After two days of heavy rain, the storm had finally passed. The sun rose like an orange disk over the horizon, ushering in a bright day.

  Morning sunlight seeped through the curtains as Viara slept. As it brushed across her face, her eyes slowly opened.

  She lay still for another minute, then sat up, yawning and stretching languidly.

  Her gaze fell on her phone beside the pillow. She picked it up to check the time.

  7:32 A.M.

  She noticed a flood of notifications right below the time. Her friends and classmates, worried after nearly a week of her absence, were trying to reach her.

  Excitement surged at the thought of returning to school and seeing everyone again—but a shiver of fear followed.

  As soon as the memories of that fateful night resurfaced, she violently shook them off.

  “Come on, Viara. Focus on the good side,” she told herself. “Don’t let bad memories define you.”

  She took a few deep breaths and then forced a smile, swung off the bed, and headed straight to the bathroom to freshen up.

  Erica was busy cleaning when she noticed Viara enter the bathroom. She smiled, relieved that Viara had finally recovered.

  Cassie had also just woken up. She came to the living room, still in her pajamas, rubbing her sleepy eyes.

  “Good morning, Lady Lysandra,” Erica greeted with a polite bow.

  “Good morning, Erica,” Cassie replied, yawning.

  “I’ll go get fresh. Is breakfast ready?”

  “Almost ready, my lady,” Erica replied.

  “Lady Elysia is currently using the bathroom. You will have to wait.”

  Cassie blinked. “She’s up?”

  The bathroom door opened, and Viara stepped out while tying her hair.

  Cassie’s face lit up. “Vi!”

  She rushed forward and pulled Viara into a tight hug. “How are you feeling now?”

  Viara hugged her back. “A lot better. Can’t wait to go back to school.”

  Erica smiled softly, warmed by their everlasting care for each other. With a small nod to herself, she turned and headed back to the kitchen to finish preparing breakfast.

  The dorm gradually filled with quiet morning sounds—the gentle clatter of utensils, the low hum of appliances, the faint hiss of something warming on the stove.

  By the time Erica returned, a good while had passed.

  Cassie and Viara were already seated at the kitchen table, both refreshed. Their earlier tension softened into easy conversation.

  They both looked up as Erica approached, carrying the finished meal.

  “My apologies for keeping you both waiting,” Erica said gently as she set the dishes down.

  “It’s fine,” Cassie replied. “We were just talking.”

  Viara nodded, her expression lighter than it had been in days. “Yeah. It feels… nice.”

  Erica watched them for a moment longer, satisfied, before stepping back to let them eat. She gave them a polite bow before heading back to the kitchen to pack their lunch.

  The two continued their conversation as they ate comfortably. Halfway through the meal, Viara slowed, glancing toward the window where the trees outside swayed gently in the breeze.

  “…You know,” she said softly, “it might feel nice to take a short walk through the park before school. Just to clear my head.”

  Cassie looked up from her plate, studying Viara’s expression for a second before smiling.

  “That sounds like a good idea,” she said. “We’ll just leave a bit earlier.”

  The two nodded at each other and focused back on finishing breakfast.

  A warm shower, changing into uniforms, and preparations for classes followed before the two were finally at the front door with their bags slung over their shoulders.

  They got their shoes on, Cassie opened the door, and both of them waved bye to Erica before heading out.

  They left the dormitory and stepped onto the quiet morning road, their shoes tapping softly against the damp pavement. The city felt different after the storm—cleaner somehow, as if the rain had scrubbed away the lingering heaviness of the past few days.

  People could be seen passing by. Some in office attire were walking towards their workplace. Some jogging or taking a morning walk. Even other students who were heading to school early.

  Cassie and Viara walked side by side, passing low walls and neatly trimmed hedges, until they took a left turn that led away from the main street.

  Green stretched out in every direction. Tall trees lined the paths, their leaves still darkened by rain, droplets clinging stubbornly to the branches. Bushes and small shrubs filled the spaces between, vibrant and alive, as if the storm had breathed new life into them.

  Shallow puddles dotted the stone walkway, reflecting fragments of sky and the slow movement of clouds above.

