Saving the school would have been easier as a cafeteria worker

The Academy's campus was a large area. It essentially functioned as a mini-city, and at no time was that more apparent than when trying to find a single person within its walls. He'd already crossed out several areas and was now at the most obvious of locations.

Cal prowled the library, peeking through the rows of shelves in search of his quarry.

He didn't have the time to comb through the entire breadth of documents provided by the spirit, at least, not in one sitting. Instead, he'd resorted to his speed-reading ability to pick out choice words like demon, core, tunnels, supply, supplier, motive, goal, etc.

The spirit's previous description of the trio of dealers being 'boring' wasn't that far off the mark. They each had a predictable schedule they stuck to. It was a point he was divided on. On the one hand, any deviations from that routine would raise alarm bells. On the other hand, it meant their operation was well organized.

That was a problem, especially with how the spirit maintained it was still unable to detect the modified cores or how they were appearing on campus.

Frankly speaking, Cal found that implausible. It was small, but the cores still radiated distinct magical signatures. Finding them should be well within its capabilities, especially with those freaky eyes it had.

Cal suppressed a shiver upon recalling the sensation. While its power may have resembled that of the relic's, it had a flavor that he found unpleasant. It was closer to what he felt from Urel's statues in the tower, only more aggressive, for lack of a better word.

Putting those thoughts aside for now, Cal ascended another staircase, bringing him to the fifth floor.

With the first exam cycle concluded, the place wasn't too busy. It meant that most of the study rooms were empty, as indicated by their open doors. Cal spotted a closed door, and he walked up to it. He attempted to twist the knob, finding it stuck.

That struck him as odd. All the other occupied rooms he'd barged into today had been unlocked. He didn't dwell on the reasoning. A quick surge of strength—followed by a snap—saw the obstacle solved.

Sticking his head through the doorway, he saw that two students were seated on the couch, books open in their laps. The guy had been midway through a yawn, one of his arms stretched out overhead. It was positioned to fall around the girl's shoulders, and from the way he froze, Cal gathered he'd interrupted something. The girl, for her part, looked blissfully unaware.

"Wrong room," Cal informed the pair, offering an apologetic smile to them. "Best of luck."

Cal retreated, closing the door behind him. A burst of speed saw him vacate the immediate area. Considering how temperamental these noble types were, he didn't count it as an overreaction.

"Note to self: respect the lock," Cal grumbled to himself.

He hoped that wouldn't be a trend. So far, all he'd had to deal with were a handful of students who, while surprised at his abrupt entrance, likely wrote him off as a blundering four-year.

To help with that illusion, he carried a pile of random books under one arm and artificially heated up his cheeks. He even had this whole script of bumbling through a description of Gregor before sheepishly making his exit.

Ah, Gregor—the core-addicted bastard, and the person he was hoping to corner alone. Granted, the presence of others wouldn't deter him at this point. He'd simply haul the boy away under some false pretense.

Waiting was simply not in the cards. He'd already decided to visit the stables tomorrow under the guise of searching for a potential beast, and before that, he wanted a clearer idea of Romero's temperament. Reading his itinerary and snooping from afar only did so much.

Cal traversed the floor, continuing his search. It was a shame he'd never been around when the boy had used his magic; otherwise, finding him would have been far easier. As things were, he made do with educated guesswork.

He moved toward the balcony, gazing at the center of the library. It was an open area, allowing him to see all the goings-on below. Sat on one of the desks was a clock, and he zoned in on it. It informed him he was running low on time.

Flicking his eyes up, Cal barely caught a glimpse of shiny blonde hair before it disappeared behind a bookcase. It was long, trailing behind its owner, who must have been moving in a rush.

The color was familiar, and he sped up as he plotted an intercept course. Despite her hurry, he managed to catch her before she got too far.

"Yo," he called out, nodding his head in greeting. "Late for something?"

Blonde hair whipped to the side as the girl's head snapped in his direction. Amber eyes glared at him, lacking any trace of their usual playfulness or curiosity.

"Bad time?" Cal asked in an apologetic tone.

Jessica's bangles clattered as she brushed her hair back. She shook her head slightly, and the ire directed at him eased.

"Callum," she addressed with a queer tone. "You chose an interesting time to disappear."

He'd hoped to open on another note but was prepared for this eventuality.

"Club trip," he said in his most convincing voice. "It ran a little longer than planned, and I just got back. I also lost my phone along the way, so that's fun."

It, along with the rest of the stuff they left at Duke Ferrum's place, was on its way back courtesy of the Steward.

"That explains some," she responded with a mutter before clicking her tongue. "Sorry. I must be spending too much time with my betrothed. How is your sister? We heard rumors she was involved in the conflict that woke us last week."

If involved was another way of saying she was a key driver behind it, then that rumor would be accurate. As the other culpable party, Cal was aware he was throwing stones from a glasshouse.

