The underground chamber trembled—not from collapse, but from fury.

  Stone pillars lined the wide hall, their surfaces carved with ancient sigils that pulsed faintly red, as if responding to the emotions saturating the air. The symbols glowed irregularly, casting dull crimson light across stacked crates and iron racks filled with sealed vials. Each vial bore the same stamped insignia: Ashveil.

  The smell of alchemical residue and cold stone lingered heavily.

  At the center of the chamber stood the boss of the syndicate.

  Varkhan Lucem.

  He was tall—unnaturally so—and broad-shouldered, his mere presence making the air feel thin and oppressive. Long silver-black hair spilled down his back like liquid shadow, and a crimson coat hung loosely over dark, reinforced armor. His stance was relaxed, but there was nothing casual about him.

  His eyes—cold, luminous, and merciless—swept across the kneeling subordinates before him.

  “…Say it again,” Varkhan said quietly.

  The softness of his voice made it worse.

  One man swallowed hard, his throat bobbing visibly. “The… the secret passageways beneath Fiester Academy have been discovered.”

  Silence followed.

  Then—

  Varkhan laughed.

  It was short. Sharp. Empty. Devoid of amusement.

  “Discovered,” he repeated, turning the word over like a blade. “And you don’t know who found them?”

  The subordinates lowered their heads further, foreheads nearly touching the stone. “We… we are still investigating.”

  Varkhan’s hand moved.

  Steel sang.

  From his side, he drew his sword—Demon Circle.

  The blade was curved, forged from darkened steel that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. Along its surface ran faint circular etchings, spiraling inward like ritual seals etched into the metal itself. The guard was minimal—a black ring of metal engraved with sigils—and the pommel bore a hollow circle filled with a glowing red crystal that pulsed faintly, almost like a heartbeat.

  According to old lore, Demon Circle was a cursed blade—one that fed on wrath. It was said that when swung with true killing intent, the circular seals would resonate, sharpening the blade beyond reason, severing anything caught within its arc as if it were paper.

  Varkhan didn’t hesitate.

  In one smooth motion, he turned and swung.

  The head of the nearest subordinate separated cleanly from his body and struck the stone floor with a dull, wet thud—eyes still wide, mouth frozen mid-breath.

  Blood splattered across the floor and pillars.

  The remaining men froze, breath caught in their throats, bodies trembling as the realization settled in.

  “Fix this,” Varkhan growled, crimson eyes burning like coals. “Find out who is ruining my plans. Tear them apart if you have to.”

  No one dared speak.

  “Move,” he snapped.

  They scattered instantly, fleeing the chamber like prey released from a snare.

  Varkhan stood alone, staring down at the corpse at his feet.

  “…Annoying,” he muttered.

  High above, the night was calm.

  On the rooftop of the Second Academic Building, near the girls’ dormitories, Itsuki Shiraishi stood with her hands folded neatly behind her back. The wind tugged gently at her robes, fluttering the fabric as she gazed up at the star-filled sky.

  The academy below was quiet. Too quiet.

  “So quiet,” she murmured.

  Her expression softened, something distant and unreadable crossing her eyes.

  “…Akitsu Shouga,” she whispered to the night. “Are you still alive, I wonder?”

  The stars offered no answer.

  Steam curled lazily into the air.

  The newly opened cherry blossom hot spring near Fiester Academy glowed warmly beneath hanging lanterns. Their golden light reflected off gently rippling water, while pale petals drifted across the surface, carried by the night breeze.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Inside the women’s hot spring, laughter echoed softly, bouncing off stone walls.

  Clothes were neatly folded into baskets. Towels were wrapped modestly around shoulders as the group stepped into the bath.

  Kaoru, Miyazuki Ashen, Hana Kurosawa, and the other female student council members entered together.

  They were:

  Airi Tachibana — calm and analytical, her glasses fogging instantly

  Noa Fuyuki — energetic, smiling as always

  Reina Morobe — quiet, observant

  Suzu Kanzaki — sharp-tongued but fiercely loyal

  “Ahhh…” Noa sighed as she sank into the water. “This feels amazing.”

  Suzu followed, lowering herself with a groan. “I thought my legs were going to fall off after patrol.”

  Kaoru eased in more slowly, shoulders relaxing as the heat enveloped her. “It really is relaxing.”

  Everyone settled in—except Hana, who sat at the edge, dipping only her feet into the water.

  “…You’re not coming in?” Reina asked gently.

  Hana shook her head. “I’ll join in a bit.”

  Miyazuki leaned back against the stone edge, eyes half-lidded, steam curling around her hair. “Since we’re all here… what are you planning to do during the two-week holiday?”

  Silence.

  “…Holiday?” Noa blinked.

  Suzu frowned. “What holiday?”

  Miyazuki opened one eye. “You didn’t hear?”

  Airi adjusted her glasses. “No. What are you talking about?”

  “The headmaster told me,” Miyazuki said calmly. “There may be a two-week break because of the current situation.”

  Kaoru nodded. “It’s true. I heard it directly from Headmaster Itsuki when I ran into her in the hallway.”

  Suzu splashed the water lightly. “Of course you two knew already.”

  Noa pouted. “Unfair. You get special treatment.”

  Miyazuki sighed. “It’s not special treatment.”

  Suzu raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

  “I’m the student council president,” Miyazuki replied evenly. “I handle half of the headmaster’s paperwork. And the Ashveil situation every single day. Information reaches me faster because it has to.”

  “…When you put it like that,” Reina murmured, “it does make sense.”

  Airi nodded. “Responsibility comes with access.”

  Noa sank deeper into the water. “Still jealous.”

  Kaoru smiled faintly. “If it helps, knowing early just means more stress.”

  Hana finally slid into the spring fully, steam rising around her shoulders. “…Speaking of Ashveil—how did they find the passageways under the academy?”

  Miyazuki’s expression hardened. “An anonymous letter.”

  Suzu blinked. “Anonymous?”

  “Yes,” Miyazuki said. “No signature. No trace. We tried to track it, but there was nothing.”

  Noa frowned. “That’s creepy.”

  Kaoru leaned forward slightly. “Whoever it was… they helped us a lot, didn’t they?”

  Reina nodded. “Without that, things could’ve been worse.”

  Hana tilted her head. “…What if it was the person Kaoru met during the survival camp?”

  Kaoru looked up. “Rhen Calder?”

  Hana nodded. “He knew when the camp would end. That wasn’t normal.”

  Kaoru shook her head. “I don’t think so. I met him yesterday at a café. He didn’t know anything about the passageways.”

  Miyazuki hummed thoughtfully. “Still… interesting timing.”

  Airi added quietly, “Whoever it was had precise information.”

  Suzu splashed the water again. “Mystery helper, evil cult, drug syndicate… this academy really attracts trouble.”

  Noa laughed weakly. “At least the hot spring is nice.”

  They all relaxed a little more, sinking deeper into the warmth.

  Steam rose.

  Cherry blossoms drifted.

  For one peaceful moment, there were no cults. No drugs. No shadows beneath the academy.

  Just quiet water and shared silence.

  And far away, unseen, plans continued to circle—waiting patiently for the next move.