Visible phantom

Kaelan's thoughts churned restlessly, the idea of stepping into the vice principal role swirling in his mind like leaves caught in a tempest. It was a position of power, yes, but it came with shackling responsibilities—ones that required more than mere competence; they demanded loyalty to a system he still did not fully trust.

"Tell me more about the principal," Kaelan said, breaking the silence that had enveloped the room like a thick fog. His direct gaze met Thalor's, sharpening the gravity of his words. "If I'm to step into this position, I need to understand the man who casts such a long shadow over this academy."

Professor Thalor's hesitation was palpable as he searched for the right choice of words. "I cannot provide much, Mr. Kaelan. The principal prefers to operate behind a veil, handling matters from the shadows." He paused, concern flickering across his features. "What I know is largely based on the histories and accolades—nothing personal."

"Nothing personal?" Kaelan echoed, incredulous. "How can someone lead an academy without engaging with it? How can any institution thrive under the leadership of an invisible figure?"

"It is complicated," Thalor replied cautiously. "The principal's method serves to keep the academy neutral, less influenced by biases or personal relationships. He provides a sort of stabilizing presence, even if it is indirect."

Kaelan frowned. "That sounds less like leadership and more like a phantom clinging to power."

Thalor rubbed the back of his neck, clearly grappling with his thoughts. "There are many theories, but the principal fosters an air of mystique—perhaps to inspire both reverence and fear among faculty and students alike. His absence speaks loudly, and yet… there's still a palpable respect for his decisions."

Kaelan regarded Thalor closely, noting the tension in his posture and the guardedness in his expression. The professor was keeping something hidden, skirting around the truths that lay beyond the surface.

"This mystique isn't just a tactic," Kaelan murmured. "It's a fortress. One designed to protect him… or something else."

Thalor exhaled sharply but said nothing. That, in itself, was an answer.

Kaelan narrowed his eyes. "What are you afraid of?"

Thalor stiffened. The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken truths. Kaelan could see it now—the weight of something far larger pressing down on this academy. The absence of a visible leader wasn't mere tradition; it was a shield, protecting secrets that no one dared to speak aloud.

The pieces were shifting into place. If the principal was truly as distant as Thalor suggested, then someone else had to be maintaining his presence. Someone was enforcing this illusion of leadership.

Thalor finally spoke, his voice lower now. "The academy must endure, no matter the cost. That is the principal's greatest lesson."

Kaelan leaned back, his mind racing. "Endure?" he repeated. "Or obey?"

Thalor looked away.

A slow realization settled over Kaelan. Whatever this academy was hiding, it ran deep—deeper than a mere missing figurehead. He had walked into a system designed to maintain a fragile equilibrium, and now, they wanted him to be a part of it.

No. More than that.

They wanted him to become the illusion.

Kaelan let out a quiet chuckle, though there was no humor in it. "You don't need a vice principal," he said. "You need someone to wear the mask."

Thalor didn't deny it.

Kaelan stood, the weight of the conversation settling over him. He had come here seeking answers, and all he had found were more questions wrapped in layers of deception.

But if they wanted him to step into this role, he would do it on his terms.

"If I take this position," Kaelan said, voice steady, "I'll find the truth myself."

Thalor flinched slightly, as if he had expected this very outcome. He simply nodded

Kaelan exhaled slowly, his voice steady but edged with suspicion. "Does that mean you don't want me as the vice principal?" He paused, letting the weight of his words settle in the air before continuing. "The academy want me to take the principal's role."

Thalor's expression remained carefully neutral, but the flicker of hesitation in his eyes betrayed him. Kaelan pressed further. "Not as a new face, but as the old one—the hidden one."

Silence.

It was answer enough.

A slow, humorless smirk tugged at Kaelan's lips. "So that's it," he murmured. "You don't need a second-in-command. You need a ghost."

Thalor's eyes met Kaelan's with an unyielding intensity. He exhaled slowly before speaking, his tone resolute yet tinged with a hint of regret.

"You've summed it up perfectly, Mr. Kaelan," he began, each word measured. "The academy indeed wishes for you to disguise yourself as the principal. Not merely as a vice principal, but as the very embodiment of the principal's legacy—a ghost in plain sight."

He paused, allowing the gravity of his words to settle. "This isn't about creating a new face. It's about instilling fear and doubt in those who prey upon our institution. If the principal were to return openly, our enemies would have the confidence to act against us. But if you assume his guise, if you present yourself as the strong, unyielding figure that the academy requires, then those who seek to undermine us will find themselves uncertain. They will hesitate, questioning whether the shadow of the old principal still looms—or if you, standing before them, are the real force that commands respect."

Thalor's voice softened slightly, laden with the weight of unspoken truths. "In this way, your presence will serve as a deterrent—a symbol that, even in the principal's absence, our authority remains unchallenged."

Kaelan absorbed the words in silence, his mind racing with the implications. The plan was dangerous and daring—a masquerade that could reshape the balance of power within the academy. Yet, in the quiet strength of Thalor's confession, he sensed the opportunity to secure not only influence but also to expose the hidden machinations that had long plagued the institution.

"Very well," Kaelan murmured, a sly smirk tugging at his lips. His gaze sharpened, calculating. "Then I'll play the part. Let them whisper, let them wonder—if the principal has truly returned, who would dare test the depths of his power?"

Kaelan leaned back, exhaling slowly as a smirk played on his lips. He tapped his fingers against the desk, eyes glinting with something unreadable—amusement, calculation, or perhaps both.

"My answer is yes," he said smoothly, his voice carrying the weight of inevitability. "I'll be your phantom. Let them believe the principal watches once more. Fear is a powerful thing—it makes people hesitate, question, second-guess their every move. And in that hesitation, we will have control."

He waved a hand dismissively. "That will be all, Professor Thalor. Spread the word carefully. I'll be watching to see how the pieces fall into place."

Thalor hesitated for only a moment before giving a deep nod and turning to leave. As the door clicked shut behind him, Kaelan's smirk widened.

As the door clicked shut behind Thalor, Kaelan let out a quiet breath, his smirk faltering for just a fraction of a second. A single bead of sweat traced down his temple.

They're sharper than I gave them credit for.

The academy wasn't just some institution run by idealists or bureaucrats—it was a machine of careful calculation, deception, and control. They had orchestrated a move so precise that even he had to admire it. Instead of simply replacing the principal, they were weaponizing his legend, using fear as a shield.

And yet… they hadn't figured out his secret.

His fingers curled slightly against the desk. Is it because they truly can't fathom it? That someone could exist without mana in this world?

The very idea was absurd to them. A person without mana was like a body without blood—unthinkable, impossible. And because of that impossibility, no one even considered it a possibility.

That blind spot was his greatest advantage. But it also meant that the moment someone did suspect the truth, his entire illusion would shatter.

Kaelan exhaled, rolling his shoulders. No use dwelling on impossibilities. What's important is that they haven't realized it yet.

He straightened, the smirk returning, though this time with a sharper edge. They want a phantom? Then I'll give them one.