again. Rows of raw data. No equations. No explanations.
"So," he said slowly, "you hired just to be your human calculator?"
"Yes, and calculators don’t talk," Dr. Muni said, without looking up. "Now sit down and start solving."
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