CHAPTER 248: CHAPTER 248

"It’s getting late, and I still need to wake up early too. Can I hang up now?" I asked after a few moments of silence, feeling unsure of what to say.

"W-Wait. I still have something to tell you," she said suddenly.

"It’s about my brother’s case. Whitney’s uncle told me about something," she added, her voice tense.

I froze. My mind raced—Angela was probably trying to find out the truth, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that she will definitely kill the culprit the moment she found out who it was.

There was a pause on the line. "You’re investigating Rafael’s death?" I asked carefully.

Matthew Owen.

Just by mentioning that name made me nervous. But I was certain of one thing: his Gift should have restrictions.

"No... Nevermind. I don’t want to talk about these things with you," she said, her voice firm but tinged with sadness.

"What? Why? Can’t you just tell me?" I pressed, frustration and concern mixing in my tone.

"No. This is my job—to avenge my brother’s death," she replied seriously, her tone reflecting a determined fire.

I smiled bitterly, a sense of guilt creeping in. What would her reaction be if I were the one who killed him?

Then she suddenly said eagerly, "Besides, the other reason I called you is because I want to know whether my brother told you anything."

"There is," I replied, my mind drifting back to all the stories Raphael had shared with me. "You wanted to choose a sword like him the moment you started walking and talking, but your grandfather insisted you train with a bow instead. That will be all for now—next time, again, Gela." With that, I hung up the call, the line going silent.

She tried calling me back right after, but I simply sent a text: "I’ll tell the stories Raphael told me if you’re feeling down and sad. Promise I won’t forget."

After that, I headed back home with Glacier and Macaron, the weight of the conversation still heavy on my mind, like a shadow that refused to fade. The night air was cool against my skin, but it did little to ease the turmoil inside.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

My remaining days at the Academy slipped by in a blur. Before I knew it, the month of May had arrived, the air thick with the scent of blooming flowers and impending farewells. During that time, I tried my hardest to distance myself from my friends, to create some space between them and forget me. But each time I found an excuse to slip away, they’d swoop in like a pack of wolves, kidnapping me for impromptu hangouts and shopping sprees that left me breathless.

When classes ended, instead of heading home early to rest or train, they’d grab each of my limbs and haul me straight to their dorms, with students staring at me in shock, shouting for help as I was carried off like some prized trophy.

At lunchtime, I’d bolt as far as I could, hiding on the rooftop to eat in peace, only for them to burst through the door a minute later, plopping down beside me, snatching bites of my lunch and chattering away.

Seriously, were they really that dense? Couldn’t they see I was trying to avoid them? In the end, my efforts to pull away proved futile. I surrendered to the inevitable, spending my days hanging out with them.

"Today, we are going to create something using magic," the instructor announced, snapping me out of my thoughts and drawing my gaze to the front of the room.

Today’s class was Omni-Magic Engineering. Fortunately, Edge and Cypher were in it with me, so I wasn’t left to fend for myself in this sea of unknown faces.

With a graceful snap of her fingers, a 30-pound block of gold floated effortlessly from the table and settled onto each table with a soft thud.

"Our lesson will be sculpting," she said with a warm smile. "Instead of using traditional tools, you’ll be creating your own using magic." She paused, letting the words sink in. "You’re free to make whatever you want. But don’t think of this as some frivolous art class. Dexterity plays a crucial role in the application and harmonization of magic power. So, do your best to create the most beautiful sculpture. You can take your results home and take your time—we have a full five-hour class ahead of us."

With that, the instructor left us to our own devices, the room buzzing with anticipation as students dove into their work. I cracked my knuckles and conjured a carving knife in my hand activating my Spectral Seal, the tool materializing with a half-transparent golden glow.

Staring down at it, I fell into deep thought. ’Who should I use as a model?’ My eyes scanned the room, landing on a handsome, popular boy who looked like he’d stepped out of a fashion magazine. With his dark brown hair, warm brown eyes, chiseled jawline, and striking features, he seemed like the perfect subject for sculpting.

