Simon headed to Madame Celavan's to have his injuries treated. Luckily, his chestplate had taken the brunt of Vancy's hammer, shielding his body from serious internal damage. Aside from some scrapes and bruises from his tumble down the hill, he was physically intact, though the sheer exhaustion of the day was finally catching up to him.
"You okay? You look completely drained," Jack asked, walking beside him. Simon forced a smile and nodded.
"I'm fine. Just really tired."
"Understandable. You were moving non-stop out there," Jack agreed.
"Once we're back at the dorm, I'll give our champion a massage!" Kai piped up from the other side. His voice, however, was a raspy mess—a direct result of screaming his lungs out during the match.
"Kai... your voice..." Simon muttered.
"Don't worry... I just shouted too much. Hehe," Kai replied, his laugh sounding like sandpaper.
Simon sighed, shaking his head in amusement. Jack crossed his arms and scoffed.
"You're lucky you didn't burst a lung. My ears are still ringing from your constant yelling." Kai pouted, attempting a retort, but with his voice gone, he could only huff in silent protest.
When they returned to the dorms, they skipped their rooms and headed straight for the Common Room. Since Fyrnic had secured the title of Exigros Champions this year, a massive victory party was already in full swing. Lucas had made it very clear—repeatedly—that every student was expected to show up, so they had no choice but to join in.
As soon as the elevator doors slid open at the Common Room floor, they were greeted by the booming rhythm of loud music. The balcony-like Common Room was packed with students, each holding a cup in their hand.
Vukasin, spotting them immediately, called out to the crowd, "Our champion has returned!"
Instantly, the room erupted into cheers and applause. Simon, caught in the spotlight of everyone's attention, could only duck his head, blushing furiously as he basked in the warmth of their welcome.
Kai strutted beside Simon, chest out and chin high as if the victory were his own, while Simon remained tucked away, his head ducked in shy embarrassment. When Lucas offered them drinks, the three of them accepted and took a long, refreshing swallow. Finding it delicious, Kai downed his in one go and immediately asked for seconds. The party roared on with laughter and music, but Simon chose the quiet of a sofa next to Jack.
Soon, Dean joined them, sinking into the seat beside Simon.
"What did the Madame say?"
"Oh... she said it's not too serious. Just some minor injuries," Simon replied softly.
"Thank goodness for that," Dean said, exhaling in relief. He then looked Simon in the eye.
"You know, when Edward knocked that sword out of your hand, you were completely unarmed. If you had just used the dagger I gave you... you could have won without cutting up your palm."
Simon looked down at his bandaged hand, then back at Dean. "I... I didn't want to risk damaging the gift you gave me. It's valuable to me."
A flicker of emotion crossed Dean's face at those words, subtle but present. He smiled warmly and ruffled Simon's hair. "Is that so? Well, I think you'll need it eventually. Keep it close to you from now on."
Simon nodded with a smile, while Jack sat quietly by their side, sipping his drink and absorbing every word of their conversation.
After Dean left to join his friends, Jack turned to Simon with a serious expression.
"Simon, during the game... did that chest pain ever come back?"
Simon paused to reflect on the intensity of the match. He had felt plenty of pain from the falls and the blows, but that specific, mysterious ache was absent. He shook his head.
"No. I think it's finally gone."
"Uhm... I see," Jack murmured. He took a slow, thoughtful sip of his drink, his mind clearly still troubled by something he wasn't quite ready to voice.
When the student in charge of the music switched to "Timber," a hit song from the Ordinary World, the energy in the room shifted instantly. Those familiar with the track cheered, while others, caught up in the vibe, started to move instinctively. Students gathered in the center, and Kai, slamming his cup onto a table, dove headfirst into the crowd with his eclectic dance moves.
Simon clapped along, laughing, while Jack crossed his arms and shook his head at Kai, who was wriggling around like a worm sprinkled with salt. Not content with dancing alone, Kai rushed over and dragged both of them into the circle. Despite Jack's firm protests, they were pulled into the thick of it.
