“Who could be so reckless as to provoke the Head Hunters mercenary group?”

  “They’ve always been arrogant, relying on the Punk family’s backing. I wonder which formidable figure they’ve crossed this time.”

  “I, for one, would love to see them suffer a little. One of their men whipped me for no reason just yesterday—heavens, I was completely innocent!”

  “They’re searching so frantically now. Who knows if they’ll find what they’re looking for. I just hope the brave soul who stood up to them has luck on their side.”

  Such conversations spread through every street and alley. Even when mercenaries lashed out to silence a few loud mouths, it did nothing to quell the public’s fervent gossip.

  With the constabulary present, the mercenaries dared not take things too far—after all, that was an official institution.

  Inside the serene confines of Mace Academy, however, none of that chaos could be felt.

  The modest stone walls kept the town’s clamor at bay, allowing students to immerse themselves fully in study.

  In one classroom, Mr. Smith, his hair silvered with age, had just concluded his lecture and was gathering his books when a young girl’s voice called out:

  “Mr. Smith, please wait a moment.”

  He turned at the door to find Bonnie standing there. Recognizing her, he smiled warmly.

  “Oh, Bonnie. What is it? Did you not understand something from the lesson?”

  Bonnie was one of his better students—bright, cheerful, and endearing—so Mr. Smith didn’t mind lingering a little longer.

  “Not exactly.” Bonnie hesitated, her tone shy.

  “Then what is it?”

  The other students were already chatting and packing up, paying little attention to their conversation.

  “Mr. Smith, you’ve always struck me as a man of vast knowledge and learning. I believe you must know many things.”

  Her flattery pleased him, though he replied modestly, “Haha, I’ve merely lived long enough to study a bit more. Hardly the mark of a scholar. Tell me then, what is it you wish to ask?”

  “Well…” Bonnie paused before speaking again. “Mr. Smith, do you happen to know of a place called Bayek Town?”

  His expression froze slightly, brows knitting as he searched his memory.

  Seeing his hesitation, a flicker of disappointment crossed Bonnie’s face.

  Stolen story; please report.

  After a moment, he said uncertainly, “I think I may have heard that name when I first arrived here, but only in passing. Why do you ask?”

  “Oh, nothing in particular. I just happened to hear it recently and grew curious,” she replied quickly, knowing she wouldn’t glean much more from him.

  Mr. Smith gave her a long, thoughtful look before waving his hand. “Very well. If that’s all, I must be going.”

  “Goodbye, sir.”

  Watching him leave, Bonnie turned toward the window, lost in thought. A minute later, as though making up her mind, she walked over to Layla’s desk.

  Layla was reading quietly. When Bonnie approached, she looked up.

  “Bonnie? What’s the matter?”

  Bonnie opened her mouth to speak but caught herself, glancing warily around.

  Layla’s beauty was well-known throughout the academy; most of the boys in class were constantly stealing glances her way.

  Not wanting to be overheard, Bonnie tugged at her friend’s sleeve and whispered,

  “Layla, let’s go outside. I need to talk to you.”

  Perplexed but obliging, Layla followed her out of the classroom.

  Once they were sure no one was watching, Layla sighed. “Alright, Bonnie, what’s this about? I still need to review for the next lesson.”

  Bonnie’s face grew serious, her tone low and secretive. “Layla… will you come with me to Bayek Town again?”

  Layla blinked, momentarily stunned. “You? You want to go back there? Weren’t you terrified of that place?”

  Their last visit to Bayek had been anything but pleasant—it had left scars, especially on Bonnie.

  Layla had no idea how her friend had recovered from that ordeal, much less why she would want to return.

  “Well…” Bonnie’s voice softened. “Mr. Glenn came to see me.”

  She spoke hesitantly, fearing Layla might not believe her—or what Glenn had said.

  They both knew magic existed, yet neither had truly encountered it firsthand.

  “Mr. Glenn?” Layla asked, puzzled. “What does he have to do with this?”

  Then realization dawned on her. “Ah, I see. He must’ve said something to you—something that helped you, didn’t he?”

  Layla remembered mentioning Bonnie’s troubles to Mr. Glenn once. Perhaps he had already intended to visit and aid her back then.

  What a kind man, she thought.

  “Tell me everything, Bonnie. What did you two talk about that day?” she urged eagerly.

  Surprised by her friend’s curiosity, Bonnie nevertheless recounted their conversation in full detail, trying her best to recall every word.

  By the time she finished, the next class had already begun—neither of them had noticed.

  When Bonnie’s story ended, Layla’s eyes were gleaming with the same restless excitement.

  “Then let’s visit him tomorrow!” Layla exclaimed, her enthusiasm infectious.

  Bonnie blinked, momentarily flustered. “A-alright,” she murmured.

  Still chatting animatedly, the two girls made their way back toward the classroom.

  As they turned the corner, a group of boys approached from the opposite direction.

  At the front was Myer, who greeted them with a teasing smile. “Layla, you skipped class? That’s not like you. Lucky for you, Mr. Demond didn’t notice.”

  “Thank you for your concern,” Layla replied with an easy smile. “Bonnie and I had something to take care of.”

  The boys behind Myer jumped in eagerly, each vying for Layla’s attention with exaggerated courtesy or clumsy charm.

  Layla, long accustomed to such scenes, merely smiled politely. Her beauty drew attention everywhere she went, and adolescent boys never missed a chance to show off what they thought was wit or gallantry.

  She found it all rather childish, though she was too kind to wound their fragile egos.

  Among the boys she actually got along with—Myer and Burke, for instance—at least showed a measure of maturity and restraint.

  “Layla, what were you two talking about?” Myer asked again.

  Before Layla could respond, a familiar voice called from behind.

  Everyone turned, their faces brightening instantly.

  “Perlnas?” Layla uttered the name in surprise.

  The girl who approached was dressed in elegant finery, exuding noble grace.

  At once, the chatter ceased.

  Compared to Layla—the beloved beauty of the commoners—Perlnas was of another world entirely, one none of the boys dared even dream of approaching.