Lucian pushed open the classroom door.
Morning light streamed through the tall windows. Too bright.
Like the world hadn't just gone to complete shit in one night.
His ribs were fine—fully healed, thanks to his shameless S-rank mentor. But everything else?
Everything else was a disaster.
*Seraphina has four years to live.*
*Aria's upset. Wants his time tomorrow.*
*Elira watching him like a territorial predator.*
*Someone trying to destroy his reputation.*
*And the original curse? Still a fucking mystery.*
He adjusted the strap of his bag—the heavy leather-bound book inside pressing against his side like a constant reminder of how little time they actually had.
The classroom was already half-full. Students chatting in small clusters. Professor Reeves hadn't arrived yet, which meant a few more minutes before class officially started.
Lucian's eyes swept the room.
Assessing. Cataloging. And stopped on crimson hair.
