As the two left the infirmary, a loud growl echoed through the corridor, causing Ethan to stiffen and blush in embarrassment.

  "Hmph, it seems someone’s hungry..." Eliza commented, casting him a sly, mocking gnce.

  Ethan didn’t even bother denying it.

  Instead, he offered casually, "Wanna grab something to eat together?"

  But Eliza shook her head, her expression turning distant again.

  "I want some time alone," she said simply, turning on her heel and walking away without even saying goodbye.

  Ethan watched her retreating back for a moment, then shrugged it off.

  Oh well. No use forcing it.

  He headed toward the canteen before all the food vanished.

  Upon arriving, he immediately spotted Daniel—grinning like a proud father who had just seen his son win a medal.

  Ethan narrowed his eyes suspiciously, already thinking up excuses for whatever ridiculous assumptions Daniel had cooked up.

  But then he noticed Misha.

  She was staring at him too—but with a completely different expression.

  Not amusement.

  Something more... serious.

  To hell with Daniel. Misha takes priority here.

  Ethan quickly loaded up his pte and made a beeline for Misha’s table.

  Without hesitation, he sat down beside her.

  The moment he did, Misha stunned not only him but also her two friends—Celica and Anya—who were sitting nearby.

  Without a word, Misha threw her arms around Ethan and hugged him tightly.

  "M-Misha!?" Ethan stammered, freezing mid-movement.

  Sniff sniff.

  Like a determined little dog, Misha buried her face against his shirt and sniffed him all over.

  Her nose wrinkled, her brow furrowed—until finally, after a thorough inspection, she pulled back slightly.

  Only his left arm carried a faint trace of Eliza’s scent.

  "Pass," Misha announced firmly, as if judging the results of an inspection.

  Before Ethan could even react, she leaned in and gave him a quick, soft kiss on the lips—leaving Celica and Anya staring so hard their eyes looked ready to pop out of their sockets.

  Misha, utterly unfazed, clung to Ethan’s free arm possessively, hugging it tightly against her body as if trying to erase the remnants of her imaginary rival’s scent.

  It was clear to everyone: she was marking her territory.

  Ethan sighed internally.

  It couldn’t be helped.

  Resigning himself, he simply shook his head and began eating with his one free arm—the one Misha wasn’t fiercely guarding.

  Across the table, Daniel gave him two very enthusiastic thumbs-up, grinning like an idiot.

  Ethan pointedly ignored him.

  Misha didn’t let go of Ethan even after they finished eating.

  In fact, if anything, she clung to him even more tightly as they headed toward their next css—Potion Crafting.

  Her hands never left him; she kept his arm trapped against her chest as they walked through the corridors, ignoring the amused and curious looks they drew from other students.

  Every time Ethan shifted, trying to create even a little distance, Misha would simply tighten her grip or shift even closer.

  At this point, it was less like she was clinging and more like she was attaching herself to him.

  "You're going to make it hard to move, you know," Ethan muttered under his breath.

  Misha just pouted and hugged his arm tighter.

  "You’re mine," she said, her voice quiet but fiercely determined.

  Ethan sighed, resigned, and let himself be dragged along.

  By the time they reached the Potion Crafting cssroom, Misha had glued herself so firmly to his side that it took a gentle tug just for him to free enough of his arm to open the door.

  Inside, several students were already settling in—but immediately, Ethan’s eyes were drawn to one person.

  Eliza.

  She was already seated near the middle row, calm and composed, casually flipping through her notes as if she hadn't a care in the world.

  But the moment Misha spotted her, she stiffened, clutching Ethan’s arm even tighter.

  For a few tense seconds, the air between the two girls crackled with silent hostility.

  Eliza barely reacted—only offering the briefest, disinterested gnce before returning to her notes, perfectly composed.

  Misha, however, glued herself even closer to Ethan, as if physically shielding him from the threat only she could see.

  As they moved to an empty desk, the cssroom filled with sharp, low whispers. And this time, no one even pretended to be subtle.

  "When the hell did that happen?"

  "Ugh, is she that desperate? Clinging onto him like her life depends on it."

  "Seriously. It's pathetic."

  "Yeah, and look at him—he’s just letting it happen like some whipped mutt."

  "Please. Bet he’s loving every second of it. Acting like he's some big shot now."

  "Not like he could ever nd someone like Eliza anyway. Might as well settle for whatever's willing."

  "Disgusting. Both of them."

  The words were sharp, cruel—and aimed at both him and Misha without the slightest mercy.

  Ethan, sliding into his seat with Misha practically sitting on top of him, kept his face carefully neutral.

  He wasn't surprised, honestly.

  He still remembered his first few days at the Academy—how fast rumors had spread, how harsh the whispers had been when he'd drawn attention without even meaning to.

