CHAPTER 91: INSTRUCTOR CONCERN. PERFECTLY PROFESSIONAL.

Belle Ardent

I stood at the front of the classroom, pointer in hand, the board behind me covered in neat diagrams of mana cores, energy flow channels, and fusion nodes.

My voice echoed clearly across the room as I explained the theory, "When two compatible affinities overlap in frequency, they create a resonant feedback loop, amplifying both effects..." but, honestly, I wasn’t listening to myself.

Because my eyes kept drifting.

To him.

All the way in the back corner, by the window, head buried in his arms, fast asleep.

Sebastian Nekros.

The boy who somehow managed to sleep through my lecture without a care in the world.

I should’ve been angry. Or at least mildly irritated. But instead, I found myself... staring.

Why is he sleeping like that?

His breathing was even, calm, like he hadn’t been punched through a wall just a few hours ago. His hair was a little messy, black strands falling across his forehead, catching the light just right. He looked peaceful in a way that made my chest feel... odd.

I blinked, realizing I hadn’t spoken for a full three seconds. The class was still looking at me expectantly.

"—and as I was saying," I recovered quickly, tapping the board, "fusion between opposing elements requires precise control. If the synchronization wavers, the backlash can be catastrophic."

A few students nodded seriously. I probably sounded like I knew exactly what I was talking about. I did. But my brain was miles away.

Focus, Belle. Mana theory. You’re teaching mana theory. Not... him.

I tried to focus on the diagrams again, but my gaze slipped back toward the window seat before I even realized it.

He shifted a little in his sleep, his head tilting slightly to the side, a faint frown crossing his face before smoothing out again.

He looks so... tired.

The thought came unbidden, soft, almost guilty. Was it because of last night?

I remembered it too vividly: the tremor in his voice, the rawness in his eyes, the way he’d fallen apart and tried so hard to hold himself together again.

Maybe I’m just worried, I told myself, gripping the pointer tighter. That’s all. Instructor concern. Perfectly professional.

But that didn’t feel right.

I’d been protective of him from the beginning, ever since our first meeting; it was something instinctual. Something about him had always tugged at me. I told myself it was because he reminded me of... well, of someone I’d once known. But this? This was different.

I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Not his skill. Not his progress. Him.

The way he spoke, the way he looked when he smiled, crooked one that showed up when he was about to say something clever and irritating.

Gods, what is wrong with me?

I shook my head slightly, realizing I’d trailed off again mid-sentence. A few students in the front row exchanged glances, probably assuming I was trying to make them think. Good. Let them think that.

"Now then," I said briskly, picking up the pace, "energy fusion can also apply in multi-core entities, though that’s far beyond your current level."

I kept talking. The words came automatically, refined from months of teaching, but none of them really registered.

Because my thoughts kept looping back to him.

Why am I paying so much attention to him lately?

Was it because of the bond between us? That strange, intangible link formed from months of training together, living together, trusting each other?

No... no, that wasn’t it either.

I’d already felt protective of him before that bond deepened. I’d been drawn to him somehow, like a moth to flame, long before I understood why.

Maybe it was because he reminded me of myself. Or maybe because he was—

I stopped myself. My cheeks felt warm.

No. Don’t think that.

This was ridiculous. I was Belle Ardent. General. Vice Principal of Astralis. I was not supposed to get distracted in the middle of a lecture because a student, my student, had the audacity to take a nap.

And yet... here I was, talking about mana fusion while half my brain wondered whether he was comfortable, whether his neck would hurt when he woke up, and whether he’d the breakfast he had eaten was enough.

You’re hopeless, I told myself, pressing a hand to my temple. Absolutely hopeless.

I sighed quietly and turned back to the board, trying again to center my thoughts on the lesson.

"—so as the mana frequencies align," I continued automatically, "the core resonance stabilizes, allowing the fusion to—"

My eyes flicked toward the back of the room.

Still sleeping. Completely at ease.

I felt my lips twitch.

Maybe I’ll let him off the hook. Just this once.

I wasn’t sure whether to scold him later or quietly make sure he didn’t fall asleep on his arm wrong.

Either way... I couldn’t bring myself to wake him.

Not yet.

Not when he looked so peaceful.

Focus, Belle. Teaching. You’re teaching.

Right. Teaching.

Totally not watching the boy sleeping in the back row instead.

I was mid-sentence, something about elemental polarization and mana frequency ratios—when the sound tore through the room.

A scream.

Raw. Horrified.

It wasn’t the kind of sound you could mistake for anything else. It was pure agony grief, rage, terror—so sharp it made the air tremble.

Every student froze.

And my heart stopped.

The pointer slipped from my hand before I even realized it, clattering against the floor with a sharp crack.

I didn’t think. I didn’t need to think.

Space folded. The classroom blurred.

In less than a heartbeat, I was there, right in front of him.

Sebastian sat at his desk, his body trembling, eyes wide with something that didn’t belong in this world. His breath came in ragged gasps, sweat running down his temples. He looked like he’d just crawled out of a nightmare that had tried to drag him back in.

And gods, those eyes.

I knew his eyes were golden, but right now they were empty. Haunted.

He blinked once, his gaze meeting mine for the briefest moment. Recognition flickered there, faint and fragile, then vanished.

"Sebastian—" I started, but the word barely left my lips before his body went limp.

He slumped forward, head hitting his folded arms again. Out cold.

For a second, no one moved. The silence was deafening.

I just stood there, staring at him, the echo of that scream still ringing in my ears.

That sound... it wasn’t just pain. It was something deeper. Older.

Something I didn’t understand.

My hand hovered in the air, half-reaching toward him.

What did you see, Sebastian?

The class around us remained frozen, whisperless, waiting for me to speak. But I couldn’t find the words.

I just stood there, my pulse still racing, mana still humming violently beneath my skin, staring at the boy who terrified and worried me in equal measure.

And all I could think was—

Not again.