---
A few hours later, the academy had settled into its late-day rhythm.
The sun was lower now, turning the courtyard stone into warm gold and long shadows. The noise of classes had thinned into the softer noise of students moving between halls, arguing about homework, trading rumors like candy, and pretending they were not already exhausted.
Inside Room B-17, John sat at his desk with Fizz hovering above a notebook like a strict teacher who did not believe in mercy. Ray Flame was not there. His bed was empty again, blanket tossed aside. Ray had the talent of always being absent when he should be present, and always present when nobody wanted him.
John's pen moved steadily. Not study notes this time.
Numbers.
Sales.
Simple lists.
"Gael said sixty customers in a day," John said quietly. "That is not normal for a new shop."
Fizz nodded like a businessman even though he looked like a glowing orange dessert. "It is because we are amazing."
John did not smile. "It means eyes."