Simon was shy at first, but seeing everyone so carefree, he finally let loose and joined in. Jack, however, remained stubborn, arms crossed and head down, shaking his head at the frantic Kai in front of him. But when Kai grabbed Jack's hands and forced him into a back-and-forth rhythm, even Jack had to start moving.
Under the brilliant silvery moonlight, the students' movements expressed a sense of freedom, youth, and pure joy. Simon knew, without a doubt, that he would never forget this day.
A short while later, Simon stood alone on the balcony, his arms crossed over the railing as he gazed up at the vast, starlit sky. The party had finally settled into a peaceful hum as many students had headed off to bed. Kai, exhausted from his energetic dancing, was already fast asleep in their room. Jack, ever the responsible one, had stayed behind to help Lucas and the other seniors tidy up the Common Room, knowing they'd face the Masters' wrath if the place was a mess in the morning.
Simon had offered to help, but Lucas insisted that their champion deserved a proper rest and refused to let him lift a finger. After a while, Jack finished up and headed back to the room, leaving Simon out on the balcony with only a handful of other lingering students, soaking in the quiet night air.
Vukasin approached with a drink in hand, offering it to Simon. Simon declined with a small joke, saying his stomach was already full and he didn't want to spend the rest of the night running to the restroom. Vukasin let out a rare, genuine smile. Together, they leaned against the railing, gazing out at the dark forest cloaked by a starlit sky and the brilliant glow of the full moon.
"You know..." Vukasin began quietly, "at this exact time last year, Malthen won. I sat right here, all night, by myself. I made a vow then that I would definitely crush them next year."
Simon listened in silence as Vukasin continued.
"I hated being told that this game didn't belong to me just because I'm a New Blood. That's why I swore I'd win, no matter what."
He paused and looked at Simon with a soften expression. "And now... we've won. I'm grateful to you, Simon. And to my team. They stayed by me and worked so hard, even though they had such a bad Captain."
Simon looked back at him and replied steadily, "You're not bad, Captain. Maybe you're a bit blunt, cold, and a little scary sometimes... but you aren't a bad Captain. If you were truly a bad person, no one would be standing by your side. Who would want to stay with someone like that?"
Vukasin stared at Simon, seemingly touched by the boy's simple yet profound honesty. Finally, he smiled and reached out, ruffling Simon's messy black curls with a gentle hand.
"You're different, you know?"
"Huh?" Simon blinked, caught off guard.
"You are not your father. I can say that for certain," Vukasin stated firmly, his gaze steady under the moonlight. "Most people say you're the spitting image of him... but I can see how different you truly are."
Simon fell into a profound silence. For so long, the world had defined him only by his father's shadow, but here was Vukasin—the person he respected most stripping away that label and seeing him for who he really was. A slow, grateful smile spread across Simon's face as he looked up at his Captain.
Simon returned to his room, greeted only by the silence and the steady, rhythmic breathing of his sleeping roommates. The room was bathed in shadows, illuminated only by the soft glow of the moon streaming through the window. Before heading to bed, Simon sat down at his desk. He opened the drawer, which held both a notebook and the fountain pen Henry had given him. He pulled out the notebook and retrieved a photograph hidden between its pages—a picture of his father. The resemblance was striking, like looking into a mirror of the past.
Simon gazed at the image and whispered softly, "I'll keep proving... that I will never become you."
He turned the photo over, his eyes lingering on the name of the woman he believed to be his mother. He traced the letters gently with his thumb.
"I'm still not sure if you're really my mother... but I wish you were here. I want to write to you and tell you about my victory today. If you were here, would you be taking my picture? Would you be proud of me?"
Simon lingered on the name on the photograph for a moment longer before tucking it safely back between the pages of his notebook. He opened the book and began to write, pouring out his heart as if he were sending a real letter to his mother. Choosing his familiar quill over the modern fountain pen Henry had gifted him, he started to compose his thoughts.
