Jason and Eric continued their conversation as they walked toward Jason's resting area, with Tristan silently trailing behind them. The two second-years spoke freely, creating the perfect opportunity for Tristan. He had stumbled upon something new—something vital—and now needed to build upon this newfound knowledge. The bloodline Jason spoke of might just be the key to unlocking the mystery behind Marry's killer. Yet, as he followed behind them, his patience began to fray.
A harrowing thought crept into his mind: Could Jason be the perpetrator?
He stared at the boy ahead—so young, with a wide, inviting smile that betrayed nothing sinister. Tristan quickly shook his head, brushing aside the suspicion.
'He's too young. Most likely, the person responsible must've gone to school with Marry. Someone who carries the bloodline. I need more information... but Eric can't know what I'm doing. I may need to come back—alone.'
"Eric, I think our break's about to end. I should be heading back," Tristan said.
The two stopped. Eric turned and nodded.
"You're right. We should be going. It was good seeing you, Jason," he said.
They exchanged farewells before Eric and Tristan made their way back to the rounded stairway. As they climbed the spiraling steps, Eric began to speak—though Tristan had little interest in the conversation, his mind still lost in its own shadows.
"Jason and I are childhood friends, no we're more adopted brothers than childhood friends," Eric began. "He was always bullied when we were younger, but he never stopped smiling. He smiled even through the pain."
'Well, he's a better person than I am,' Tristan thought coldly.
Eric continued, "I became his friend after he was adopted by my family. His own family was a mess—an alcoholic father and a mother who was never around. He was so alone. Eventually, his parents abandoned him to the orphanage my family frequently visited. We took him in, but he chose to keep his family's last name. I still don't know why though."
"You seem like such a guarded person," Tristan said, his wandering mind refocusing. "Why are you telling me all this?"
They reached the top of the stairs, closed the hidden door, and exited the shed.
"Because I feel we're the same," Eric replied. "Both of us are driven—focused on doing whatever it takes to secure our own futures. We're selfish beings, you and I."
'I'd rather not be like you,' Tristan thought grimly, turning his gaze away.
They walked back toward the school. From a distance, students could be seen returning to the main school building.
"One more thing," Eric added. "Even though we are selfish, when we find someone truly special to us, we're willing to do anything to keep them safe. In that way, we are exactly the same."
With that, Eric stepped into the academy, leaving Tristan behind.
He remained outside for a moment, letting Eric's words echo in his mind. Tristan—no, the lazy man—was indeed guarded. He acted in ways that would ultimately benefit himself. Those truths were undeniable. But the real question loomed: Was he truly willing to do anything to protect someone he grows close to?
He hadn't been in this world long enough to know the answer.
Could he even claim that anyone had managed to etch themselves into his already darkened heart?
He shrugged and muttered to himself, "Who knows?"
Upon entering the main building, he found Garfield in the assembly hall, speaking to the boy who had been bullied. Garfield noticed Tristan from the corner of his eye and walked over to him, a calm, confident smile on his face.
"How is he?" Tristan asked, casting a glance toward the shaken boy.
"He's fine... just rattled."
Tristan didn't inquire further. The information he'd gathered today had already exceeded his expectations. Still, as his eyes lingered on the boy, his mind drifted back to a buried memory.
"So... did you find anything?" Garfield asked.
Tristan blinked and snapped back to the present.
"What?"
Garfield repeated himself, lowering his voice.
"Did you get any information regarding the missing students?"
Tristan shook his head.
"No. But... I want to know something about a bloodline that can control Fallen Star Beasts. Do you know anything about them?"
Garfield tilted his head, his expression twisting with confusion.
"I've heard of them, but I don't know much. Why? Is it connected to the missing students?"
"Not really," Tristan replied. "But I don't want you asking any more questions. I'll keep focusing on the Committee—since it doesn't seem like you'll be welcomed back."
Garfield sighed and gave a slight shrug.
"Fine then."
Some time passed. The two returned to class, greeted by the scornful stares of their fellow classmates. One glare stood out—vicious, hateful. But just like before, they ignored them.
The next class began: Plant Studies. They were taught about the various plants that grew in Constella—some edible, some fatally poisonous. Audrey Davies led the class, using pictures for visual identification of dangerous and harmless flora.
Afterward came Ethics Class, the subject designed to teach students the formalities required to navigate a world ruled by nobles. They learned which forks to use, which knives, and at what time. It was a highly refined class—but only for those deemed worthy by Alice White.
Tristan and Garfield were not.
They stood in the corner, while the other students sat at round tables covered in pristine white cloths, seated on cushioned chairs. On the tables were polished white plates, with silverware laid out to the side—forks, knives, and spoons gleaming.
Alice White's reason for excluding them was sharp and unapologetic. In her refined tone, she declared,
"They have no need for this. They are not nobles. They are the lowest kind of people in this country—those from the Lower Districts."
Her logic was not questioned. In the country of Constella, it was standard. Everyone agreed—except for one.
Amelia.
Without hesitation, she walked to Tristan and Garfield's side, choosing to boycott the lesson.
"They're my partners," she said in her usual emotionless tone. "So it's only right we remain on the same wavelength—especially in matters like this."
Alice smirked.
"I would not advise you to do that."
"Unfortunately," Amelia replied, "I don't take advice from you."