"She's doing okay," Cal said noncommittally. Alice might have had something to say about that if she were present. He hadn't exactly been gentle in his instruction. "Thanks for asking."

It occurred to him that she may have been the first one to ask about Alice. He'd need his phone to be sure of that.

"Good. That was horrid business. For it to occur so close to campus…" Her words drifted off, and a shudder traveled through her shoulders. She continued without acknowledging it. "I considered taking a leave of absence. However, that wouldn't be fair to Ryan. He's already behind a year because of me."

There was fear in her voice, and Cal made sure nothing showed on his face.

"Leaving for a while might not be the worst idea," he said, swiftly following up as he noticed her eyes narrow in his direction. "I've thought of it myself. Better safe than sorry, you know?"

He couldn't force an evacuation of the entire campus without dire repercussions, but offering an opinion to a few random students would be fine.

Jessica's eyes studied him, searching for something.

"Yes," she said after a beat of hesitation. "I'll take that into consideration."

Cal couldn't tell if she was taking him seriously or merely humoring him. He didn't let himself linger on it and touched on what he was actually after.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

"Have you seen Gregor?"

Her lips pressed thin at his question, and she half turned her head before facing him again.

"Unfortunately. I'm trying to be mindful of his position, but he's been so insufferable recently. As if we're the ones to blame." She paused, unclenching the fists she had made. Sighing, she waved her hand toward the staircase behind her. "He's on the twelfth floor, room seven. While I'd recommend against disturbing him, I won't stop you from doing so."

Was he spiraling?

"Gotcha," Cal said, feeling a degree of urgency. "I'll check in on him."

Jessica looked more resigned than relieved at his statement, her shoulders slumping.

"Then I wish you better luck than I." She fished her phone out of her blazer, her expression tightening at the time displayed. "You'll have to excuse me; I'll be late if I don't depart now."

Cal stepped out of the way, offering his thanks before following her directions. Before long, he stood in front of the study room door, opening it without resistance.

Gregor was hunched over a desk. There were pages all over the desk, each covered with messy handwriting.

"I told you to lea—" His heated voice was cut short, and his shaggy hair parted to reveal a confused expression. "You're not Jessica."

Cal took that as an invitation, closing the door behind him and taking a seat opposite the boy.

"Fear not," he said with confidence while eyeing the student carefully. "I won't talk you to death with the cultural significance of buttons."

Shortly after saying that, Cal realized he could do exactly that.

…was Jessica actually a good teacher?

"It's you," Gregor said, turning his eyes back to what he had been studying. "Ryan wins the bet, then. I figured you vanished because your family got rid of you."

His tone was mocking, but Cal didn't feel like he was the intended target. It didn't bother him either way, and he continued to inspect his fellow bastard.

"Honestly, it might be better if they did."

That was more forthcoming than he planned on being, but he didn't see the harm in it.

"Agreed," Gregor said, clipped and cold. "Better to get it over with."

Cal didn't offer any retort, peering at what Gregor had been working on. Reading it upside down was difficult, and his fingers reached over, pulling on the page closest to him, when Gregor's hand slammed onto the desk.

"Don't," the boy seethed, fingernails clawing into the desk. "Do that."

As someone able to obliterate most opponents with a single blow, Cal was not in the least bit intimidated. He stared at the boy blankly, weighing his options.

Before he could decide, Gregor cringed, wiping away the wood shavings he had created.

"Sorry," he said, holding his arms close to himself. "I'm not—I mean, I haven't. It's just aftereffects, okay?"

Rather than respond, Cal dragged the page over, reading its contents. It wasn't the unhinged ravings of someone bent on destroying their enemies—it was statistics.

"Just promise to give me a heads-up if you feel like carving anyone up and proclaiming the birth of a new era."

For some reason, Gregor looked at Cal as if he were the one at risk of losing his mind.

"Anyway, a little while ago, Ryan shared with me the names of some of your friends. Romero, Charles, and Elizabeth. What can you tell me about them?"

The boy's mouth parted before slamming shut. He shifted in his chair while his eyes darted erratically around the room.

"Is this some sort of test?" Gregor said defensively. "Did Ryan put you up to it?"

No, but would it be bad if he did? It just meant his friends were watching out for him.

"I'm asking for me," Cal clarified. "This isn't the kind of stuff I expected in a school for nobles, and I'm curious about the whys."

He felt that was an appropriate explanation. And if it wasn't? There wasn't anything Gregor could realistically do about it.

"Why?" Gregor repeated the questions in disbelief. "You don't get it. Imagine being able to do anything, being able to—"

Cal shook his hands in front of him, stopping the boy mid-rant.

"Not the cores, the people. Why would a bunch of puffed-up nobles risk selling them on campus? They can't be hurting for cash that much."

Gregor sat down from where he had half risen in his seat. He looked almost disappointed, and it took him some time to answer.

