Alex strolled through the corridor of the Exam halls like someone too tired to care if the floor tried to swallow him. His coat was half-buttoned, his boots slightly scuffed, and his expression somewhere between neutral and absolutely done with everything.
The magical lights overhead adjusted as he passed, flickering between polite illumination and confused indecision, as if even the enchantments weren't sure how to react to his aura today. A few students glanced his way—some with curiosity, others with barely-concealed whispers—but the storm of Day Two had cooled to a manageable simmer.
People still stared. Just not as much.
At least no one offered him their breakfast spot this time. Small wins.
The faint echo of spellfire and instructor shouting echoed down from one of the upper chambers. A glowing rune-burst flickered on a display board before a nearby student hastily extinguished it, cheeks red and eyebrows slightly singed.
Alex rubbed his face, muttering under his breath, "At least no one's accusing me of triggering prophecy with a sneeze today."
A familiar ping in his ear—one of Jamie's subtle communication spells—buzzed gently.
"We've got three potential recruits under observation," she whispered. "One nearly talked down an enchanted mimic by complimenting its spatial alignment."
Alex blinked. "...Is that a thing?"
"Apparently. Also, someone tried to duel with a spoon."
He sighed, turning a corner and stepping aside to avoid a rolling cart enchanted with suspicious enthusiasm. The cart emitted cheerful humming and carried an unstable stack of illusion scrolls that shimmered with anxiety.
Compared to yesterday, the vibe was toned down. Less cult-of-personality, more reluctant curiosity. A few instructors nodded politely as he passed. One even offered a stiff half-smile—the academic equivalent of a thumbs-up and a security clearance.
"Maybe this is what normal feels like," Alex muttered.
Then a second-year illusionist walked past him while loudly pretending to have a serious conversation with a floating chalkboard labeled "Important Destiny Notes."
Alex rolled his eyes. "Or maybe not."
Still, no one bowed. No one gasped. No one whispered "emperor-in-training." That alone made it a better day.
But the illusion of normalcy cracked slightly as he rounded another corner and spotted a familiar walking haircut—Darian Velthar, a sycophant from House Kelvran—surrounded by three junior girls from one of the peripheral alchemy schools.
Darian wore his House colors like a designer perfume: too strong and too proud. He gestured dramatically, voice just loud enough to be overheard without technically shouting.
"You really must visit House Kelvran sometime," he said with a smile so polished it could reflect magical interference. "We host exclusive mentorship nights. Rare scroll access. Observation privileges most can't even dream of. Our elders would be delighted to see new talent. Especially from fresh minds willing to learn."
The girls giggled nervously, half-flattered, half-confused, but too caught up in his practiced charm to walk away. One of them asked, "Wouldn't your elders mind bringing in outsiders?"
Darian's smile twitched. "Of course, we maintain decorum. I'd never overstep. They'd skin me alive if I brought shame to the House. But learning is sacred. And I'm confident they'd make exceptions. For the right learners."
Alex, watching from a distance, narrowed his eyes slightly.
"Jamie," he said quietly.
"Already watching him," she replied. "Kelvran's junior recruitment patterns have been weirdly aggressive. This is the third girl he's cornered this week. All unaligned."
Alex muttered, "Flag everyone involved. I want a full dossier."
He didn't stop walking. But his pace slowed just enough to glance at the interaction again. Darian's hand gestures were still too smooth. The pitch was still too familiar. And the girls—naive, clearly unprepared for the slimy professionalism—were smiling uncertainly.
And Darian wasn't alone in this weird theatre of barely-coded invitations.
At the far end of the hall, another junior—this one a girl draped in House Velshain silks—offered a folded scroll to a nervous transmutation student with the syrupy tone of someone promising access to divine knowledge. "House Velshain always appreciates unique insight... You'd be amazed what we can teach you about how mana interacts with the mind. If you're open to learning. Our manor library even has private study rooms. Very... focused." Her laugh tinkled with a practiced innocence that made Alex's skin crawl.
Further down, two boys from House Drevar leaned against a doorway, whispering rapidly to a trio of beast tamers about an upcoming "night trial" their House would be hosting—purely for educational purposes, of course. The pamphlet one of them handed out had way too much perfume and way too little detail.
And then there was the absolute masterpiece: a bright-eyed junior from House Sorrel, carrying a tray of lemon-glazed mana buns and telling passing students they were welcome to an "exclusive tea-and-theory" circle if they "liked their minds stretched and their boundaries tested." She smiled too much. No one should smile that much while holding baked goods and social bait.
