Clyde had already sent me a third annoyed message while I sprinted toward the city exit on my last scraps of strength.
He'd been waiting four minutes. Four.
Not my fault my spare clothes had vanished from the locker room again, forcing me to run all the way back to my room wrapped in nothing but a towel.
On Sundays, the dorm supervisor didn't work, so I couldn't even delay getting another set of clothes. The elderly woman gave me a long, disapproving look.
"Holivan, if anyone ever hires you as a personal bodyguard, they'll go broke just replacing your wardrobe. What do you do—eat your clothes?"
"I'm sorry… it just happened," I muttered, already thinking where I could stash my clothes before showering next time so I wouldn't have to stand here again, red-faced in front of her. Maybe I should just start going to the showers in a towel from the start.
This whole mess with clothes was exactly why I kept getting delayed. Even in the academy—just like in real life—the worst headache was still paperwork.
"You're late," Clyde said darkly.
"Stuff came up."
"What kind?"
"Doesn't matter. We going or what?"
"Why are you wearing your uniform jacket? You're allowed to wear personal clothes in the city."
"Because I ran away from home on a summer evening and didn't exactly pack for winter," I snapped. "If my looks bother you, even better. I'll just walk around on my own."
"You're not walking around alone."
"Because of mercenaries? Andrew said things have been quiet lately."
"Not because of that. You attract too much attention," he said with a frown. "The academy's rules don't apply in the city."
I went quiet. He was right. Stick close to someone like Silus, and no one would even think about getting near.
"So where did you go last time—with that… Volkin?"
"Hm? Doubt you'd like those places."
"If I'm asking, then I'm interested," Clyde said sharply, raising an eyebrow.
"Nothing special. Walked around shops, grabbed burgers, went to a movie, ran from mercenaries, tried to save our asses."
"The last part doesn't sound appealing," he said dryly. "But shops, food, and a movie—acceptable. We'll start with the shops."
He pointed toward a row of expensive boutiques.
"Right now I'm a broke special-class student," I said. "The money I make from odd jobs wouldn't even cover a handkerchief there. We're going this way."
I nodded toward the crowded budget stores.
"I could reward you with a new jacket," Clyde sighed.
"Perfect. Then we'll buy one there," I said, pointing at a shop with a bright sign: 'Down Jackets at Low Prices.'
He followed reluctantly. It was obvious he wasn't used to pushing through crowds, digging through racks, hunting for sizes—but he endured it.
For about five minutes.
"No. This is torture. Either we go to another store, or I'll drag you there myself."
"Usually 'either' implies I get a choice."
"You got one."
…Well, why not. A branded jacket could always be resold later for decent money.
We finished quickly. Clyde immediately made me put on the new jacket and had the clerk pack up the old one.
"No way!" a bright female voice rang out.
We both turned. A blonde woman in high heels and a short sable coat hurried toward us. Clyde's expression darkened instantly.
"What are you doing here, Erika?"
"So cold," she pouted. "We haven't seen each other in ages, and you won't even hug your fiancée?"
Fiancée?
I glanced between them. They looked like they belonged together—tall, polished, good-looking. Like they'd stepped off a magazine cover.
"You know I study at a closed academy. I don't have time to be distracted by… outside matters."
"I'm your fiancée, not an 'outside matter'! And who would've thought I'd run into you here?" she said, a hint of hurt slipping into her voice. "I didn't even believe it at first—but here you are… just strolling around."
"And who told you that?"
"I was talking to Kristina yesterday. It slipped out when I complained you barely answer your calls."
"Kristina…" he muttered, shooting me a brief look.
Erika followed his gaze—and seemed to notice me for the first time.
"And this is…?"
"Good evening, ma'am. Alan. Special-class student. I'm assigned to accompany Mr. Silus today."
Clyde frowned again—a thin crease forming between his brows, like he didn't like the way I'd put that. Maybe she didn't know how things worked at the academy.
"Oh, he's adorable," she smiled, like she was looking at a puppy.
She reached out—and for a second I thought she was actually going to pat me on the head.
Clyde caught her wrist mid-motion.
"That's rude, Erika."
"But Clyde, he's a special, isn't he? Why can't I show him a little affection? You're too serious," she waved him off and turned back to me.
"So—you're joining us for dinner? You remind me of someone…" she frowned slightly, then waved it away. "Eh, doesn't matter."
"I—"
"We have business. We're not joining you."
"Oh, stop it. Kristina told me you're free tonight," she cut in. "Besides, I want to talk to… Alan, right?"
I nodded.
"Right. Come on, let's go," she hooked her arm through Clyde's and started dragging him toward the exit.
I followed after them, already regretting everything.
"So tell me, Alan," she called over her shoulder, "has anyone bought you yet?"
"They're not bought. They're hired," Clyde corrected flatly.
"Same thing," she said dismissively, looking at me expectantly.
"No, ma'am. I'm only a first-year. I'm not strong enough yet."
"Well, if my future husband took an interest in you, you can't be completely useless."
I never said I was useless.
Jesus, she's already pissing me off.
Are they all like this?
Judging by her age, she should still be studying—but if she's not at the academy, then she didn't get in. And she's calling me useless?
I could feel the irritation boiling under my skin, even though we'd only exchanged a few sentences.
But outwardly, I acted exactly like a special assigned to an aristocrat should.
Silent.
And swallowing the anger.