’Alright, handsome guy, I choose you!’ I thought, a smirk tugging at my lips.

[Pfft! Hahahaha!] The system’s voice erupted in my head, laughing uncontrollably.

’What?’ I snapped, irritation flaring.

[Is that a Pokémon reference? Seriously? Hahaha!]

’Begone annoying system!’ I shook my head, trying to clear my mind of the annoying intrusion.

[Idiot, you can’t remove me! I’m stuck in your head like glue, ahahaha!]

Frustrated, I pushed the system’s mockery aside and focused on sculpting, sneaking secret glances at Edge as I worked.

When I was about halfway finished with my sculpture, the bell rang out, signaling lunchtime. I ducked quickly as Cypher scanned the room before heading out. I sighed in relief—thank goodness I’d gotten here early, or they’d have dragged me along for another group lunch. I glanced at Edge, waiting for him to leave, but it seemed he planned to skip the break too. So, I quietly moved closer to him, who was in the middle of carving something that resembled a grotesque gremlin.

"Wow, I didn’t know a monster like that exists," I muttered under my breath, not realizing I’d spoken aloud.

He whipped around immediately, glaring at me with an intimidating intensity, but when he recognized it was me, his expression softened into a furrowed brow. "Remillia? What are you doing here?"

"I’m in the same class as you," I replied, trying to sound casual despite the awkwardness.

"I don’t care," he said, turning back to focus on his statue without another word.

I ignored his dismissal, grabbing a nearby chair and plopping down beside him. "I’m curious," I said, leaning in to examine his work. "Can you explain what you’re sculpting?"

"Leave," he waved his hand dismissively, not bothering to elaborate.

I started pondering what Edge could be sculpting. Was it a new type of monster? A ferocious beast? How come I’d never heard or seen of it? But then, what if it wasn’t a monster at all, but a human instead? That’s when it dawned on me, and I couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

Edge shot me an annoyed glare. "What are you laughing at, you witch?"

"I know what you’re sculpting," I said, struggling to stifle my laughter.

He ignored me, probably thinking I was bluffing.

"Is it..." I paused for dramatic effect. "Angela?"

When I said that, he flinched, his hawk-like eyes narrowing into a fierce glare. However, he only clicked his tongue in irritation and returned to his sculpting.

"So it is Angela," I confirmed, unable to hold back another round of laughter.

"Shut the hell up," he growled, suddenly transforming his carving knife into an axe.

"Aack!" I bolted back to my seat, still laughing uncontrollably.

Then, I found myself staring at him again, unable to look away.

"It must look like her," he murmured to himself, a hint of satisfaction in his voice as he focused intently on his sculpting.

"He really changed a lot," I muttered under my breath.

Had Raphael’s death, or Claude Darkfire’s grueling training, or even just hanging out with his friends affected him that much? Either way, so many things had shifted, and more changes were surely on the horizon. I just hoped he wouldn’t end up becoming the villain I’d written for him in the novel.

I shook my head, trying to refocus on my own sculpting, but every time I glanced his way, my eyes drifted back to his artwork, and I had to stifle another laugh.

I wasn’t sure if he could hear it, but since we were the only ones left in the room, he flinched every time my laughter escaped.

"Okay, that’s it," he finally snapped, standing up as his carving knife morphed back into an axe.

My eyes widened in alarm as he stalked toward me, and I bolted, already sprinting away. "H-Hold on! I wasn’t laughing at you, I swear!" We dashed through the hallways now, me dodging his outstretched arms in a frantic chase.

"Is that Remillia?"

"Again?"

"Ignore them. Those popular kids always like to chase her"

"Poor witch. I don’t know if she was a flying disk in her past life that those people like to chase her."

These jerks! I could hear every word they were saying. I wasn’t sure if they were mocking me or pitying me.

I skidded to a halt and turned to face him. "I’ll help you!" I declared, closing my eyes tightly.