  Yeah, he thought dryly. Figures.

  In a way, he had known this day would come eventually.

  No matter how careful he tried to be, rumors were inevitable.

  Better now than ter, he reasoned, stealing a gnce at Misha clinging stubbornly to his arm.

  With the inter-academy tournament approaching, the news cycle would shift soon enough.

  The chaos today would eventually die down, buried under bigger, louder events.

  It was just a matter of enduring it.

  Misha, for her part, pressed herself even closer, burying her face slightly against his shoulder.

  She didn’t say anything.

  She didn’t need to.

  Her grip said everything—desperation, fear, determination all tangled into one.

  Across the room, Eliza remained still, her presence looming silently but powerfully, even without doing a thing.

  And the gossip kept flying around them like arrows in a battlefield until the professor arrived

  As the old alchemist finally arrived—moving with slow, deliberate steps and carrying a heavy crate of supplies—Ethan leaned closer to Misha and whispered something quietly in her ear.

  Whatever he said had an immediate effect. Misha’s entire body jolted as if she’d been shocked. She let go of Ethan’s arm in a fsh, pulling away like she’d been burned, her face turning a brilliant, tomato-red shade.

  Satisfied, Ethan gave her a light, teasing pat on the head, then straightened up and focused on the front of the cssroom.

  Time to get serious.

  Potion Crafting had been surprisingly profitable for him recently; there was no reason today couldn't add a few more coins to his steadily growing savings.

  At the front of the css, Professor Corbin adjusted his thin-framed spectacles and cleared his throat.

  "Today’s assignment is simple," Professor Corbin announced in his usual calm, disinterested tone.

  He tapped the neat pile of scrolls stacked beside him on the desk.

  "You’ll be brewing a basic Fortification Tonic. The process is almost identical to the Recovery Mixture you made st time. If you succeeded then, you should find this manageable. If you failed..." He paused, his lips curling into a slight, amused smile as he recalled the previous css. "...well, just pay someone competent to help you. Worked well enough st time, didn’t it?"

  Several students stiffened, casting quick gnces around the room—some even darting guilty looks toward Ethan, who remained perfectly still and innocent-looking.

  The reminder was clear: Last time, Ethan had quietly "sold" his brewing know-how to more than a few desperate cssmates for a tidy profit, and though Professor Corbin had obviously noticed, he hadn’t done anything to stop it.

  A stunned silence followed. Was he encouraging that kind of behavior!?

  The students exchanged uneasy gnces. What kind of professor told them it was fine to just buy their way through a lesson?

  As if reading their thoughts, Corbin continued, adjusting his spectacles zily:

  "Why so surprised? Never heard of an adventurer hiring an alchemist? It's common practice. Sure, you’re here to learn alchemy—but if you can’t manage it, I’m not going to waste my time forcing you."

  He shifted back in his chair, tone perfectly smooth.

  "This css is optional enrichment. Useful, yes—but not required for your careers. You're here to be adventurers, not full-time potion brewers. Had that not been the case..." He smiled again—thin, sharp, and a little cruel, "...less than five of you would still be left in this room."

  A cold shiver passed through the cssroom.

  Were they really that bad?

  Were only a handful even capable of mastering true alchemy?

  Still, as harsh as it sounded, everyone knew deep down that Corbin had a point.

  In the field, it didn’t matter if you brewed your own potions, bought them at a guild market, or hired a specialist.

  All that mattered was results.

  Some students sat back, nodding slowly, accepting it.

  Others squirmed in their seats, wanting to protest but having no real argument.

  Most simply stayed silent, stunned by how bluntly the old professor had stripped away the romantic ideals they had about being self-sufficient heroes.

  Regardless of the reactions, Corbin didn’t care.

  He had already cracked open a thick alchemical manual and was flipping through it with zy interest, leaving the students to scramble and figure things out for themselves.

  The css rolled forward, the weight of his words settling heavy over everyone.

  Regardless of the reactions, Corbin didn’t care. He flipped a page in his book zily, then spoke again, voice steady but utterly disinterested:

  "For those actually pnning to work, listen up."

  He tapped the pile of scrolls again.

  "Crush the ironroot. Boil it. Add nightbloom essence slowly. Mix for ten minutes. Stir counterclockwise when cooling. Watch the color."

  He gnced around the room, as if daring someone to ask for more.

  "If you screw it up, you’ll know. If you don’t, you will get something like this."

  He took out a honey colored potion from his pocket and showed to the css, before leaving it over his table.

  He leaned back in his chair with a slight, zy shrug.

  "Ingredients are over there. Try not to set anything on fire."

  Without another word, he cracked open his book again, clearly finished with any notion of guidance.