  Viara stepped carefully around one, then deliberately through another, watching the water ripple around her shoe. She inhaled deeply, letting the cool, earthy scent of wet grass and leaves fill her lungs.

  “I missed this so much,” she said, almost to herself.

  A faint hum followed her words—soft and unstructured, more a feeling than a tune. Her pace loosened, shoulders easing as she walked, eyes wandering from the canopy overhead to the glistening ground below.

  Cassie noticed the change but said nothing, content to walk beside her as the park welcomed them in.

  They found an empty bench beneath a broad tree and sat down, letting the quiet of the park settle around them. For a minute or two, neither of them spoke. The distant rustle of leaves and the faint sound of birds were enough.

  Then something brushed against Viara’s right leg.

  She yelped, jerking sharply as panic surged through her. Her breath caught, and she instinctively pulled her legs back, heart pounding.

  “Vi—?” Cassie turned to her at once. “Are you okay?”

  “S-something just—” Viara’s voice was tight as she hurriedly shifted her legs and leaned forward, peering beneath the bench.

  A small shape stared back at her.

  It was a cat—short-haired, light-colored, with a collar around its neck. It blinked up at her lazily, completely unbothered.

  Viara froze for a second… then exhaled shakily.

  “…It’s just a cat,” she murmured, the tension draining from her shoulders. She straightened and sat back down, one hand pressing lightly against her thigh as if reassuring herself.

  Almost immediately, the cat hopped up onto the bench and climbed into her lap, curling there as if it belonged.

  Cassie let out a soft laugh. “Looks like it likes you.”

  Viara managed a small smile, her fingers gently brushing through the cat’s fur.

  “Yeah… probably because it’s a domestic cat,” she said, calmer now.

  “Strays don’t usually get this close.”

  She stroked it absentmindedly, the earlier panic fading completely as the cat purred and leaned into her touch. For a few quiet minutes, they stayed like that—sunlight filtering through the leaves, the world feeling unthreatening again.

  Eventually, Cassie glanced at the time. “We should get going if we don’t want to be late.”

  Viara nodded. “Yeah.”

  She gave the cat one last gentle pat. “Take care, okay?”

  The cat hopped down, tail flicking as it wandered off between the trees.

  Viara stood, and Cassie rose beside her. Together, they turned away from the bench and started walking back toward the road that led to school, the calm of the park lingering with them as they left.

  By the time they reached the school gates, the morning had fully settled into its usual rhythm. Students filtered into the main building in clusters, their voices overlapping in a familiar din.

  Cassie and Viara stepped into their classroom together.

  As expected, the room fell silent.

  Conversations died mid-sentence. Chairs stopped scraping. Eyes turned almost instinctively toward the door. Cassie Lysandra von Solheim had that effect as always.

  But this time, something else happened.

  A few girls near the windows froze, then their faces lit up all at once.

  “Princess Elysia—?”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “She’s back!”

  Before Cassie could even take another step, whispers spread across the room.

  Cassie and Viara walked to their desks. Cassie set her bag down neatly. Viara slid into her usual seat, shoulders slightly tense but posture steady.

  Cassie’s gaze drifted naturally across the room.

  Zen was slumped over his desk, fast asleep, both arms folded under his head like he hadn’t moved since dawn. Finn sat ahead, already absorbed in a book, eyes scanning lines with quiet focus.

  Cassie approached Finn, stopping beside his desk.

  “He’s sleeping as always, huh?” she murmured, nodding toward Zen. Her tone was light, casual—careful not to wake him.

  Finn glanced back briefly, then returned to his book.

  “Yeah. Life’s been rough for him. Kinda unfair, honestly.”

  Cassie’s eyes softened as she gazed at his sleeping form.

  “I wish he were more open about what’s bothering him.”

  Finn shrugged. “You’re not the only one in that department.”

  Meanwhile, the girls had already gathered around Viara.

  “We were so worried about you!”

  “You disappeared for days—what happened?”

  “We went to visit, but your maid said you weren’t available.”

  At first, Viara smiled. She nodded, answered a few questions softly, relief flickering in her eyes at the familiar faces.

  But the circle tightened. More classmates approached.

  More voices. More questions. Too close.

  She panicked. Her breathing hitched.

