I stormed out of the office, boiling with rage. That Grey wasn’t a necromancer — he was undead himself. A vampire. He’d drain your blood and wring out your soul if you still had one.

  I didn’t even notice Mannik stepping out behind me, ledger in hand.

  “Hey, Malinka,” he called.

  He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching me with amused curiosity.

  “If it helps at all,” he said, approaching, “Professor Grey treats everyone like that. He doesn’t particularly like people.”

  “What,” I said dryly, “does he have… different tastes?”

  Mannik paused for half a second — just long enough. Then he laughed and shrugged.

  “Skeletons,” he corrected smoothly. “Always nearby. Don’t complain. Don’t argue. Clean, efficient - very… accommodating.”

  To my own surprise, I laughed too.

  For some reason, Elvira came to mind. It couldn’t be easy for her — she was still very much alive, after all. Mannik smiled, something genuinely kind flickering in his eyes.

  “This is your progress journal,” he said, handing it to me. “You’ll track your development there.”

  “They actually give grades?” I asked suspiciously, holding the journal like it might be contagious.

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  “Of course,” Mannik nodded, smiling. “Everything’s very proper. Just… darker.”

  “And what happens if I fail?” I squinted. “They don’t expel anyone here, right? I heard that.”

  “Mmm… you wouldn’t like it,” he said with a knowing grin. “Best avoid negative marks. Especially in necromancy.”

  He gestured down the corridor.

  “Come on, I’ll walk you to class. First day and all. These corridors are dark — you’ll get lost. You know how it is.”

  “I’ll take that offer,” I nodded, unexpectedly grateful for this strange but clearly decent guy. “And… thanks.”

  We were walking down the corridor toward the lecture hall when the postgraduate suddenly slowed and squinted, as if something had just occurred to him.

  “Hang on,” he said, turning to me with open curiosity. “What exactly did the professor mean when he said you enchanted Yarson? I mean… in what sense ‘enchanted’?”

  I sighed and shrugged, searching for the least alarming way to explain it. I was, after all, going to be attending his classes. No need to establish myself as a walking hazard on day one.

  “Quite literally,” I said. “I’m a dark lurer.”

  Mannik stopped mid-step and stared at me as if I’d just announced I was a malevolent spirit.

  “You’re joking,” he said. “So you’re not just an outworlder, you’ve got a rare gift as well?”

  There was genuine surprise in his voice. Possibly admiration. He was very close to smiling.

  Oh. So he didn’t think I was a problematic student. That was… nice. Unexpected, but nice. I didn’t share his enthusiasm though.

  “Yes,” I said, managing the sourest smile I had. “If by ‘rare gift’ you mean making zombies and skeletons fall violently in love with me, then absolutely. A real triumph.”

  Mannik snorted, barely holding back a laugh.

  “You really don’t appreciate your own potential,” he said. “You just need to learn how to control it.” He raised an eyebrow and added lightly, “Who knows? You might become the Academy’s first official sweetheart of the entire skeletal community.”

  “Marvellous,” I muttered. “Exactly what I’ve always dreamed of.”

  Then, putting on my most dramatic voice, I declared:

  “And so she married a skeleton and lived happily ever after in a crypt.”