Revan didn't need to turn around to know who it was. That voice had been a fixture in his life for twelve long years.
'Of course. Of fucking course.'
'The universe really can't let me have a single peaceful conversation, can it?'
Slowly, deliberately, Revan turned to face the entrance.
Standing at the entrance of the Restricted Section was a figure straight out of a romance novel villain's handbook.
The afternoon light filtering through the narrow ceiling slits caught his silver-blonde hair, giving him an almost ethereal glow. His academy uniform—the same design every student wore—somehow looked like it had been tailored by angels specifically for his body. Not a single wrinkle. Not a thread out of place.
His face was the kind that portrait artists would kill to paint. Sharp aristocratic features. A jawline that could cut glass. And those eyes—pale blue, clear as winter sky, beautiful as frozen lakes.
Beautiful, and just as cold.
Cedric von Ravencrest.
The Ravencrest family's golden heir. Sylvia's official fiancé.
"Lord Cedric," Elara's voice trembled.
"I... I didn't expect to see you here."
'Of course you didn't. Because he shouldn't be here.'
Revan's eyes flickered to the iron gate they had passed through earlier. The Restricted Section required special authorization. Students couldn't just waltz in on a whim.
'What did I expect from this academy? Here, family position is everything.'
"I heard you were researching something fascinating," Cedric said, a smile spreading across his face as he stepped closer.
"Curses, was it? How... morbid."
He paused beside the desk, his pale eyes scanning the book titles scattered across its surface. His expression remained pleasant, but Revan caught the way his gaze lingered on certain volumes.
"Perhaps I could assist?" Cedric continued, his attention returning to Elara.
"My family library contains several rare texts on the subject. First editions. Manuscripts that haven't been copied anywhere else."
He leaned slightly closer, invading her personal space with practiced ease.
"I would be delighted to share them with you. Over tea, perhaps? I know a lovely spot in the eastern garden where we could discuss your research in... private."
Elara's face had gone pale. Her mouth opened and closed, but no words came out.
Revan recognized that expression. It was the look of someone desperately searching for an escape route and finding none.
The Ravencrest family is one of the most powerful houses in the kingdom. Cedric's father has deep connections in the royal court. And Cedric himself is engaged to Sylvia—the Duke of Vespera's only daughter.
If Elara refuses him directly, it could cause political problems for her father.
'But if she accepts...'
Revan had seen what happened to Cedric's previous "interests." Girls who caught his attention, enjoyed his charming company for a few weeks or months, and then... vanished.
Not literally, of course. That would be too obvious.
They transferred to different academies. Stopped attending social functions. Retreated from public life entirely.
Broken toys, discarded once the novelty wore off.
'Not happening. Not today.'
"I'm afraid Lady Elara has a prior engagement."
Revan stepped forward, smoothly inserting himself between Cedric and his target.
Cedric's smile didn't waver, but something shifted behind those pale blue eyes. A flicker of surprise, perhaps. Or annoyance.
"Revan von Alstaire."
The warmth drained from his voice
"Still playing the loyal dog, I see."
"Twelve years and counting, Lord Ravencrest."
Revan met his gaze directly.
"Consistency is a virtue, wouldn't you agree?"
"Is it?"
Cedric tilted his head, studying Revan with renewed interest. The way one might study an insect that had suddenly done something unexpected.
"I always found it rather... pathetic. A grown man, spending his entire life fetching and carrying for a woman who treats him like furniture."
His lips curled into a mocking smile.
"Tell me, does Lady Sylvia still make you taste her food before she eats? I always found that habit of hers so... quaint. As if anyone would bother poisoning someone so irrelevant."
A cold, sudden anger stirred in Revan's chest. It was a strange, unwelcome sensation—not for himself, but for Sylvia.
Hearing that snake speak her name with such casual disrespect sparked a protective fury he didn't even know he possessed.
But outwardly, Revan's expression remained perfectly neutral.
"My Lady has many habits that lesser minds might find difficult to understand," he replied calmly.
"Caution in our world isn't paranoia—it's survival. I'm certain Lord Ravencrest, with his renowned intellect, grasps this better than anyone."
A subtle jab.
Powerful nobles attracted assassins like flies—it was a reality of their world. As an influential nobleman himself, Cedric should have understood that better than anyone.
Cedric's smile tightened almost imperceptibly.
"Careful, dog. Your leash only stretches so far."
"And yet here I am, Lord Ravencrest. Still standing."
The air between them crackled with unspoken tension.
Cedric was taller. Stronger. Born into one of the most powerful families in the kingdom. By every metric of this world, he should have been able to crush Revan like a bug beneath his boot.