  Her fingers curled against her skirt. Her smile faltered. Then, suddenly—

  Viara shut her eyes.

  Her body went rigid in the chair, shoulders locked, hands clenched as if bracing for something that wasn’t there.

  The commotion woke Zen up. He lifted his head and looked at the crowd with half-lidded eyes, then at Viara’s posture.

  “That’s not good.”

  Cassie turned and noticed instantly.

  She crossed the room in three quick steps and placed herself beside Viara without a word. Her presence alone was enough.

  The chatter stopped.

  Everyone instinctively backed away, murmuring apologies as they dispersed, the circle breaking as quickly as it had formed.

  Cassie crouched slightly, lowering her voice. “You okay, Vi? Feeling unwell?”

  Viara opened her eyes slowly. She forced a breath, then another.

  “I’m fine,” she said quickly, too quickly. “I just—got overwhelmed.”

  Her voice was steady, but her hands still trembled faintly in her lap.

  Cassie didn’t press. She stayed there, standing close, a quiet shield between Viara and the rest of the room.

  The instructor walked in soon after, and the class slowly returned to its normal hum—but the tension lingered, subtle and unresolved.

  The academy building rooftop was bathed in warm midday light.

  Small, round tables were arranged across the open space, each shaded by a wide umbrella anchored at its center. The stone flooring still held faint dark patches where rainwater had lingered from the storm days before.

  Despite lunchtime, the rooftop remained mostly empty, as always. A few students sat far apart, enjoying the quiet—nothing like the crowded cafeteria below.

  Cassie and Viara stepped out onto the roof, each carrying a neatly packed lunchbox.

  Viara slowed her steps as she took it in. The calm. The space. The absence of noise.

  They chose an empty table near the edge and sat down. Viara placed her lunchbox on the table but didn’t open it right away. Her gaze drifted toward the stairwell door they had come through.

  “I was really looking forward to lunch today,” she said softly. “I thought… I’d finally sit with our new friends.”

  Cassie followed her line of sight, immediately understanding who she meant.

  “We’ll get there,” Cassie said gently. “You don’t have to force it.”

  Viara gave a small nod, though her expression dimmed. “I know. It just feels unfair. I’m healed, but it doesn’t feel like it.”

  Cassie rested her elbows on the table. “That’s because healing isn’t just physical. And the cafeteria…” She smiled faintly. “It’s always loud. Crowded. You don’t need that right now.”

  That earned a quiet exhale from Viara.

  They began opening their lunchboxes when a familiar voice called out.

  “There you are.”

  Julianna stepped onto the rooftop, holding her own lunchbox under one arm. She looked slightly amused, slightly relieved.

  Viara’s face brightened immediately. “Miss President!”

  “I figured you wouldn’t be in the cafeteria,” Julianna said as she approached. “But I still checked. Then I asked Finn if he’d seen you two.”

  Cassie gestured to the empty chair. “Have a seat.”

  “Gladly.”

  Julianna sat down, setting her lunchbox on the table. She glanced at Viara with a careful, assessing look—not intrusive, just concerned.

  “How are you holding up?” she asked. “Honestly.”

  Viara hesitated for a moment, then smiled. “I’m… getting there. Slowly.”

  “If there’s anything you need—notes, company, silence—you just say the word,” Julianna said without hesitation.

  Viara nodded, clearly touched. “Thank you. Really.”

  As the three of them ate together, the table settled into a soft conversation, and the rustle of leaves carried by the breeze.

  Post-lunch classes continued smoothly.

  Viara tried forcing herself to focus on the lectures, but she couldn’t. Bad memories continued to flood in randomly, and each time, she shook them off.

  Her gaze drifted to Zen, who was reading a completely different topic in his book than the one being discussed in the lecture.

  Watching him prompted her mind to recall the memory of when he had saved her, and she suddenly felt safe, her fears beginning to fade. But she knew she couldn’t rely on him forever to save her from danger. Not when she was also studying to become a warrior.

  After four periods, classes finally came to an end. The final bell rang, sharp and relieving.

  Chairs scraped back almost instantly as the classroom came alive—voices rising, bags slung over shoulders, plans forming for the evening. Within moments, the room began to empty.