This notebook was his sanctuary—a place for the letters he could never send and the emotions he could never voice. In the hushed stillness of the room, punctuated only by the rhythmic breathing of his sleeping roommates, the gentle scratch-scratch of his quill filled the air. Outside, the world belonged to the nocturnal creatures and their haunting cries, but inside, Simon was lost in his own world of ink and longing.
With the Exigros games behind them, the atmosphere of the academy shifted with dizzying speed toward the final exams of the academic year. The echoes of cheers were replaced by the frantic rustling of pages and hushed recitations. Students could be found huddled over books in the library, common rooms, and every available corner of the campus.
In the Dinner Hall, Kai, Jack, Simon, Finn, and Toad sat together, buried under a mountain of study materials. Lucas stopped by, dropping off a can of juice for each of them.
"Keep it up, freshmen! Fyrnic has to have the highest scores among the first years, understood?"
"Yes, sir!" Jack answered enthusiastically, while the other four merely nodded in weary agreement. Once Lucas was out of earshot, Kai groaned and slumped over the table.
"I'm doomed. I don't get any of this... Jack, save me!"
"You can't go looking for a toilet only when your stomach starts hurting, Kai,"
Jack replied without looking up, his focus entirely on the math problems he was solving.
"Didn't I tell you to start studying weeks ago?"
Kai leaned back against his chair with a miserable sigh, grumbling under his breath about the cruelty of academics.
Kai was about to gossip about Jack, but the words died in his throat the moment he looked at Simon. Simon was deathly pale. One hand gripped his chest tightly while the other, still holding his quill, trembled uncontrollably over his notebook. His breathing was heavy and labored.
"Simon, are you okay?" Kai asked, his voice laced with panic. At his call, Toad, Jack, and Finn all snapped their attention toward Simon. Simon didn't answer immediately; he sat with his mouth open, gasping for air before finally looking up at Kai.
"My chest... it's not a sharp jab like before. It's... a constant, twisting ache inside. It feels like something is falling apart," he whispered shakily.
Kai glanced at Jack in alarm. Jack's expression shifted from focus to immediate concern as he looked at Simon. "Simon, you need to go to Madame Celavan. Right now."
Simon shook his head as the pain began to recede slowly. "I'm fine now. I'll go...later."
"Illness isn't something you can just keep around like a pet, Simon. It's better to go now. You're as white as a sheet of paper," Jack said, his brow furrowed in a stern, no-nonsense tone.
"I'm fine, Jack. Really, I am."
Jack frowned as he looked at Simon's forced smile. His worst fear was beginning to take shape. The ancient magic he had once suspected—the kind that eats away at a person's heart like a slow, dark rotbwas undeniably manifesting within Simon.
Jack caught Kai's eye, and Kai looked back with a sudden, sharp understanding.
"In that case... why don't you go rest?" Finn suggested gently. "You look completely exhausted."
Simon took the advice, steadying himself as he rose from his chair. Kai quickly gathered his own books, preparing to escort Simon back. Before they left, Kai shot a lingering glance at Jack, who offered a small, solemn nod in return.
Late into the night, while the others were lost in deep sleep, Jack slipped out of bed and crept toward Simon's desk. He searched through the drawers with practiced silence but found nothing. He then moved to the wardrobe, carefully sifting through the belongings until he finally found it: the Dagger—the Christmas gift Dean had given to Simon. Jack wrapped the weapon in a cloth, careful not to touch it with his bare hands, and hid it securely back at his bed.
The following morning, as everyone else headed to the Dining Hall for breakfast, Jack made a dash for the Academy's post office. Clutched in his hand were the cloth-wrapped dagger and a sealed letter. He requested an urgent delivery, and the postmaster immediately dispatched a carrier pigeon to transport the package to its destination.
By evening, after Simon had showered and started to dress, he realized his Dagger was missing. He began a frantic search. Jack, seemingly absorbed in his studies at his desk, noticed Simon's agitation.
