CHAPTER 37: LATE MIRA

The next day was eventful, packed with a full schedule of classes that ranged from ability theory to combat tactics to the history of the post-Dabba world. But Jelo was barely focused on any of them.

His mind kept returning to the mission planned for that evening. Tonight, he and Mira would attempt to break into the teachers’ quarters to find better information about dragons—about his abilities, his transformation, the scope of what he was becoming. The risk was enormous. If they were caught, the consequences would be severe. Expulsion at minimum, possibly criminal charges depending on what they accessed.

But he needed that information. The single book in the student library had been useless, offering nothing but vague mythology and speculation. If he was going to survive in this academy, if he was going to understand what the system was turning him into, he needed real data.

So throughout the day, Jelo remained zoned out, uninterested, and distracted. Teachers’ voices faded into background noise. Lessons passed in a blur. He answered questions when called upon, but his responses were automatic, his mind clearly elsewhere.

During history class—a course examining the societal reconstruction after the Dabba invasions—the teacher finally had enough of his lack of attention.

Mrs. Umbridge was a strict woman in her late forties with sharp features and an even sharper tongue. Her blonde hair was always pulled back into a severe bun so tight it seemed to pull at her scalp, and her eyes missed nothing that happened in her classroom.

"Mr. Jelo," her voice cut through his thoughts like a knife. "Perhaps you’d like to share with the class what’s so fascinating about the ceiling that you’ve been staring at it for the past ten minutes?"

Jelo’s head snapped down, suddenly aware that every student in the room was now looking at him. Heat rose to his cheeks.

"I... uh..." he started, scrambling for an excuse.

"That’s what I thought," Mrs. Umbridge said coldly, her arms crossing over her chest. "You have nothing to contribute because you haven’t been paying attention. This is the third time this class period I’ve caught you daydreaming. Whatever personal matters are occupying your mind, I suggest you leave them outside my classroom. Is that understood?"

"Yes, ma’am," Jelo said quickly, straightening in his seat.

"Good," Mrs. Umbridge replied sharply. "Now, as I was explaining before I was interrupted by your mental absence, the restructuring of government systems after the First Wave required..."

Her voice continued, but Jelo forced himself to actually listen this time, to take notes, to at least pretend he was engaged. The last thing he needed was to draw more attention to himself right before attempting something as risky as breaking into restricted areas.

The rest of the day passed with agonizing slowness. Each class felt like it lasted hours. Each break between classes felt too short to relax but too long to ignore. Jelo found himself constantly checking the time on his wrist device, watching the minutes tick by with excruciating patience.

Finally, mercifully, the last class ended.

Students filed out of classrooms, heading to the cafeteria f or back to their dorms to relax. The evening period had begun—that stretch of time between the end of classes and curfew when students had relative freedom to do as they pleased.

Jelo skipped dinner entirely. He was too nervous to eat, his stomach tied in knots of anticipation and anxiety. Instead, he headed straight to the common room to wait for Mira.

He found a corner seat with a view of the entrance and sat down, trying to look casual while his leg bounced nervously beneath the table. Every time someone entered the common room, his eyes would snap to the doorway, hoping it was Mira.

But minute after minute passed, and she didn’t appear.

Jelo checked his wristwatch again. She was late.

He stood up, paced to the window, looked out at nothing in particular, then returned to his seat. Stood up again. Sat down. His impatience was growing with each passing moment, that familiar obsessive feeling building in his chest.

Where is she? he thought irritably. We agreed on a time. Every minute we waste is another minute that increases our chances of getting caught.

Finally, after what felt like hours but was probably only ten minutes past their agreed meeting time, Mira appeared in the doorway.

And she looked beautiful.

She’d clearly put effort into how she looked—her dark hair was styled into neat pigtails that framed her face, and she was wearing a casual but flattering outfit that somehow made her look both approachable and striking at the same time. When she spotted Jelo, she flashed him a dazzling smile and walked over.

"Hey," she said brightly when she reached him. "Ready to go?"

Jelo’s frustration immediately reasserted itself. "What took you so long?" he asked, unable to keep the edge out of his voice.

Mira blinked, confused by his tone. "What do you mean?" She lifted her wristwatch and showed him the display. "I’m only one minute late. See? We said 6:15, and it’s 6:16."

Jelo stared at the time stamp, then at her face, then back at the time. She was right. One minute. He’d just been so impatient, so anxious about the mission, that it had felt much longer.

"Oh," he said, feeling foolish. Heat crept up his neck as embarrassment washed over him. He coughed awkwardly, trying to cover his unreasonable reaction. "Right. Sorry. I just... I’ve been waiting for a while and got anxious."

Mira’s expression changed and she became a little amused "Nervous about tonight?"

"Yeah," Jelo admitted quietly. "A little."

"That’s fair," Mira said. "But we’re going to be fine. I’m a pro at this."

Jelo nodded, trying to draw confidence from her certainty. "Right. You’re right." He took a breath and straightened his shoulders. "It’s time. Let’s go."

Mira nodded in agreement,

The two of them headed toward the exit of the common room, side by side.

Unbeknownst to them, many eyes were watching.

The rumors about Jelo and Mira had spread like wildfire through the student body over the past few days. Ever since they’d returned from the field trip looking disheveled and emerged from the ruins together, speculation had been rampant. Some students thought they were dating. Others thought they were just hooking up. A few of the more imaginative ones had constructed elaborate conspiracy theories about secret missions or forbidden abilities.

So when students saw them leaving the common room together in the evening, dressed nicely and clearly heading somewhere with purpose, it only added fuel to the gossip fire.

"There they go again," someone whispered.

"Where do you think they’re going?"

"Probably somewhere private. I heard—"

"Did you see how she dressed up for him?"

"I didn’t think Jelo had it in him, honestly. He’s rank F."

"Maybe she likes the underdog type."

The whispers followed them as they left, but Jelo was too focused on the mission ahead to notice or care.

However, not all the watching eyes were curious or gossiping.

Atlas stood near one of the windows, partially hidden by a support pillar, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His expression was dark, annoyance clearly written across his features as he watched Jelo and Mira leave together.

Why does he want to spend time with her? Atlas thought irritably, his jaw clenching.