  Finn zipped his bag shut and glanced over at Zen.

  “Dude, I’m so tired. Can’t wait to catch some sleep.”

  Zen stood up slowly, lifting his own bag.

  “I’ve got some things to take care of. Go on without me.”

  Finn didn’t question it. “Alright. See you later.”

  He gave a quick wave and disappeared into the flow of students leaving the room.

  Cassie finished packing as well, but when she straightened up, Viara was still seated.

  She wasn’t looking at her bag.

  Her eyes were fixed on Zen, who was lazily stuffing books into his bag, completely unbothered by the thinning classroom.

  Cassie noticed immediately.

  She leaned in close and whispered, “I’ll give you some space.”

  Then, softer, “Take your time.”

  Viara nodded, grateful, and Cassie quietly left the room.

  For a few seconds, Viara stayed seated, hands clenched lightly in her lap. Her heartbeat felt louder now that the classroom was nearly empty. She inhaled once—then stood and walked over.

  “Zen?” she asked, her voice careful. “Do you… have a few minutes?”

  Zen had just slung his bag over his shoulder. He turned to face her.

  “What’s up?”

  Viara hesitated. Heat crept up her cheeks.

  “I just—” she started, then steadied herself. “I wanted to thank you. For that night. For saving me.”

  She swallowed. “And for returning my scythe. I didn’t even realize I’d lost it.”

  She looked down briefly, then back up.

  “I don’t know how to repay you.”

  Zen didn’t answer right away.

  “You don’t have to,” he said eventually. His tone was calm, almost flat.

  “I just wish I’d arrived sooner. So, you wouldn’t have had to go through that. I’m sorry.”

  Viara shook her head quickly. “It’s okay. Really. What you did was already… more than enough.”

  There was another pause.

  She shifted her weight, clearly debating something.

  Then, quietly, she said, “Thank you.”

  Softer than before.

  “And I… I’m sorry that I needed saving.”

  Before she could lose her nerve, Viara took a small step forward. She leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss against his cheek.

  It lasted a second.

  Zen didn’t move—not out of shock, not out of warmth, but simply out of courtesy. When she pulled back, he remained exactly as he was.

  An awkward silence stretched between them.

  Then, he exhaled.

  “Unnecessary,” all he said. No reaction.

  Viara blinked.

  Then she let out a breath she’d been holding, her blush deepening—but she smiled. A small laugh escaped her before she could stop it.

  “You’re such a meanie,” she said, teasing rather than offended.

  Zen didn’t respond.

  Viara turned and grabbed her bag from her desk. She looked behind one more time and waved, smiling, then quickly left.

  “Bye. See you tomorrow.”

  And just like that, she was gone—footsteps light and hurried.

  Zen stood there for a moment longer and then looked at the sky out the window.

  He didn’t mistake her act for anything more than a friendly gesture. He wouldn’t be able to even if he wanted. After all, to a young veteran of war like him, emotions were but a weakness on the battlefield.

  He finally turned and walked out of the class. He had far more important matters to worry about.

  The corridors were now empty. A few students who lingered behind were finally walking through the school grounds towards the exit.

  Instead of heading to the building exit, Zen went towards the administration division. From there, he took a right turn and slipped down a quieter hall—one most students never had a reason to use.

  The corridors narrowed, and the lighting shifted from warm daylight panels to cool, controlled white. Two restricted checkpoints passed without incident. No alarms. No questions.

  At the end of the corridor stood the elevator.

  It didn’t look like anything meant for convenience. The doors were thick, reinforced, the seams barely visible—closer to a vault than a lift.

  Zen stopped in front of the scanner and tapped his student ID against it.

  A soft tone chimed.

  The doors unlocked with a muted hydraulic hiss and slid apart just enough to let him in. Once inside, the space felt dense—shielded, insulated. The doors sealed behind him, locking with a deep mechanical thud.

  The elevator descended.

  Not fast. Not slow. Purposeful.

  By the time it came to a halt, the pressure shift was barely noticeable. The doors opened onto a completely different world.

  Bright, polished corridors stretched ahead, illuminated by clean, even lighting. The air was cooler, filtered. Staff moved with practiced efficiency—engineers, analysts, technicians—some carrying tablets, others deep in conversation as holographic readouts floated beside them.