  The students sat frozen for a moment, exchanging uncertain looks—then, realizing no further expnation was coming, they scrambled into motion, gathering supplies and setting up their cauldrons.

  Ethan allowed himself a small smirk.

  Typical Corbin.

  Inside his heart, Corbin was becaming his favorite professor.

  He rolled up his sleeves, ready to work.

  That day, Ethan managed to earn another 200 silver by helping out a few struggling students. It wasn’t anywhere near the two golden coins he had made before—but that had been a rare, exceptional case. He wasn’t about to compin. Silver was still silver, and it all added up.

  As the css wrapped up and students began filing out, Ethan remembered the promise he had made earlier to Misha. But first, he needed to clean up. Badly.

  His clothes were stained with herbs, potion spshes, and the faint scent of alchemical smoke. Not exactly ideal for an evening date.

  He made his way back to the dorms, took a fast, much-needed bath to wash off the lingering smell of herbs from him, and quickly changed into new clothes.

  Half an hour ter, refreshed and feeling almost human again, Ethan arrived at the Academy gates, only to find Misha was already there.

  The moment she spotted him, her face lit up, practically bouncing in pce with barely restrained excitement.

  Today, she wasn’t wearing her usual uniform. Instead, she had chosen something far more casual—but somehow far more dangerous.

  A light, off-the-shoulder blouse in soft cream fabric clung gently to her figure, the neckline loose enough to reveal a teasing glimpse of her colrbone and the curve of one shoulder. Her skirt was short and fluttery, a dark navy color that ended several inches above her knees, swaying lightly with every small movement she made. She wore simple, low-heeled sandals that showed off her slim legs, and her hair—usually tied up for csses—was loose today, cascading around her shoulders in soft waves.

  The overall effect was effortless.Casual, rexed... but Ethan couldn’t deny that it was also subtly, almost dangerously seductive.

  She didn’t look like she was trying to impress anyone.

  Which somehow made it even worse.

  Ethan cleared his throat and forced himself to meet her eyes—and not let them wander.

  Without wasting a moment, Misha grabbed his hand, her fingers cing through his with a naturalness that sent a jolt through him, and the two of them set off toward the market, the early afternoon sun casting long, zy shadows across the path.

  As night began to fall, the two of them finally arrived—not at the fancy restaurant from before, but at a cozy little café. The same café where Daniel had once dragged him along with Cra and Fiona.

  Ethan was relieved. The dessert prices here were definitely steep, but nothing compared to the seafood monstrosity Misha had ordered during their st outing.

  His wallet should survive this time... probably.

  Still, out of habit, Ethan discreetly checked the contents of his coin pouch under the table. Seeing how much lighter it looked, he couldn't help but sigh internally.

  When did so much money start feeling so small? he wondered bitterly. Life is made of sacrifices, I guess.

  But when he gnced up and saw Misha’s bright smile as she scanned the menu, all his doubts melted away. If a few silver coins could buy her happiness, it was a trade he’d make every single time.

  After fulfilling the stomach of his dear partner, they left the café hand in hand, strolling leisurely along the main road while looking for a nice pce to finish the date.

  The evening breeze was cool against their skin, the marketpce gradually emptying as the hour grew te.

  That was when Ethan spotted her.

  A familiar figure walking a short distance ahead—Angeline Fleur.

  Christopher’s one and only childhood friend.

  Maybe not his only childhood friend, but certainly the only one Ethan had met.

  She was walking alongside several other girls probably from her css, chatting animatedly. But something about the scene immediately put Ethan on edge.

  It wasn’t Angeline that worried him. It was the way the other girls smiled around her—too sweet, too polished. There was something off, something that prickled at Ethan's instincts.

  Trouble.

  Ethan’s immediate reaction was to sprint back to the Academy and find Christopher. Warn him. Get help.

  But reality quickly crushed that thought. He knew his limits better than anyone. He was slow. He cked stamina. Even if he ran, he’d never make it back in time.

  Worse, he couldn’t just abandon Misha out here alone at night. Even the idea made his stomach twist painfully.

  There was only one option left.

  Swallowing his frustration, Ethan turned to Misha and expined the situation quickly but seriously. He told her about Christopher’s and Daniel’s usual training grounds, and even gave her their room numbers in case they'd already returned to the dorms.

  "Your mission’s simple," he said, squeezing her hands. "Run back to school. Find Christopher. Bring him here as fast as you can."

  Misha’s eyes widened in arm, but she nodded fiercely, understanding the urgency without needing more expnation.

  Before she sprinted off, Ethan pulled her close and kissed her—a quick but heartfelt goodbye.

  "Be careful," he whispered.

  "You too," she said, her voice tight.

  With that, she turned and bolted down the road, disappearing into the night.