"These scales indicate that the dragon underwent multiple stages of evolution or growth right here in our academy."
The elderly headmaster, George, crouched down and picked up a piece of a black scale from the ground. His weathered face was dark with fury as he scrutinized the smooth surface of the scale, which bore no trace of blood. Anger burned in his eyes, which seemed almost alight with fire.
"This dragon didn't even bother cleaning up its tracks. These scales, left behind deliberately, are a statement. It's taunting us."
"Alright, Headmaster," Professor Sanchez said, still surveying the black dragon's tracks and attempting to measure its size. "We know a dragon infiltrated the academy, devoured priceless treasures, and left these traces. What now? Are we supposed to hunt it down?"
"Of course we're going to kill that damn dragon! Do you know how much we lost? Priceless artifacts, relics we could never replace, all gone!" George's voice was strained as he struggled to contain his anger.
"This underground vault housed treasures collected long before the academy's founding—items preserved across centuries. Now, thanks to this beast, they're all gone!"
"And how exactly do you plan to find it?" Sanchez asked, folding his arms. "By now, that dragon could be anywhere—soaring through the skies or hiding in the depths of the sea. There's nowhere it couldn't go."
"That won't be necessary," George said, his tone hardening. "This dragon is arrogant, overconfident. It's still here, in the academy. It's probably watching us scramble in panic and laughing at our incompetence."
"You're sure about that?" Professor Stucart, who had witnessed the dragon up close, looked skeptical.
"Absolutely. This dragon doesn't even bother concealing itself. Its brazen actions speak volumes—it's likely assuming human form and blending into the student body, waiting for us to notice it."
"You think it's still in the school? That's insane! Why would it take such a risk?"
"Why wouldn't it? Even if we find it, what can we do? According to your report, it can dissolve into wind at will. We wouldn't be able to hold it, let alone kill it."
"So, what now?" Sanchez asked. "Do we search the campus, hoping to identify it?"
"We must," George declared firmly. "As long as that dragon remains on campus, it poses an unacceptable risk. If it has other plans, the consequences could be disastrous."
"Owen, where were you last night until this afternoon?"
At Owen's dorm room door, a man clad in a tailored black coat looked at Muria with a grave expression.
"What do you think? Sleeping, of course. You have no idea how exhausting that last mission was," Muria replied lazily, rubbing his eyes as if still groggy.
"Were you alone the entire time?"
"I watched a little TV and read before going to bed," Muria answered, gesturing to the open book on his desk.
"So, no one can verify your whereabouts during that time?"
"Professor, is something wrong? Why are you interrogating me like a criminal? I'm a good student, you know."
"Please answer the question. Can anyone confirm your alibi?"
"Nope." Muria shrugged. "I don't have any strange hobbies, so I wouldn't invite anyone to my room late at night."
"Come on, Owen," a voice interrupted from the adjacent dorm. A disheveled student poked his head out, smirking. "Striving for humanity's future isn't a weird hobby—it's perfectly natural."
As if on cue, a neatly dressed young woman emerged from the next room and gave Muria a cheerful greeting, "Good morning, Owen!"
"So," Muria said flatly, "they're cleared of suspicion because they were… collaborating on humanity's future?" He turned to the professor, his expression deadpan.
"Yes. But you, being alone during that time, remain a primary suspect."
"Professor, what happened? Why all the questioning?" the neighboring student asked curiously.
"That's classified. Just stay where you are and don't cause any trouble," the professor replied curtly.
"Does this mean I'll be investigated too?" Muria asked, feigning concern. "Surely I'm not the only one who was alone last night. Will all of us be treated as major suspects?"
"Yes," the professor confirmed. "Everyone without a solid alibi during the time frame will be investigated thoroughly. But if you're innocent, as you say, then you've got nothing to worry about."
"Well then," Muria yawned and stretched. "Good luck with the investigation." He shut the door with a click.
At the Boardroom
Around a long oak table, the academy's leadership and senior professors gathered, their expressions grave. At the head of the table, George sat, his hands clasped tightly as a senior investigator reported the results of their campus-wide inquiry.
"After questioning all students and staff, we've identified 412 individuals without alibis during the incident. Among them, 17 are high-priority suspects. However, one individual stands out: Owen. The likelihood of him being the dragon is as high as 90%."
"Explain," George said, his voice cold.
"Owen, a C-ranked bloodline student, returned three days ago from his first dragon-slaying mission. His behavior has been unusual ever since."
The investigator tapped the table, projecting footage of Owen's interaction with the student council president, Caesar, during a campus event.
"His demeanor is entirely different from before. It's as if he's a completely different person."
"That's insufficient evidence," another professor argued. "A change in personality is normal after such an intense mission. Trauma, stress—it could be anything."
"There's more," the investigator continued. "At the celebration banquet, he openly provoked Caesar, which is highly irregular behavior for a student of his standing."
"Still not enough," someone else interjected. "Many students idolize Caesar. A first-time dragon slayer might feel emboldened to challenge him. It's not unheard of."
"The most damning evidence," the investigator pressed on, "is that Owen's team failed to recover the dragon's corpse. Their claim of success is unverified."
The room fell into an uneasy silence.
"So, Professor, what are you suggesting?" George finally asked, his voice dangerously calm.
"The mission was a failure. Their memories were likely altered, and Owen… Owen was probably killed. The dragon replaced him, infiltrating the academy in his guise. What happened next, you all know."
"That's enough, Professor," George said, his gaze sweeping the room. "Now, what's everyone's opinion?"
"It's all speculation," one professor said.
"Speculation or not, it's credible enough to act," another countered.
George stood, his presence commanding as he leaned on the table. "Who says we can't deal with it? We've killed dragon kings before. A fledgling dragon is nothing!"
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