Chapter 2: The Girl Who Saw Too Much

The aftermath of the duel-that-wasn't rippled through Arcanum Academy like a dropped crystal chalice. Gossip bloomed like wildfire, tongues wagging through enchanted hallways and common rooms thick with the scent of fire dust and burnt tea.

The sixth-ranked Marcus Vale had been humiliated—not by defeat, but by absence. By silence. By Lucien Drex simply... not showing up.

The professors remained tight-lipped. The disciplinary committee had been activated. Whispers of forged papers and illicit charms roamed the dorms like restless spirits.

Seraphina Vale stood at the edge of the dueling grounds, arms crossed, cloak fluttering slightly in the enchanted breeze. Her long silver hair, braided with strands of rune-etched thread, gleamed like starlight. Eyes as cold as enchanted ice scanned the circular stone floor.

Lucien Drex.

A name that shouldn't matter.

But somehow—did.

She hadn't expected anything from him. The file said low magical aptitude. Average scores. Passive demeanor. He was practically an academic shadow. And yet…

When Marcus came back seething and half-unraveled, it wasn't rage from combat. It was the bitterness of being outplayed. Without a spell. Without an audience.

That kind of power—the power to make someone destroy themselves without ever touching them—was far more dangerous than any fireball.

She turned on her heel.

Time to find him.

---

Lucien Drex was exactly where she suspected he'd be.

The eastern gardens had long since been abandoned after the vine witches from House Floramancy accidentally bred sentient ivy that swallowed three benches and one unfortunate librarian. The academy had simply sealed off the space and let it rot in elegant disuse.

Lucien lay on a low stone bench, hood up, arm draped over his eyes. A floating rune crystal hovered above his head like a lazy mosquito, rotating slowly with dull magical light.

Seraphina stopped two paces away. "You're late for Strategy Applications."

Lucien didn't move. "I applied strategy to avoid it."

Her mouth twitched.

"You embarrassed my cousin."

Lucien sighed. "He embarrassed himself. I just scheduled the appointment."

Silence.

Seraphina studied him. He didn't twitch. Didn't fidget. Most people under her gaze did something—straightened their collar, adjusted their stance, looked away. He just... existed. Like gravity.

She stepped closer. "You forged that paperwork, didn't you?"

"No," Lucien said. "He forged it. I just made sure the right eyes saw it."

"Why?"

He finally moved—just his fingers, reaching lazily into his coat for a piece of sugar-glazed bread. "Because I hate unnecessary noise."

Seraphina frowned. "You could have beaten him outright."

Lucien bit into the bread. Chewed. Swallowed. "Exactly."

Her eyes narrowed. "You're hiding something."

"Yes. It's called peace and quiet. I recommend it."

She stepped even closer, standing over him now. "Are you afraid of being seen?"

Lucien looked up at her, eyes half-lidded, silver irises unreadable.

"No. I'm afraid of being bored."

That threw her.

She turned away—but not before he said, casually:

"You wear House Vale's insignia. But your magic threads are Icebound, not Firecast. You're lying to someone."

She froze.

Lucien sat up slowly, brushing crumbs from his coat. "Don't worry. I'm not interested."

"In what?"

"Whatever drama you nobles do behind curtains. I'm not a piece in your game."

She spun back. "What are you then?"

Lucien met her eyes.

"The one watching the board burn."

---

Later that evening, Seraphina sat alone in the House Vale dormitory study chamber, a dozen parchments laid out before her.

She had pulled every report, scorecard, and duel record on Lucien Drex.

They were laughable.

Mediocre spell grades. Absent practical scores. Not a single duel recorded. Professors labeled him passive, disengaged, or even incompetent.

But there were gaps. Too many.

One duel form was missing completely—filed, but redacted. Another showed a failed spell result, but the surrounding reports suggested the opposing student had suffered minor neural burnout. And in every group assignment, Lucien's partners either dropped out or transferred shortly after.

Coincidence?

Not to her.

She tapped her fingers against the parchment. "Who are you really, Lucien Drex?"

A soft knock on her door interrupted the silence.

It was Renn Yulden. Nervous. Sweaty.

"I... I think I made a mistake," he whispered.

---

Meanwhile, Lucien walked the silent halls of the old tower annex, past classrooms sealed decades ago, each marked with cautionary runes and containment locks.

He reached a narrow chamber. Inside, a mirror flickered—not with his reflection, but with pages of rotating script. Updates. Movement logs. Surveillance feedback.

The Pale Sigil had started moving.

Lucien placed one palm on the glass. His voice barely a whisper.

"Let them come."

The mirror glitched. A brief flicker of another face—hooded, grinning, watching him.

Lucien didn't flinch.

---

Back in her room, Seraphina stared at Renn.

"What did you do?"

He shook. "I... I followed him. I thought—just for a second—I could prove he's cheating somehow."

She leaned in. "And?"

Renn opened his hand. A black rune sigil burned on his palm. It was pulsing faintly.

"I can't get it off. And I don't remember how I got it."

Seraphina's breath caught.

Lucien Drex didn't just lay traps.

He laid questions.

And the more you chased him, the more you found yourself inside the snare.

She looked at Renn.

Then back at her board of notes.

One name stood out.

Obsidian Project — FILE CLOSED

She circled it in red.

---

Lucien Drex, in his dorm, opened a fresh book, sipped cold tea, and let the sigils around his room reset.

He didn't need to chase answers.

He just needed them to come looking.

And they were.