As soon as Adam climbed onto the platform, the classroom erupted into whispers. So laughed about the size of his breasts, others joked that he had beco more beautiful than their sisters.
Among them, Brad said sothing particularly scathing about duty, how a man wouldn’t have betrayed his new comrades on the first day, and how Isolde’s punishnt wasn’t a curse, but a clever spell that showed the world the inside of soone’s heart.
And when his comrade joked about how beautiful Adam’s heart must be, he doubled down, snickering. "Do you an like the pontianaks we’ve learned about during Teacher Louis Sol Zevrin’s lessons last year? They are true beauty indeed. The kind you’ll only see once before she pulls your guts out."
At first, Adam considered taunting them back by thrusting out his chest. The sight of their flushed faces at the uniform-strangled curves would surely have amused him—he thought.
But once he heard about the pontianak, he froze mid-movent. He had t one in the ghostly canyon years ago—a vicious ghost that had almost gutted his brother with her sharp nails, while her enticing perfu and curves had srised him. If he had hated it for a ti, decades had passed, and he had forgiven it for taking Misha’s features. Well, not like he could remain angry after separating head from torso and using its soul as a card for the Battle Monster tournant.
Still, to be compared to that thing? "You’re lucky you’ve only learned about them in class." His lips curled like a dagger. "Go on, Brad. Keep mocking Pontianaks—just know even the weakest of them could feast on your warm innards." He paused, rembering the creature’s threat. Then, his smirk broadened but held no warmth. "I’ve heard they are particularly fond of family jewels. I bet it’d savor yours like honey candies."
Brad’s brown eyes widened, and the others’ laughter died in their throats.
"If you’re done with your antics, we can perhaps actually begin the lesson. Or must I ask permission from undisciplined students now?" Teacher Diane’s voice cut through the silence, stern, leaving no room for future disturbance.
Brad and the others reluctantly lowered their faces, while Jonathan knocked on his desk to draw their attention, then tapped a dissatisfied finger against his pursed lips.
"Now that we have silence, let’s talk about the curse afflicting Adam." Diane nodded. "Who can tell about its effects?"
Jonathan raised his hand instantly before half the class joined him in a cacophony of wooden chairs rattling against stone. Adam watched sparkling eyes in eager faces, slightly confused by their craze to answer.
"Jonathan," Diane smiled. "I’m happy the holidays did nothing to diminish your enthusiasm to answer first. But I’d like to give other students a chance." She turned to a younger boy, who pointed at his own head, silently screaming that he knew the answer. "You can answer, Elliot."
The boy, Elliot, grinned as he rose from his seat. "The curse’s effect is evident, Teacher Diane," he said in a confident tone. "It changes soone’s gender. I’ve heard Isolde set it up to fade on its own tonight, so it’s not permanent."
Adam rolled his eyes, and when he did, he saw Diane’s lips twitch, raising the question: was Elliot a fool?
"Yes, yes. You can sit back." Diane waved her hand dismissively. "Can anyone actually tell sothing about the curse itself, not things even a blind man can see?"
More than half the class lowered their hands. Ultimately, she allowed Brad to answer.
"At first sight, it looks like a shapeshifting spell," Brad started before shaking his head. "But like every curse, it must be impossible to unmake for the afflicted. Perhaps sothing locking cells in their shapeshifted states or sothing similar."
"Good answer. Ten points for your House, Brad." Diane smiled, then completed the explanation. "Isolde’s curse forces the body to recognise its new form as its original while rejecting modifications for a period. A female body is nothing. If you ever enrage her, she can turn you into cats, dogs, or make your body reject a limb or two. Curses are malignant by nature. They are hard to unmake but not quite impossible."
Adam nodded, ignoring Brad’s sharp gaze and smirk. He had figured out as much about the curse, and now even more about the students’ craze. Acceptable answers earned them points—just ten, though. His face grew somber. It would take him forever to recover the two thousand and a hundred points he had lost, longer if he had to pray for teachers to question him.
As he clicked his tongue, he felt Diane’s rough hand lift his.
"Now that we understand the curse’s effect, who has a trail on how to dispel it?" she asked, her teeth showing through her burned left lip.
For a mont, silence. Then, Jonathan hesitatingly raised an ink-stained finger. Diane nodded, and he tried. "Since the curse is bound in ti, I think we can dispel it by making it flow faster for the body."
"Possible, Jonathan." Yet, she shook her head. "But ti affinity is as rare as your suggestion is risky." She tapped on Adam’s hand, a look of pity in her gaze as if she knew sothing. "One wrong move and you’ll make him age to his death. Two points for you."
An icy shiver ran down Adam’s spine. That’s why he had never tried to train his ti affinity. Too dangerous. To him, to those around, to the world. What if he created an area constrained in accelerated ti or a temporal loop unwittingly? Even without Diane’s hand tap, he wouldn’t use it. After all, that was his second main goal in college—find ancient grimoires tied to ti manipulation, preferably a mana gathering technique.
"No one else?" Diane asked, and the students’ hands remained on their desks. "Holidays must have dulled your deduction capabilities. Disappointing. Minus ten points."
The deduction pulled Adam out of his thoughts, eyes widening. Minus ten just like that? The others had told him yesterday that earning points wasn’t easy. This was a pri example. And yet, his lips curved.
"I might have an answer. Probably not the correct one, but an answer nonetheless." His voice broke the tense silence, drawing the others’ gazes like a whirlpool.
He could see their reluctance, hear the terror in their silence, and feel their unspoken plea: don’t make us lose more points.
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