The moon hadn't faded when Adam woke up, its silver stream filtering through the curtains. Its light cascaded down his long hair as his eyelids fluttered open. For a moment, he hoped that Mathilde's foolishness and Isolde's curse were just figments of his imagination, a nightmare he would laugh off when sharing it with Quintella around a warm breakfast.

Yet, hope was fleeting. It always was...

The weight on his chest hadn't vanished. If anything, it felt more pronounced with Quintella nestled against it. The girl hugged him above his hips, smiling in her sleep. At least, none of it would affect her.

With a heavy sigh, he brushed her blonde hair and forced out a smile. "Time to wake up, Quintella."

She stirred at his gentle touch, then raised her sleepy face. Rubbing her eyes with one hand, she yawned. "Morning, big brother."

Her smile didn't fade. Instead, it broadened as her gaze drifted to his chest and jiggled. "I still hate it, but I can't deny it."

"Deny what?" Adam frowned, slightly uncomfortable.

"That I had the best sleep of my life, of course." Quintella grabbed his chest, fondling it to Adam's stupor. "Warm and soft. Definitely better than the rector's pillow!"

"How do you know?" Adam removed her hand from his chest, rolling his eyes, brow twitching. "Anyway, it feels weird, and you've got more important things to worry about—like your first training class with Teacher Grimhilde."

She squeezed her hand a few times, as if to remember the sensation. Wonder faded into solemness the next moment as she straightened her shirt and necktie. "Right." Her pink eyes blazed. "Hurry, big brother. We can't be late for our first class!"

She rushed to her luggage, retrieved a brush, and tidied her blonde hair as she asked. "What's your first class?"

"Dark arts and how to counter them with teacher Diane Nyx Virelda," Adam answered after checking his half-empty schedule. It started at ten. "You know what? I'll accompany you after breakfast since I have four hours to kill."

"Yeah!" Quintella raised her fists triumphantly. Without wasting a second, she bolted to the door, the tears and slumped shoulders from yesterday replaced by a grin and the echo of her determined steps against the dorm's corridor.

Adam followed her, chuckling. However, even if they both cast Isolde's curse at the back of their mind, the other students were not this lenient—not after Mathilde's treacherous help lost them a hundred points.

The few students who were leaving their rooms with hasty steps paused to glare at him. Snorts, sneers, and whispered insults about how he was a fool for breaking the dorm rules reached him. Some called him a filthy-minded lecher. Others patted their uniforms, as if to clean them from something invisible, while they said that his gaze lingered like a bad smell.

Feeling Quintella squeeze his hand a little too hard, Adam simply shrugged and comforted her. Their opinion didn't matter—not when points motivated them. Soon enough, they would nod at him and clap at his passage.

Among the frustrated girls, however, one stepped toward them. She had been leaning against the wall by their rooms, with dark circles under her eyes and fingers worried at a fresh scratch on her wrist—the kind made by nervous nails. "Good morning," she said, eyes darting to the side, voice trembling. "I-I'm sorry for Mathilde's stunt. I didn't know she would... A-are you alright?"

Adam glanced at the black-haired girl with a raised brow as she twisted her lip in genuine worry and rubbed her eyes.

"Can't say I'm enjoying this, but I'll manage until the curse fades tonight." He cracked his neck, still not used to his body's new balance. "Thank you for asking, Sarah. I'm not blaming you, but yeah, we'd rather stay far from Mathilde and her delusions about helping."

Quintella's gaze turned suspicious. Clearly, she wouldn't trust new friends before they proved themselves. Still, she eventually nodded. "You could have told us about her... special view on friendship."

Sarah's eyes instantly brightened, and a relieved sigh, heavy with unspoken thoughts, left her curving lips.

However, before she could answer, Adam cut her off. "I've let this one slide, but the next time someone messes with me?" Each word was pronounced like an immutable truth, his lips curved like a knife, and the threat echoing through the girl's floor, aimed both at Sarah and the other students. "Let's say they'll regret their peaceful nights until next year."

It only garnered him more scornful glances from the passing students, but he merely stepped toward the stairs. "For now, let's have breakfast. By the way, do you also attend Grimhilde's class this morning?"

Sarah walked beside him and Quintella, nodding as they began to make their way out of the dorm. "I have an hour before my Necromancy class." She caught Adam's narrowing eyes as the rising sun's rays brightened the campus, then added with a forced chuckle. "Necromancy is not as distasteful as people usually believe. At least, not when Marcellus Noct Virein is the teacher."

A thoughtful frown creased Adam's brow. Raising the dead from their slumber as puppets was something he had always found disrespectful. An opinion shared even by the lying bastard, Gaston, who'd hex a newborn but still called necromancy a disgusting art.

Noticing the silence stretched a little too long, Sarah continued. "We don't raise mindless piles of bones or rotten flesh. Instead, we try to awaken ancient warriors with their egos intact. It might sound weird, but many of our ancestors still want to defend their homeland beyond the grave. It's a partnership in which we let them sleep most of the time. Of course, this method has its drawbacks. Since they awaken with their skills and knowledge, they put a heavier strain on our magic circuits."

She raised a finger, her voice turning eager as she explained her favorite class. "Most students only manage to awaken one arcanist, two if they're geniuses. Even Teacher Marcellus Noct Virein only has ten magi under him, and they have all agreed to answer his call willingly if Brineheart falls under threat."

Adam halted in front of the common hall, his fingers finding his chin. If it was a consensual agreement... He pursed his lips. Who was Sarah kidding? These were the rules inside the campus. Outside? These caring necromancers would surely not be so caring anymore. Even that teacher—he doubted ten magi would have willingly agreed to serve him after death when only the rector surpassed them in power. Protecting their homeland beyond the grave? Not enough. He didn't just suspect it. He was sure they enslaved the dead and just called it a fancy name.

But that wasn't important right now—certainly not compared to Quintella's burning gaze as she smelled sweet pastries, bitter coffee, and bread fresh from the oven.

When he entered the hall, every student at the table of the House of exorcism glared at him.