"Simon," Jack called out.
"Yeah?" Simon replied without looking back, still searching.
"How's your chest feeling?"
Simon paused for a moment to check his own condition. "It's good. It was hurting quite a bit until last night, but this morning, it feels much better. No pain at all. I think it's finally passed."
"That's good," Jack remarked simply. Simon continued looking for the dagger, but when he couldn't find it anywhere, he simply muttered to himself about its disappearance. Convincing himself he had just misplaced it or put it too deep in storage, he finished getting dressed and sat down at his desk to focus on his upcoming exams.
The next morning, everyone headed to their exam halls. However, before Jack could enter his room, the carrier pigeon returned, delivering the reply along with the dagger. Jack quickly diverted to the boys' restroom and ducked into a stall to read the letter. He had written to his grandfather to ask if the dagger truly harbored the ancient rot-magic he suspected, and his grandfather's response confirmed it. The letter urgently advised him to inform the Headmistress or the Masters immediately.
Jack shoved the letter into his pocket, gripped the cloth-wrapped dagger tightly, and stepped out of the stall. At that exact moment, he ran straight into Dean, who was just walking in.
Dean looked at Jack with a look of surprise.
"Thistledown? What are you doing here? Isn't the first-year exam about to start?"
As he spoke, his gaze drifted toward the cloth-wrapped object in Jack's hand. Jack immediately hid it behind his back. He still didn't trust Dean; it was possible Dean had intentionally targeted Simon, or perhaps he was genuinely unaware of the magic within the dagger. In this moment of uncertainty, Jack remained tight-lipped.
"I'm just heading out now... I have this habit, you see. My stomach always feels a bit unsettled right before an exam starts."
"Ah... I see," Dean replied, nodding casually with a smooth, calm tone.
Dean stared intently at Jack's hand hidden behind his back.
"By the way... what are you hiding?"
"Um... it's nothing," Jack replied, struggling to keep his voice steady.
"Is it really? Then why are you hiding your hand so desperately?" Dean pressed. Jack was at a loss for words.
"Um... it's... it's just my handkerchief..."
"Hmm... is that so?" Dean muttered, taking a step forward. Jack instinctively stepped back. He glanced toward the exit door behind Dean, only to realize with a jolt of terror that it was locked. Dean had trapped him.
"I... I should really go. The exam is starting soon..."
Jack didn't even wait for a response. He tried to bolt past Dean, but Dean was faster. He lunged forward, grabbed Jack's arm with bruising force, and slammed him against the wall.
"Ughh..." Jack gasped as the impact rattled his spine. He fell down on his feet. He pinned against the wall, his gaze locked onto Dean. Dean reached down, picking up the dagger that had slipped from its cloth wrapping and clattered onto the floor. He examined it briefly before looking down at Jack. His face, usually warm and kind, was now replaced by a chilling, predatory stillness. The scar on his forehead only added to the terrifying intensity of his expression.
"This is... the dagger I gave to Simon," he said softly before turning his eyes back to Jack. "So, you've figured it out. You really are quite clever."
Jack clenched his fists. Even though he knew the danger he was in, he needed the truth.
"Why... why would you do this? Simon trusted you with everything! He looked up to you like a real brother... how could you be this cruel to someone like him!? Why are you being so monstrous!?"
As Jack's shout echoed through the room, Dean's foot connected sharply with Jack's face. The force of the kick sent Jack's head snapping back against the wall, and the world went black. Jack collapsed to the floor, unconscious.
Dean looked down at the unconscious Jack, his expression devoid of any remorse.
"Sorry, kid... but when you poke your nose into things that don't concern you, this is what happens."
He toyed with the dagger for a moment before sliding it into his pocket. Now that Jack had uncovered his secret, Dean's original plan had to be scrapped. He needed something more drastic. A new, darker scheme began to take shape in his mind, and he moved to execute it without a second thought.