But Revan didn't flinch. Didn't back down. Didn't lower his gaze.
Because he had faced a Master-rank warrior and survived. He had walked through death's door and crawled back out. He had been broken, healed, broken again, and was still standing.
Compared to all that, one arrogant noble's displeasure was nothing.
'You're not the scariest thing I've faced this month, Cedric. You're not even in the top five.'
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
Then, unexpectedly, Cedric laughed.
It was a soft sound—cultured, controlled, utterly devoid of genuine amusement.
"Interesting. Very interesting."
He stepped back, raising his hands in a gesture of mock surrender.
"You've grown bold over the years, Revan. I wonder... is it confidence? Or the desperation of a man who knows his place is hanging by a thread?"
"Perhaps both, Lord Ravencrest. Life is rarely simple."
"No. No, it isn't."
Cedric's eyes flickered past Revan to Elara, who had remained frozen behind them throughout the entire exchange.
"I wouldn't want to interfere with Lady Elara's important work. We can continue our discussion another time."
He turned to leave, his footsteps echoing against the stone floor.
But at the threshold of the iron gate, he paused.
"Oh, and Revan?"
His voice carried that familiar poisonous sweetness.
"Do give my regards to Lady Sylvia. I'll be visiting her soon. After all..."
He glanced back over his shoulder, his smile sharp as a blade.
"...a fiancé should spend time with his betrothed, shouldn't he? Though she can be so terribly difficult. Cold as ice, that one. Barely human, some might say."
A soft, mocking chuckle.
"Perhaps that's why she prefers the company of dogs. At least they're warm-blooded."
Then he was gone.
His footsteps faded into the distance, swallowed by the labyrinthine corridors of the library.
***
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Revan didn't move immediately. He stood there, staring at the empty doorway, his mind racing through the implications of what had just happened.
Behind him, Elara finally exhaled—a shaky, trembling breath that sounded almost like a sob.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"I... I didn't know what to do. He's been like this for months. Showing up wherever I go. Sending gifts. Making it impossible to refuse without causing a scandal."
Revan turned to face her.
The confident academic who had lectured him about curses was gone. In her place stood a frightened girl, small and vulnerable, her green eyes glistening with unshed tears.
"How often does he approach you?" Revan asked quietly.
"At least once a week. Sometimes more."
Her hands trembled as she straightened the books on her desk—a nervous habit, something to keep her fingers busy.
"At first, I thought he was just being friendly. We're both from noble families. Our fathers know each other. It seemed... normal."
She laughed bitterly.
"But then the gifts started. Expensive jewelry. Rare books. Things I never asked for and couldn't refuse without insulting his family."
"Did you tell anyone?"
"Who would I tell?"
Her voice cracked.
"My father is busy with his research. The academy staff wouldn't dare interfere with a Ravencrest. And Lord Cedric is engaged to Lady Sylvia. If I complain, people will think I'm the one causing problems. The commoner's daughter trying to steal another woman's fiancé."
'She's trapped. Completely trapped.'
'And Cedric knows it. That's why he's so confident.'
Revan was silent for a moment, processing everything.
Then he spoke.
"Lady Elara. I can't promise anything concrete right now. My position is... complicated. But I want you to know—you're not alone in this."
She looked up at him, surprise flickering across her tear-streaked face.
"If Cedric approaches you again, find me. Send a message. I'll figure something out."
"But why? You're Lady Sylvia's servant. Why would you help me?"
'Because your curse and Sylvia's curse are connected. Because both of you are "Generation of Miracles" carrying time bombs in your souls. Because if I don't find a way to stabilize both of you, this entire world goes to hell.'
'And because...'
'Because no one deserves to be hunted like prey.'
But he couldn't say any of that.
Instead, he offered a thin smile.
"Let's just say I have a personal dislike for men who mistake women for collectibles."
Elara stared at him for a long moment.
Then, slowly, a fragile smile appeared on her face.
"You're a strange person, Revan von Alstaire."
"I've been told."
He gathered the books he had been carrying and set them on her desk.
"I should go. My original errand won't complete itself."
"Oh! Right, you were going somewhere before I... I'm sorry for taking so much of your time—"
"Don't apologize. This was... informative."
He turned toward the exit.
"Lady Elara. Your research on curses. Keep at it. And if you find anything—anything at all—that might help contain or reverse the effects..."
"I'll tell you immediately," she promised.
"Good."
He paused at the threshold.
"And please. Be careful."
Then he left the Restricted Section behind.