CHAPTER 97: THE CULPRIT

{Rennon}

~**^**~

I paused. Every muscle in my body stilled, gears suddenly turning in my brain.

Only a handful of students and faculty had access to that room. The rune wouldn’t even let you in unless the card matched your aura.

Zenon, catching the same thought, turned toward Lennon. "You just narrowed the range of suspects."

Lennon grinned, all smug and sparkly-eyed. "So... that was helpful?"

"Very." I dropped my cutlery with a soft clatter and rose from my chair. I stepped around to give him a solid pat on the shoulder. "Thanks."

Lennon looked at me, half-pleased, half-suspicious. "Wait, that’s it? No explanation? You’re just going to thank me and vanish like some crime-solving ghost?"

Zenon watched me too, quiet, but expectant.

I grabbed my blazer from the coat stand where I had left it when I first set foot inside Zenon’s office today, and slipped one arm through.

"I realized I haven’t checked the archive door. Whoever got in must have used the access card and definitely touched the handle. The residue will be fresher than on the shelf. I might be able to trace it."

Lennon leaned forward. "You’re saying you will scan the lock for aura prints?"

I nodded. "If not many people have gone through since the theft, there should be something left. And like you said, not many people have the archive’s access."

"I will be back with answers," I said, half to myself.

Zenon gave a small nod of approval.

Lennon, ever the dramatist, spread his arms and groaned. "So, we are just supposed to sit here with no dessert, waiting for the Oracle to return?"

I smirked and glanced over my shoulder. "I won’t take long."

Then I slipped out the door, letting it shut quietly behind me. My steps were already speeding up.

---

The late afternoon corridors of ESA’s staff wing were quieter than usual—most students had retired to their dorms or found corners of the academy to lounge and chatter.

Still, as I passed through the corridor that led to the main archive wing, a few students paused mid-conversation, standing straighter, offering greetings.

"Good evening, Professor Rennon!"

"Professor—hope your class tomorrow isn’t a pop quiz!"

Their tones held the usual warmth and reverence students offered me—a mix of respect, admiration, and a little awe.

I offered them a small nod, letting my strides remain purposeful.

When I reached the Archive room door, I cast a brief glance over my shoulder to ensure no curious eyes lingered before I stepped forward.

Then I placed my palm gently on the enchanted brass handle. Cool. Buzzing. Anchored with layers of protective runes meant to deter unauthorized entry.

I let my fingers rest there, and I pushed my ability forward—not into the residue of the past. Energy echoed along the runes like footsteps on water, shallow but traceable.

Then I saw it—A faint shimmer of a hand reaching for the handle.

But it wasn’t Elira’s or mine or someone else’s.

The aura signature wasn’t on the current roster of authorized keepers. Not even on the backup registry I refreshed monthly.

Still, it wasn’t entirely unfamiliar either.

I drew in a breath.

Mint and rose oil... that was the scent her aura left behind. And I’d smelled it before—months ago, when she still worked in the Archive room before transferring out.

’You didn’t return your card,’ I thought grimly.

Of course.

She would have had both access and knowledge—enough to move around quietly, even delete footage. My jaw tensed.

I straightened slowly, my fingers leaving the door handle.

---

The Student Council wing buzzed lightly with activity—mostly typing, low conversation, and the faint smell of synthetic coffee.

My destination sat right behind the glossy desk, scrolling through her tablet like she didn’t have a care in the world.

The moment I stepped into view, her head snapped up—and the shift in her expression was immediate.

She scrambled to her feet so fast her chair scraped the floor.

"P-Professor Rennon!" she stammered, clutching the tablet to her chest. "Good evening, sir! How can I—uh—help you?"

I came to a stop in front of her desk, gaze locked with hers.

"I will ask once," I said, my voice low and steady. "Where is the 1988 ESA Yearbook?"

Her eyes blinked rapidly, the fake confusion rising to the surface like foam.

"I-I don’t know what you mean, sir—"

"Don’t insult my intelligence," I said sharply, but not unkindly.

She stiffened. Her pulse sped up. I could hear it.

"And hand over your access card," I added. "The one you never returned."

Her lips parted, then closed again. Finally, she opened her desk drawer with trembling fingers and placed the access card on the table between us.

I took it and pocketed it immediately without breaking eye contact.

"I... I was just doing a favour—" she started, her voice trailing off under the weight of my silence. "I didn’t mean to cause trouble. Regina needed it. She just asked me to get it for her. I didn’t know it was a big deal."

My eyes sharpened. "Regina Shaw?"

She swallowed. "Yes, sir."

I leaned one arm on the desk, gaze level. "So, you stole a restricted archive document for someone else?"

"I—I didn’t steal it for myself!" she rushed to explain, panic lacing her voice. "Regina said it was important. She didn’t tell me why, and I didn’t ask. Please don’t report me. I didn’t think it would matter."

’Didn’t think it would matter?’

I sighed, rubbing my brow briefly before straightening again.

"Listen carefully," I said coldly. "You will bring the yearbook to my office—first thing tomorrow, before your class. Understood?"

She nodded rapidly. "Yes, I will. Absolutely."

I let my tone cool even further. "And if you break Archive protocols again, don’t expect me to be this lenient."

She nodded again, eyes wide, face flushed with shame. "Thank you, Professor. I won’t—I promise."

I didn’t answer her apology. I didn’t need to.

She was lucky it was me standing here instead of Zenon—or worse, Lennon.