Chapter 13: Spy

Jerome Kruger - IMEMR

As I followed Miss Monica down the stairs, I noticed the halls widening. These underground corridors were exclusive to academy staff, and though I had been here before, the sight still felt unfamiliar. The further we descended, the fewer students I saw. The distant clashing of iron echoed from the training grounds above.

"First time?" Monica asked, glancing at me with a knowing smile.

"Not really," I shrugged, my gaze still wandering. "But it looks the same as the last time I was here."

"And when was that?" she asked, curious.

I hesitated for a moment before replying, "Back when my mother was still a professor here."

"Oh," her tone softened with sympathy. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"It's fine, really. What matters is that she's alive—even if she doesn't remember me, hehe," I tried to lighten the mood, but my words only deepened the silence. Before the awkwardness could settle, a familiar voice called out.

"Jerome? What are you doing here?"

It was Professor Williams.

Before I could answer, Monica spoke for me. "The Student Council has called for his presence. It's regarding the upcoming tournament."

"I see," he nodded, then walked away.

I quickened my pace to match Monica's and lowered my voice. "Did you just lie to him? What are you hiding?"

"You'll understand soon enough," she replied, not looking back. "Until then, let's walk without unnecessary conversation."

Something felt off. I stayed wary of the black-haired girl walking just ahead of me, observing her every movement.

When we finally stopped in front of an old wooden door, I realized this wasn't the council room. Monica gestured for me to enter, and I followed, only to be met with an unexpected sight.

"L-Lord Harold?" I muttered, bowing slightly. Around a round meeting table sat academy professors and uniformed soldiers from the National Army. All seats were empty except for one, which I presumed was meant for me. Still, I hesitated to sit among such high-ranking figures.

But then my eyes landed on someone else—my father, Jarrod Kruger. He sat beside the prince himself, his arms crossed, eyes closed, deliberately avoiding my gaze.

"Have a seat, Mr. Jerome," the prince urged. After a glance at Monica, who stood silently in the corner, I complied.

Beside me sat the Student Council President, Miss Raylis, her posture stiff, her gaze averted.

The prince cleared his throat. "Let us commence the meeting, with Veyron's name in our hearts."

The room, already silent, grew even heavier.

"The reason I've called this meeting is to address an issue of utmost importance," the prince began, his gaze sharp. "This includes you as well, Jerome, as you will be the one acting on our behalf."

I felt eyes shift toward me, some whispering, others exchanging wary glances.

The prince continued, silencing the murmurs. "You are all aware of Mr. Vestiron's recent activities, yes? It is with great regret that I confirm the rumors—he has indeed betrayed the monarch."

The weight of his words hung in the air.

"And," he added, "we have identified a potential spy within our ranks." His fiery gaze locked onto me.

"I am assigning the Student Council to monitor Jerome's actions while he gathers evidence against this spy. And, of course, I am referring to none other than Professor Williams."

Despite my suspicions, hearing it confirmed still felt surreal.

"And sadly," the prince continued, "he has recruited students to aid him—two, to be exact. One from the Boltaire house and one from the Hyrphonus house. I am speaking of Uriel and Markov."

Uriel's name was a surprise to me. She had always been a nonchalant girl—impossible to read, unpredictable in her actions, and seemingly untouchable in her demeanor. No weaknesses, no slip-ups. But Markov?

The name was vaguely familiar. I was certain I had heard it before, but it didn't immediately register—until it did. Markov was one of the academy's scholars, someone I had occasionally seen with Audel. But the idea of that bookish, unassuming figure being tangled in the web of politics was difficult to grasp.

With a frustrated sigh, I turned to the prince. "What must I do, Your Highness?"

He leaned back, resting one hand on the armrest of his throne-like chair while the other absentmindedly toyed with a chess piece. "For now, just observe. You'll be notified when the time comes—when you are to strike against them. Understood?"

"Yes, my Lord." My response was instant, but the weight of the moment was made heavier by the sharp gaze of my father, Jarrod Kruger, piercing through me for the first time.

"Dismissed. You shalt walk free for now," the prince declared with a wave of his hand. Monica gestured for me to leave, and I turned toward the exit.

As I walked, my thoughts lingered on Miss Raylis. The Student Council president had worn a frown since my arrival, her unease almost palpable. But now, I noticed something else—she was trembling.

"I will not be controlled," I murmured under my breath, my voice barely above a whisper.

The hallway stretched vast and empty as I walked alone—until something caught my eye.

A shadow. A silhouette disappearing around the corner.

Someone had been watching us.

My pace quickened, and so did theirs.

I wasn't imagining things. Someone was there. Someone was running.