Even some of the female juniors were passing out invitations like high society courtesans who'd swapped elegance for desperation, only with just enough poise to keep their House elders from publicly disowning them.
"It's not quite a party," one girl said sweetly to her quarry, a rune-engraver fresh from a trial chamber, "but our House does enjoy... stimulating conversations. Especially with talent like yours."
Alex muttered under his breath, "House-sponsored honey traps. Fantastic."
"This pattern's spreading," Jamie murmured. "We're mapping it all. Nearly every House with recruitment power has juniors peddling selective mentorship access like mana-flavored candy."
"Some of these people are barely old enough to spell 'integrity,'" Alex replied. "And now they're pitching 'learning experiences' like second-rate bards."
He stopped near a column and leaned against it, watching as another boy offered a supposedly 'rare' summoning scroll in exchange for someone attending a House-hosted debate.
Alex narrowed his eyes. "Track invitations. Record names. And Jamie?"
"Yeah?"
"Start building a chart of which Houses are doing what—and how far they're willing to push it. Something's off. And I want to know why it suddenly feels like we're in the academic version of a black market meat auction."
Jamie snorted. "Well, they do say the pen is mightier than the sword. Apparently, it just depends on how many strings are attached to the invitation."
Alex turned away, pulse steady, but mind already racing.
Weird behavior. Fake charm. Promises with a sheen of propriety and the stench of desperation.
Something had changed.
And Alex was going to find out what.
—
By evening, the tone of the day had shifted.
Not publicly. Not obviously.
But it started small—missing faces, familiar voices that didn't echo in the usual corridors, groupings that felt emptier than they had in the morning. The halls of the Academy didn't feel quieter... but when Alex stopped to count, to really look, the numbers didn't add up.
House Kelvran's juniors? Vanished.
Not in a dramatic, cloak-fluttering sort of way. Not expelled or extracted. Just... missing. Slipped between the hours like smoke through a sieve.
Alex stood at the central stairwell of Section E, arms folded. His gaze drifted across the mezzanine where Darian Velthar had been hours ago, peddling smiles like they were enchanted commodities. Now? Empty.
Not just the people—the traces were gone. Banners retracted. Tokens cleared. It was like they'd never been there. Like the morning had been a collective hallucination Arcana cooked up between breakfast and bureaucracy.
Or worse.
A faint whisper flared in his earpiece.
"Jamie?" Alex said sharply.
Her tone came crisp. "You're not imagining it. Our records just glitched. Kelvran's junior roster reset five entries. The faces are blanked. Attendance logs overwritten. Their student IDs now say 'Reassigned for Internal House Prioritization.'"
"Five?" Alex muttered, then corrected himself. "No. Nine. There were nine of them."
Jamie hesitated. "You sure?"
"I watched six of them hand out invitations. Three more shadowed them. Don't tell me that wasn't deliberate."
Another pause. Then Jamie's voice dropped an octave. "Alex... I checked the projection records. None of those interactions are there anymore. Footage was edited."
Alex's stomach tightened.
He straightened and turned, already pacing toward the upper atrium. "Start combing through cross-House alliances. I want to know which Houses had sudden logistics changes today. Clerical edits. Schedule updates. Anything with Kelvran's digital fingerprints."
"You got it. I'll ping Orin and Jamie-2 to scrub deeper. Also... Alex?"
"Yeah?"
"I don't think this is isolated. We've got two other Houses showing sudden junior attrition. Drevar and Sorrel."
Alex didn't respond right away. He was already shifting into hunt mode, the exhaustion from earlier buried under a familiar burn of frustration.
The fake charm. The sweet poison offers. The 'mentorship' smiles with bite beneath.
And now?
Erased.
"Someone's covering tracks," he muttered. "Sloppy enough to leave a trail, but smart enough to fake elegance while doing it."
He tapped his comm-crystal again. "Call Davor. Tell him I want a shadow trace put on every remaining junior connected to the suspect Houses. No more passive observation."
"Already done," Jamie replied.
Alex didn't smile. Not this time.
He just whispered to himself as he moved through the halls, eyes scanning, mind already sharpening into the blade it needed to be.
"Let's see what you're hiding, House Kelvran. Because whatever it is... it's not going to stay buried."