A week passed like an hour.
Bolt felt truly happy for the first time in years — safe and warm among the group. They stood up for him, taught him magic, and treated him like an equal. One of the rooftops became their hangout spot during lunch and free periods, where they practiced spells, worked on assignments, and just… laughed like ordinary (well, not really) teenagers.
It was the month of Marchand. On one typically cold evening, the group lounged in the tower's cozy common room.
Kaya and Bolt sat at the study table, both scribbling furiously. Luke strolled in quietly, noticing them but not disturbing Henry, who was curled up near the fireplace, fast asleep.
Kaya was copying physics notes, papers scattered like a mini snowstorm around him.
"You're a prince," Luke teased, leaning over Kaya's shoulder, "and yet I've never seen anyone make such a mess."
Bolt jumped at the voice, his mana flaring and forming a glowing orb that shot into the air before fizzling harmlessly.
"Geez! You nearly got yourself killed," Bolt grumbled, glaring. "Stop sneaking up like that!" He huffed, then added more softly, "Sorry for shouting. I'm writing to my mom. She must be worried. I'll join you guys once I'm done — for now, ask someone else."
Luke chuckled and plopped down next to him, spinning a volleyball idly on his fingers.
"If that falls on my desk," Bolt warned darkly, "I will throw you out the window."
Just then, Lauran walked in, clapping her hands.
"Boys! Let's play volleyball," she called cheerfully.
Henry stirred at the sound of her voice — though being woken up made him grumpy — and slowly pulled on his jacket. His cheeks were flushed from a mild fever, and his tone was unusually polite, almost dazed.
"As you wish, Lady Lauran," he said.
"Henry! You have a cold!" Lauran scolded, planting her hands on her hips. "Go to bed! Besides, I still haven't agreed to make you my knight. If Ostasia becomes free, I want you as prime minister — not if you keep being reckless. You're the future Archduke of Ostasia. Be more sensible. Bolt! Watch over him. You two—come with me. I want to practice my receives."
"Yes, ma'am," the boys chorused, following her out.
When the others left, Bolt sat next to Henry and sighed.
"So… you want to be her guardian knight? Have you lost your mind? She doesn't need one. Your ancestors would be proud if you became a noble in your own right. People won't disrespect you — or them. Sigh. I'll make sure historians don't write nonsense about you."
Henry's shoulders relaxed at that, and he lay back down, finally letting himself rest.
Bolt resumed writing his letter, thinking:
It really is hard to redeem your family after what they've done. We just keep falling as we try.
He finished his letter late that evening:
Dear Mom,
I'm doing well at the academy. I've made friends and joined a research group. They're all nobles, but they don't act like it. They even stand up for me. Lady Lauran's temper is something else — she's hard to calm down when she's mad. The classes are amazing, though Professor Gean seems to hate me. He says things like: "You look just like him. They raised you well, you have mana and don't even know it — loser, like your dad." I get so angry when he says that. Which dad is he even talking about? The one who abandoned me, or the one who raised me?
The director knows you both. He's kind to me. My roommate is Luke Greystone — he drags me all over the place. He's a fun guy. The prince is different than I expected. He's a total nerd and an anime weeb. He's great at chemistry and biology but hopeless at physics — like Gojo, Ichigo, and Ash rolled into one. Henry's still distant. People avoid him, but sometimes I catch him being… human. No wonder people find him hard to handle.
Sometimes I just want to come home. But they need me here — it feels like I'm the eldest sibling in a chaotic zoo of god-level younger siblings. Cleaning the research room took two days. Next weekend we're going to the amusement park for our first group hangout. I'm taking care of myself and having a good time.
You were right — the academy is an amazing place. Thank you both for raising me as your own, giving me this life, these memories.
Your loving son,
Bolt Zleare
He sealed the envelope, added a postcard, and stepped outside to post it.
On his way back, he paused, watching his friends laugh and toss the volleyball around.
Thank you, Zleares, for giving me this life. I'll make you proud someday.
Bolt smiled softly and joined the game.
But when Lauran missed a receive and the ball rolled toward the edge of the rooftop, Bolt jogged over to retrieve it — and froze.
That feeling again.
Someone was watching.
The sensation pricked at his skin, cold and sharp — just like yesterday during lunch.
He forced a laugh, waving his hands. "It's freezing out here — let's go inside!"
No one noticed his unease as they followed him back into the tower.
Before closing the door, Bolt glanced back — catching sight of a bird gliding silently through the dark sky.
He let it go and suggested lightly,
"Why don't we have a sleepover? The whole tower is ours anyway. Better than getting yelled at by the dorm wardens. Plus, it's closer to the school building."
Everyone eagerly agreed and headed toward the kitchen to prepare a midnight meal.
None of them noticed the figure watching them from the shadows beyond.
Alex — or rather, the one who now wore his face — stood quietly, a faint smirk playing at his lips.
The real Alex, trapped in a dream world of his own creation, didn't even realize that his body was being used as a pawn.
Something dangerous was coming.
And no one — not Bolt, not Lauran, not even Henry — could stop it.