The room looked more like a courtroom than any classroom Cordelia had ever seen.
A long stone table dominated the space, surrounded by tall-backed wooden chairs. The walls were bare except for a few dark banners with the academy's crest. No decorative glyphs. No floating lights. Just the cold weight of judgment hanging in the air.
At one side of the room stood Professor Halvern, arms folded tightly across his chest, his gaze sharp and self-assured. Beside him sat Serina Thornevale, wearing an elegant academy uniform embroidered in gold, her chin tilted high with a practiced look of innocence.
Across the room, at the center, Director Adler Vos Vogelsong entered with his signature half-smile and bright eyes—as if he were walking into a tea party rather than a disciplinary hearing.
He was in his fifties, tall and lean, with gray hair tied into a low ponytail and dressed in simple, elegant robes of navy and silver. His expression radiated warmth—and a subtle hint of amusement.
On either side of the director sat Professor Trinity, calm and composed, and Professor Al, who absently twirled the end of his white mustache. Professor Darius remained silent, arms crossed and observing.
Finally, near the center of the room, stood Cordelia Ross. Her back was straight, her expression unreadable. But her heart beat fast beneath her uniform.
The room remained still. They were waiting.
The family Thornevale had yet to arrive.
Outside the courtroom, Noah sat alone on a wooden bench, one leg crossed over the other.
He wore his formal academy uniform—simple, crisp lines in deep blue and silver. The crest on his chest gleamed faintly in the light that streamed through the arched hallway windows.
He tapped one finger slowly against the bench's armrest, gaze distant.
'So… they're trying to bury her,' he thought.'Not happening.'
He leaned back, head tilted slightly, watching the entrance to the hallway with cold patience.
And then—they arrived.
The footsteps echoed first: heavy, deliberate.
Moments later, Baron Revin of House Thornevale appeared, flanked by two lesser attendants.
The man looked exactly as Noah remembered him: early fifties, a velvet overcoat that strained against his widening stomach, blonde hair slicked back in thin waves that failed to cover his balding crown. Rings glittered on thick fingers as he adjusted his cuffs, and a heavy golden chain bounced with each step.
Noah's lips curled upward into a slow, thin smile.
"Baron Revin," he called smoothly, voice light. "Long time no see. How have you been this past month?"
Revin stopped mid-step. His eyes flicked toward Noah—sharp, calculating.
For a heartbeat, something flickered in them: wariness.
The baron knew Noah. He had worked with him on caravan runs for nearly a month. And he knew the boy was… unsettling.
"Ah… well… young Noah," Revin said, voice guarded. "I've come today regarding a matter concerning my daughter."
Noah tilted his head. "Oh? And what matter might that be? If I may ask, of course."
A sharper smile touched his lips—predatory.
Revin stiffened. A faint shiver ran through him. He licked his lips once.
"My daughter encountered… an issue during a duel. We were informed her opponent used a forbidden enhancer. Naturally, as you know… our family's honor cannot overlook such behavior."
Noah's smile widened, eyes gleaming with quiet amusement.
"Ah. Of course. I know your family very well, in fact. Far too well, you could say."
A bead of sweat formed at Revin's temple.
He forced a polite chuckle. "Why are you laughing, young Noah?"
Noah's voice dropped, silk-wrapped steel.
"Well, Baron… do you remember the hooded girl who helped us during the caravan mission? The elemental fire enchanter?"
He leaned forward, voice soft.
"She's a dear friend of mine now. The one your daughter faced."
Revin blinked. His smile faltered.
"I… see… That is unfortunate… but rules must be upheld—"
Noah's eyes gleamed darker. "Oh? I'm afraid we may not be quite on the same page yet, Baron."
He reached casually into his coat and pulled out a small slip of parchment—a photograph. He held it between two fingers.
"Would you be so kind as to take a look at this?"
Revin's eyes flicked down. The blood drained from his face.
It was a photo—himself, stepping into a certain establishment well after dark. An establishment no respectable noble would admit visiting.
His voice caught. "How did you—?"
Noah's tone remained soft—almost too soft.
"After one of our missions… I was looking for dinner. I happened to spot something… interesting. Thought it might be useful, one day."
He tilted the photo playfully.
"I wonder what your lovely wife would think of this scene. Poor thing. Imagine the shock."
Revin swallowed hard.
Noah smiled wider. "And it would be a terrible shame if poor Cordelia Ross were expelled unjustly over something she didn't do, don't you think?"
Revin's mouth opened, closed.
"...Yes. A terrible shame indeed."
Noah leaned back, tucking the photo away.
"I see we're finally on the same page, Baron Revin of House Thornevale."
Revin said nothing more.
Face pale, jaw clenched, he turned sharply and walked toward the courtroom doors.