  Zen walked past laboratories lined with reinforced glass. Inside, research divisions worked in parallel: weapon diagnostics, elemental energy simulations, material synthesis, etc.

  Holograms flickered, data scrolled, and machines hummed softly in the background.

  He didn’t slow until he reached his destination.

  A hydraulic door recognized his presence and slid open.

  Inside, the room was quiet and focused.

  A holographic display hovered in the center, rotating slowly. Suspended within it was a reconstructed bullet, pieced together from fragments, every groove and deformation mapped in precise detail.

  Standing before it was a girl with short silver hair, dressed in a black-and-blue gear tracksuit.

  Her arms were folded as she studied the projection, eyes sharp, posture relaxed in the way only someone completely at home in a lab could be.

  Zen stepped up beside her.

  “Planning to write a thesis on it?”

  She glanced at him, her focus breaking, then immediately burst out laughing.

  “Oh wow,” she said, amusement clear on her face. “You know, that’s not how you greet a friend you haven’t seen in a long time.”

  Zen shrugged. “You looked busy.”

  She shook her head, smiling despite herself. “Of course you’d say that.”

  Her gaze returned to the hologram; resignation mixed with familiarity. “Still the same, huh?”

  Zen didn’t respond—but he didn’t deny it either.

  Saya turned back to the hovering hologram, fingers flicking through layers of data as the reconstructed bullet slowly rotated in the air.

  “I’ve been analyzing the projectile,” she said.

  “And?” he asked.

  She tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing in focus. “It’s made from a very expensive alloy. Not designed to punch through armor directly—but to bypass a gear’s electromagnetic shield first. Once it does, it transfers its kinetic energy into a very small point on the armor plate.”

  She glanced at him. “Whoever pulled that trigger really wanted you dead.”

  Zen sighed, unimpressed. “I get that a lot.”

  Saya rolled her eyes, amused. “Of course you do.”

  Before she could add more, the hydraulic door behind them slid open.

  Commander Stelle stepped inside, her sharp gaze immediately settling on Saya.

  “So,” she said evenly, “you’re finally here, Miss Krylova.”

  Saya straightened instantly and snapped a clean salute.

  “Sofia Aleksandrovna Krylova, at your service.”

  Commander Stelle nodded once, satisfied. “It’s good to work with our Russian prodigy again. Report.”

  “I’ve completed the preliminary analysis,” Saya replied. “I’ll forward a full breakdown of the bullet’s specifications shortly.”

  She then gestured toward Zen. “I was about to begin work on his gear.”

  Zen stepped forward and pressed his left hand against the wall-mounted scanner of a gear hanger. The system hummed softly as it authenticated him.

  In response, his gear housing unit released a cloud of nanoparticles that flowed seamlessly into the gear hanger and reformed Alpha-02 piece by piece.

  Saya leaned in closer, eyes sharp as she studied the damage on the gear’s armor.

  “…Impressive,” she murmured after a moment. “At night, this gear would be almost impossible to track visually from a long distance.”

  She looked back at Zen. “Which means the sniper likely used a thermal scope.”

  “I suspected as much,” Zen replied. “Alpha-02 is combat-grade, not stealth.”

  “Can you do anything about the thermal signature?” he asked.

  “Reducing the thermal signature is possible,” Saya said. “But it’ll reduce the overall performance metrics significantly, and maintenance time—and cost—will roughly double.”

  Zen nodded without hesitation. “That’s fine.”

  Saya met his gaze, then nodded back. “I’ll get started. It’ll be ready by tomorrow.”

  Commander Stelle raised an eyebrow. “That fast?”

  Saya smiled faintly. “I’m Professor Frank’s protégée for a reason.”

  “The sooner it’s done,” Zen added, “the sooner we can start counter-surveillance.”

  “You’re planning to do that alone?” Saya asked.

  “No,” Commander Stelle cut in smoothly. “I’ll provide resources. Logistics will cover most of the city’s blind spots.”

  Zen glanced at her. “Sounds expensive.”

  She smirked, unfazed. “Oh, please. It’s the least I can do. Someone aimed a gun at one of my operatives.”