The moment I'd been dreading had finally come.
There was no getting out of this.
I tried to stay calm—but inside, everything was coming apart. Thoughts crashing into each other, panic clawing its way up. I still clung to the idea that the academy would protect me… but what if something like this had never happened before?
"Alan…" Alma murmured, her voice tight as she took my hand.
"It's fine," I forced out, squeezing her fingers. The smile didn't feel real.
I stepped forward toward the director and her deputy.
Theodore was already there. Miror. Andrew.
Clyde moved in behind me.
Too many people.
Too many eyes.
"Gentlemen, there's no need for a crowd," Rigor said.
"Andrew Storik and I are now officially his personal instructors," Stella said sharply. "Anything concerning my student concerns me as well."
"And I would like to ensure the fairness of the accusation made by elite student Holivan," Clyde added, calm as ever. "Today, I marked the younger Holivan as the object of my favor. Any shadow cast on him reflects on me."
"Well," Gordinstreet spread her hands slightly, "that's difficult to argue with. Follow me."
Not upstairs.
Right turn.
Down.
The air changed the moment we hit the lower level.
I'd never been here. It wasn't even on the maps.
"This floor's for hunters," Andrew murmured close to my ear.
"Hunting what?"
"We're not just teachers. We're also defenders. We handle assignments—contracts, mostly. Or monsters."
"…Right."
"I'll explain later."
"It seems you and Holivan are quite close, Teacher Storik," Clyde said, falling into step beside us.
"He's my student. Teaching him is my job."
"And yet, as far as I know, your responsibility is limited to physical training."
Andrew's expression tightened slightly. "Mr. Silius, what exactly are you implying?"
"Nothing. Curiosity. I've marked him—it's only natural I'd want to understand him better."
"You might have wanted to understand him before putting him in that position."
The air between them crackled.
Calm voices.
Sharp edges underneath.
Didn't matter.
None of it mattered.
In a few minutes, I might not have anything left to worry about.
"Dr. Skrink, may we come in?" the director knocked.
"Come in. I've been expecting you."
The room was large.
Too white.
Walls. Furniture. Light.
It hurt to look at.
"Mr. Holivan," the elderly man said, smiling warmly. "So we finally meet."
Kind face.
Gentle voice.
And for some reason—that made it worse.
This was the man who was about to decide everything.
"I'm sorry if this sounds rude, but I don't remember you. I just—"
"No, my boy," he smiled, and something in me loosened without permission. "That has nothing to do with your memory loss. An old friend of mine—your family's physician—once asked me to try to treat you before your… disappearance. But we never met."
Of course.
Small world.
Didn't matter.
Nothing did.
Somewhere deep in my head, something was knocking.
Warning.
Faint.
Too faint.
"Please, sit wherever you can," he gestured.
Not enough chairs.
The director and Theodore took the couch.
Clyde sat near the desk.
Stella perched on the armrest.
Andrew and Pavel stayed standing.
And me—
Right in the middle.
Surrounded.
Watching.
Waiting.
He stepped closer.
Stopped just within reach.
"Don't worry, Alan. It won't hurt."
And just like that—
The last of the tension slipped.
Too fast.
Wrong.
"My name is Arnold Skrink. May I examine you?"
I nodded.
Didn't even think.
Why was I so scared before?
He stepped closer.
One hand on the back of my head.
The other over my chest.
Warmth.
Instant.
Spreading.
Too fast.
Something flickered at the edge of my vision—light.
I let my eyes close.
Couldn't stop it.
Something stirred inside my head.
Not memories.
Echoes.
The moment I woke up in the Holivan estate—
Fear.
Panic.
Distrust.
Sharp. Raw.
Then—
Gone.
All of it.
White.
Nothing but white.
Endless.
I was falling.
No—
floating.
No—
drowning.
No—
rising again.
There was nothing there.
Nothing at all.
I opened my eyes.
Still white.
A haze.
Reality felt distant.
Out of reach.
It didn't matter.
Nothing mattered.
I felt—
calm.
Safe.
Wrong.
Something's wrong.
I don't know how long I stood there.
Time didn't feel real.
Then—
the light dimmed.
Darkness behind my eyelids.
I opened my eyes.
The doctor stood in front of me.
Not touching me anymore.
"How do you feel, Alan?"
And it all came crashing back.
Everything.
My eyes snapped open.
Horror.
I stumbled back.
Shit—
How did I forget?!
"I'm… fine," I forced out, my voice rough. "Just… thirsty."
He stepped away, poured water, handed it to me.
I drank—
too fast.
Coughed.
Choked.
He patted my back lightly.
"Don't worry. It's already over."
Over?
Did you see it?
Did you see me?
Do they know?
I looked around.
Everyone was watching.
Waiting.
For him.
"Well then, Lady Gordinstreet…"
I shut my eyes.
Don't—
"As for Alan Holivan's mental state—it is unsettled, which is entirely expected given his condition."
"So he is unstable?" Theodore's voice—almost hopeful.
I forced my eyes open.
Watched the doctor.
"Mr. Holivan, your brother is unsettled due to memory loss—which I cannot restore." He shook his head. "No matter how I try to reach it… I'm sorry."
"Doctor Skrink," Andrew cut in, tension in his voice, "is first-year Alan Holivan of sound mind and responsible for his actions?"
A pause.
"Yes."
Calm.
Certain.
"Alan is completely sane."
Silence.
Then—
a shift in his tone.
Fascination.
"Remarkable… I've never seen anything like it. It's as if the memory loss erased his previous personality entirely. What remains now is someone completely stable—"
A slight pause.
"—and far more resolute than before."