Noah didn't follow.
He watched in silence as the doors opened.
Inside the room, heads turned. Cordelia's eyes flicked toward the entrance.
For a fleeting moment, she saw Noah outside—leaning against the bench, one hand casually raised.
Thumbs up.
Her breath caught.
'What is he doing?'
As Baron Revin entered the room, the tension shifted.
All eyes turned to the doorway.
Serina Thornevale was the first to react. Her face lit up with relief and vindication.
"Father! You're here!" she called out, rising slightly from her seat.
Revin managed a tight smile, his gaze flicking once—quickly and sharply—toward Noah, still visible outside the door. The Baron's jaw tightened.
He stepped forward.
"Yes... I'm here, my dear."
Serina's voice turned urgent. "Good! Please—do something! Cordelia must not go unpunished for what she did!"
Before Revin could answer, Professor Halvern straightened in his chair.
"Indeed. The academy cannot overlook such a breach of conduct. The student must face consequences."
At the head of the room, Director Adler Vos Vogelsong gave a light chuckle.
"Now, now," he said, hands folded loosely on the table. "Let's not lose our composure. We're here to resolve this like adults, yes?"
He beamed at the room, eyes twinkling with that familiar, infuriating amusement.
On one side of the table, Professor Trinity, Professor Al, and Professor Darius exchanged glances.
Trinity's voice was low.
"We cannot allow Cordelia to be expelled. Not over this."
Al nodded firmly. "It would be throwing away a unique talent."
Darius added, voice calm but resolute. "She must be nurtured and supported, not cast aside."
The atmosphere was delicate. One wrong move, one push too far—and everything could tip into chaos.
The trial was just beginning.
Baron Revin stood tall now, his expression unusually serious.
He looked toward his daughter, voice calm but firm.
"Serina, darling… please tell the truth."
Serina blinked, caught off guard. "What do you mean, Father? Cordelia cheated—I saw it! And so did Professor Halvern, isn't that right, Professor?"
She turned expectantly.
But Halvern sat frozen for a breath too long. Sweat glistened faintly at his temple.
Inside, his mind was racing.
'Shit, shit, don't drag me into this now—why did I even get involved with this girl's mess—if I get caught it'll ruin me—'
He forced a strained smile.
"I… can't say for certain, Serina," he said slowly. "We're here based on your accusation. Of course, further investigation will be required."
Serina's eyes widened, her voice rising. "What!? You said you would back me up—you promised—now you're lying to me?!"
Halvern straightened, tone colder. "Accusing a professor of lying is a very serious offense, young lady."
At the side, Trinity, Al, and Darius exchanged a look of disbelief.
Trinity's voice was sharp. "And what does it say about a professor who lies first and then tries to shift the blame onto a young girl—shameless."
Revin turned fully to his daughter now.
"Serina. Are you certain you're not lying to me?"
Across the room, Cordelia sat frozen, watching the scene unfold with wide eyes.
'What's happening? I thought they would all be against me… did Noah do something? Is that why he gave me the thumbs up? Wait… now that I think about it… Revin's face… it looks so familiar—'
Serina's resolve cracked. Under the weight of her father's gaze and the shifting room, she finally broke.
"Fine! I lied! But Professor Halvern was involved too!"
Gasps echoed through the chamber.
The entire tone of the trial shifted in an instant.
For a long moment, the room was silent.
Then Director Adler Vos Vogelsong, for once without his usual smile, spoke softly.
"Well… it seems all of this could have been avoided."
He rose from his chair, eyes twinkling once again, the smile returning.
"Well then, I'll leave the rest to you, Trinity," he said cheerfully.
And without another word, he turned and vanished through the side door—as if he'd melted into the air.
Trinity shot up from her chair. "DAMN YOU OLD MAN!!!"
She caught herself, cleared her throat.
"Excuse my language."
Her gaze swept the room.
"Due to the… generous contributions of House Thornevale, the punishment will be mild."
Cordelia stood slowly.
"Professor… honestly, a sincere apology is enough for me."
Trinity nodded once. "If that is your wish, so be it."
She turned sharply to Serina.
"You heard her."
Baron Revin's voice followed, tone iron.
"Do it, Serina Thornevale. Do not play with serious matters."
Serina trembled, fists clenched.
"Fine… I'm sorry for falsely accusing you and causing you trouble, Cordelia."
Cordelia's voice was cool. "Doesn't sound very sincere. But fine. Accepted."
Trinity's voice rang out. "Then this matter is closed. As if it never happened."
Just as the words left her mouth—
BOOOOM
A massive explosion thundered through the academy, shaking the very walls of the chamber.
Dust fell from the ceiling. The room trembled.
Gasps and shouted voices filled the air.
Cordelia's eyes widened.
'What now…?'