The highest floor of the First Academic Building was not listed on any public map.

  A narrow staircase led to a reinforced door, and beyond it—darkness. No windows. No banners. Only a long obsidian table illuminated by a single hanging light that cast sharp shadows across the room.

  Nine figures were present.

  At the head of the table sat Itsuki Shiraishi, the headmaster of Fiester Academy. Her hair was white, pulled back neatly, her posture straight despite her age. Her eyes—sharp, calculating—missed nothing.

  Around her sat the Eight Flags of the Kingdom, Fiester’s highest authorities.

  To her right sat the Captain of the Royal Knights, Gideon Falk, clad not in armor but in a dark uniform, his presence heavy and unyielding.

  One of the figures cleared his throat.

  “The emergency council of the Eight Flags will now begin,” said Hoshin Kurobane, the gold flag, his voice deep and ceremonial.

  Itsuki folded her hands atop the table. “Thank you. We have little time.”

  She looked around the room, meeting each gaze.

  “The distribution of Ashveil is expanding,” Itsuki began. “Faster than anticipated. More citizens—students included—are getting their hands on it.”

  A murmur rippled through the room.

  The blue flag, Elira Vayne, tilted her head. “Is this limited to Fiester?”

  “No,” Itsuki replied. “That is the problem. Reports confirm similar activity in neighboring kingdoms. This is not an isolated incident.”

  The yellow flag, Raiden Solcrest, clenched his jaw. “Then we are facing an organized network.”

  “Yes,” Itsuki said. “And their production has improved. The quality and quantity of Ashveil have increased significantly over the past few days.”

  Gideon frowned. “Meaning they’ve stabilized their process.”

  “Or found a better one,” added the Green Flag, Mireya Thorne.

  The Red flag, Valen Kyr, slammed a fist lightly against the table. “Then our first priority is containment.”

  “We’ve already failed at that,” said Lysandre Quill, the pink flag, adjusting his gloves. “Our patrols and schedules are being leaked.”

  Itsuki nodded. “Which brings us to our next point.”

  She straightened slightly.

  “From this moment on, patrols, investigations, and task forces will operate under compartmentalized orders.”

  Raiden raised an eyebrow. “You mean—”

  “No one knows the full plan,” Itsuki finished. “Teams will not be told their objectives in advance. They will receive instructions only when needed.”

  Elira frowned. “That will cause confusion.”

  “It will stop leaks,” Gideon said firmly.

  Hoshin nodded. “If someone is feeding information to the enemy, they can only leak what they know.”

  Valen crossed his arms. “Risky. But necessary.”

  Mireya leaned forward. “What about the cult?”

  The room grew colder.

  Itsuki’s voice lowered. “The cult calls itself The Ashen Cradle.”

  Several Flags stiffened.

  “They believe Fiester Academy is the foundation of the kingdom’s power,” Itsuki continued. “And that by collapsing it, the rest will follow.”

  Raiden muttered, “Fanatics.”

  “They are not acting alone,” Lysandre said. “Their dead members in the sewers—someone cleaned them up.”

  Gideon’s jaw tightened. “Which means the syndicate producing Ashveil and the Ashen Cradle are cooperating. Or using each other.”

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  Silence fell.

  Then Gideon spoke again, carefully.

  “If Ashveil is so effective… perhaps we should consider using it ourselves. Controlled usage. If it’s easy to acquire—”

  “No.”

  Itsuki’s voice cut through the room like steel.

  “Absolutely not,” Valen snapped.

  Elira shook her head. “That drug erodes willpower. It is poison.”

  Mireya added, “Using it makes us no different from them.”

  Gideon exhaled. “I had to ask.”

  “You should not have,” Itsuki replied sharply. “This council exists to protect Fiester, not damn it.”

  The captain bowed his head slightly. “Understood.”

  Itsuki closed her eyes briefly. “This war will not be won quickly.”

  She opened them again.

  “But it will be fought in shadows.”

  The chalk scratched against the board.

  “Today’s lesson will cover Applied Political Ethics,” the teacher said.

  Kaoru sat by the window, notebook open—but her mind was elsewhere.

  Ashveil… the cult… the leaks…

  Her pen paused mid-sentence.

  How deep does it go?

  She glanced around her classroom. Students listened, took notes, whispered quietly.

  Is it someone here?

  The bell rang.

  Class ended.

  Kaoru packed her things and stood.

  That evening, she followed her new patrol route—personally assigned by Miyazuki Ashen.

  She walked outside the male dormitories, hands in her blazer pockets, eyes scanning shadows, doorways, rooftops.

  Nothing.

  Too quiet.

  She frowned.

  If I were hiding something…

  Kaoru moved to the side of the building and began climbing the external stairs to the roof.

  Wind greeted her.

  She stepped onto the rooftop—and froze.

  In the distance, atop the Third Academic Building, she saw a silhouette.

  A figure.

  And then—

  They jumped.

  “What—?!”

  Kaoru sprinted across the rooftop, leaped down the stairs, and ran full speed toward the third building. Her boots pounded against stone.

  She reached the spot.

  Nothing.

  No sound. No body. No trace.

  “…Gone?” she whispered.

  Her eyes darted around.

  Then—

  “Kaoru?”

  She turned.

  Another student council member approached, amber lantern light behind her. Hana Kurosawa—third-year, reconnaissance division.

  “Hana,” Kaoru said quickly. “Did you see anyone?”

  Hana shook her head. “No. What happened?”

  “I saw someone jump from the roof,” Kaoru said. “But they vanished.”

  Hana’s brows knit together. “…That’s not possible.”

  Kaoru looked toward the ground. “Unless there’s another way out.”

  “Like underground,” Hana murmured.

  Kaoru nodded. “Secret passageways. Sewers. Something.”

  Hana sighed softly. “We’re not ready for that yet.”

  Kaoru exhaled. “…Yeah.”

  They stood in silence for a moment, the campus peaceful under the evening sky.

  Lanterns glowed.

  Students laughed in the distance.

  For now, nothing happened.

  And that—somehow—felt more unsettling than danger.

  Kaoru straightened. “Let’s report what we saw. No conclusions yet.”

  Hana smiled faintly. “Careful as always.”

  They walked back together.

  Above them, the academy stood calm.

  Below it—

  Secrets waited.