The grandfather clock in the study ticked loudly. It echoed like a war drum in the suffocating silence of the room.
Lucien leaned back in his leather chair. He stared blankly at the ceiling.
A Demon King. An attack on the Imperial Academy. The entire Golden Generation wiped out in a single afternoon.
"Boss...?" Alicia's trembling voice broke through his spiraling thoughts.
Lucien slowly lowered his gaze. She was still clutching her bloodstained tunic. Her crimson eyes were filled with a desperate, terrified plea.
"We can't tell the Imperial Guard," Lucien stated. His voice was completely flat.
Alicia flinched. "But... the Academy—"
"Think about it, Alicia," Lucien interrupted. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the mahogany desk. "There is a massive chance they won't even believe us. And even if they do, we are already too late. The Academy Exhibition starts tomorrow, few hours from now. Who can we inform in the middle of the night."
