Deep beneath the academy, in a hidden chamber of the dungeon, Howard snapped.

  “Damn it. Who let Margot out early, and who led her straight to Professor Innis.”

  His eyes were bloodshot, veins standing out on his forehead as his chest heaved like an enraged beast.

  He shot an arm out and swept everything off the desk in one violent motion.

  Glass shattered with sharp, bright cracks, and enchanted tools hit the floor with dull, heavy thuds that echoed through the empty room.

  He kept smashing and muttering under his breath, words blurred by rage, until the chamber turned into a mess of splinters and scattered debris.

  Only then did he drop into his chair.

  He stared up at the ceiling, hollow-eyed, still breathing hard, his body trembling now and then as the anger refused to fully leave.

  After a moment, he spoke toward the shadows.

  “Hmph. Or what, there’s a rat among us, someone Antonio planted to throw off our plan.”

  From the silent darkness came a voice, low and unhurried, carrying a strange calm that felt like it had drifted in from some ancient place.

  “Heh. The only people who know the whole plan are you and me. So you’re saying I sold you out.”

  Howard clenched his jaw.

  “Of course not. If you wanted to betray us, we never would’ve made it this far, we never would’ve gotten established in this dungeon in the first place. It’s just…”

  The shadow cut in.

  “The guard watching Margot is dead. Most likely Margot killed him during feeding. As for why she went after Professor Innis.”

  The voice paused, almost amused.

  “Monsters are like demonkin, they’re drawn to nature magic by instinct. Margot simply didn’t realize how absurdly strong Innis was, and that one called Rosalie, hm, some kind of saint, wasn’t ordinary either.”

  Howard’s expression tightened.

  “So you’re telling me it was all just bad luck.”

  “Even if it wasn’t luck,” the shadow replied, “even if there really is a mole nearby, they couldn’t have reported to Antonio in time.”

  “You know how it works,” the voice continued. “Those people only receive what they need, when they’re actively on task.”

  Howard seemed half convinced, but the weight in his chest still didn’t lift.

  “Then what now. We keep going.”

  “Of course,” the shadow said. “And faster.”

  “Antonio’s noticed us,” it went on. “Gather everyone. The ritual has to start, and it has to start sooner.”

  Footsteps retreated into the dark.

  Howard watched the shadows for a long beat, then muttered to himself.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  “Fine. We’ll do it your way, Mr. Q.”

  The scene shifted back to Enid.

  The moment the afternoon bell rang and the cafeteria doors opened, Enid was almost always the first one inside.

  She didn’t teach in the afternoons, so as long as she timed it right, she could beat the rush and get the freshest food.

  Because once the students poured in, they turned into starving wolves, and the best dishes vanished in seconds.

  Enid’s eating habits were… unusual, at least by elf standards.

  For one thing, unlike most high elves, she didn’t avoid meat at all.

  And more than heavy staples, she preferred whatever went with them.

  She rarely chose filling mains like bread or pie.

  Instead, she went straight for two hot dishes, always one meat dish and one vegetable dish.

  Soup was nonnegotiable.

  If it was the thick kind meant for dipping, she’d take a little bread with it, and she didn’t mind chilled soups either.

  Cold sides were flexible.

  As long as it cut the grease and cooled her down, a salad or a cold platter worked fine.

  Dessert mattered too.

  Enid almost never said no to sweets, and she usually picked two or three different kinds.

  She tried a wide range of foods, but the portions were small.

  After all, she was a nature elf, she could survive on sunlight alone if she had to.

  She just liked the novelty and simple satisfaction that came with eating.

  And oddly enough, she had a talent for picking the best dishes.

  Later arrivals only needed to glance at what Professor Innis was eating to know what was worth grabbing that day.

  Today was no different.

  Enid sat quietly in a corner, enjoying dinner.

  Right as she was happily eating, a woman’s exhausted voice drifted in from behind her, and it was clearly aimed at her.

  “Oh… Professor Innis. What a coincidence. You’re eating here too.”

  Enid turned around and nearly jumped.

  The woman holding a tray was Caroline, and she looked so drained she was practically a walking corpse.

  “Dean Caroline,” Enid blurted. “What happened to you. You look, uh, different than usual.”

  Caroline swayed into the seat across from her.

  Her hands weren’t steady, and soup sloshed from the bowl onto her beige robe, leaving a glaring stain.

  That wasn’t the only spot.

  Looking closer, Enid realized the robe was dirty in several places, and Caroline, who normally kept herself immaculate, clearly hadn’t changed or cared for her appearance in a while.

  The dark circles under her eyes were brutal.

  She wasn’t even wearing her usual basic makeup, and seeing her like this in public felt unreal.

  Caroline shoved a mug of hot chocolate into her mouth like it was medicine and tried to laugh it off.

  “Mm. Because of the monster incident, I’ve been keeping my students safe, plus I’m responsible for inspecting and repairing the academy’s anti-dark-magic measures. Just a little busy. Haha… ha…”

  It was clearly more than “a little.”

  If the academy’s most polished, strict, famously beautiful dean looked like this, the workload had to be a nightmare.

  As they talked, Enid learned Caroline wasn’t only fixing defenses.

  As dean, she also had to assign tasks to her faculty, keep up with her own research, and still run her classes.

  Just listening made Enid feel like she couldn’t breathe.

  Caroline, wearing the heavy look of someone who hadn’t slept properly in days, forced a smile anyway.

  “It’s not that dramatic. It’s my job,” she said. “It’s a special period. I’m not the only one swamped, the other deans aren’t any better.”

  “My teaching assistants help with classes,” she added. “Thanks to them, I’m still managing.”

  Caroline glanced at Enid.

  “Speaking of which, are you planning to take on any TAs.”

  “TAs,” Enid repeated, genuinely confused.

  Caroline explained it simply.

  “A professor personally selects a few strong students as assistants,” she said. “They help organize tasks during class, handle simple work, or support basic parts of your research.”

  “In return, you give them course credit,” she continued, “and you teach them advanced material you wouldn’t cover in normal lectures.”

  Enid nodded.

  “So they help with the routine work, and I mentor them beyond the standard curriculum.”

  Caroline confirmed with a tired little nod.

  Enid didn’t feel overwhelmed right now, but having a few students share the daily load didn’t sound like a bad idea.

  She asked if a newly hired professor was allowed to appoint TAs.

  Caroline said yes, and promised she’d have her own assistant prepare the paperwork and bring it to Enid later.

  After that, they fell quiet.

  Caroline finished her meal at record speed, said goodbye, and staggered out of the cafeteria, and Enid honestly worried she might collapse and fall asleep right on the floor.

  Not long after, Enid finished eating too.

  She tidied herself up, returned to her office, and worked while waiting for the forms from Caroline’s assistant.

  Once she had the TA application paperwork in hand, Enid already had a few candidates in mind.

  Still, she decided she’d ask during the next class and see who actually wanted the role.