"You'd be surprised," he commented, retrieving the page Cal had stolen. "Nobles are all about keeping up appearances, and spares don't always have the allowance needed to do that. I'm pretty sure that's why Romero does it. He talked about it when I was short on funds, said he understood, and gave me a special deal."

Cal was absolutely sure the magical drug dealer had no ulterior motives and was working out of sympathy for Gregor. Yep, case closed, time to go home and report a job well done.

"Do they use?" he asked innocently, resting an arm on the table. "Their own cores, that is."

Gregor squirmed in his seat again, looking unsure of himself. His hands wrapped around his arms again, and it seemed to take him effort this time to let them rest at his side.

"Romero might. I'm not sure. Elizabeth definitely doesn't. She's not the type. And Charles… I don't know enough about him. I've only bought off of him once and he pretty much threw me out afterwards."

Interesting, because according to the spirit, Elizabeth was the most likely to kill herself. She was enrolled in courses relating to chemistry or alchemy. The lines around both fields were blurred. Her experiments weren't outright dangerous, but the lack of preparation she did around them spelled future trouble.

"So they're all just in it for the money?" Cal asked, somewhat deflated that the reasoning could be so banal.

"I'm not best friends with them or anything," Gregor sniped, seeming to realize how it came out and continuing in a more subdued tone. "I think Elizabeth does it to build connections. It feels like she's always angling for favors."

On paper, that might be a cause for concern, but it was also normal noble behavior. Could he bait her into something by offering blank check promises?

It was an option, but it would require him revealing something of value about himself.

"What about Charles?" Cal followed up, not willing to leave any of them out.

"I really couldn't say," Gregor said reluctantly. "He keeps to himself. I've heard from others he's big into art. Maybe he uses them himself to gain inspiration? That's something people do, right?"

Potentially.

Cal considered his approach for tomorrow. If money was Romero's motivation, he could work around that. It was impossible not to draw parallels with how the mercenaries treated demons in the Waste, and Cal wondered about the glass user they'd brought back.

If the Empire could break the covenant he was under, they might get more substantial answers. Getting access to him after would be difficult. He could see potential paths using the headmaster or Miss Justiciar. Would the latter be agreeable to it? He needed to talk to Lennard and find out how they got along.

The rough outline of a plan took shape in his mind as he pieced together the various leads he'd have to tackle. It wasn't something he could handle all alone, but as Alice recently finished reminding him, he didn't have to do everything himself.

As his confidence rose, he tried to forget about the outcomes of all the other plans he'd cobbled together.

Clearly, those were outliers and not indicative of future results.

"Sounds like it," he belatedly replied to Gregor, easing back into his chair and balancing it on two legs. "Thanks. I think that's good enough for now."

Gregor stared at him a moment longer before resuming his studying. Thankfully, he didn't question Cal's lingering presence—and Cal used the quiet to slink deeper into his thoughts.

It wasn't until there was a painfully normal girl standing in front of him that he realized he'd completely let time get away from him. His chair fell back into his proper position.

"Late," Mia said neutrally. Her eyes roamed over him, seeming to go over every inch of him. "Okay?"

Cal hadn't checked in on her sooner, knowing they'd meet up during his next class. He regretted that now, as there was something seriously wrong with her.

Mia didn't have a book.

Thinking fast, he grabbed one of the random ones he'd been lugging around.

"Take this," he said, while holding one of the smaller ones out.

She received it without question. Her finger traced along the title, and he followed her eyes as she read it before they turned back to him expectantly.

With order in the universe restored, Cal answered her question.

"I made it," he said simply, conscious of his audience. Even if Gregor didn't seem to register their conversation. He must have been studying in earnest. "I'll tell you about it later. I'm guessing you're here to drag me to Wyatt?"

"Yes." Mia frowned, pointing at his chest. "Uniform."

Cal didn't have to follow her finger to know what she was referring to. He was dressed in a school-appropriate dress shirt but was missing the mandatory blazer. It was strange that Mia was the one pointing it out and not Jessica, but he supposed the fashion-oriented girl must have been more frazzled than he thought.

"I'm planning to head into the city and pick one up."

It would likely have to wait until the weekend, and any teacher who tried to reprimand him about it tomorrow would encounter fierce resistance.

"Inappropriate," Mia declared sharply. She pulled out her phone, and the speed at which she typed worried him.

Cal could sense where that was going, and he gently put his hand on the phone, pushing it down.

"I'm sure whatever you're doing is nice, but I already know a tailor who can help."

Her fingers stopped, but her gaze wasn't what he'd describe as accepting.

"Very inappropriate," she emphasized in a low voice.

Mia really was a stickler for rules. It was definitely that and not something else she was referring to.

"Trust me, I got this. Besides," he continued to argue, "you've already done too much for me."

He hadn't meant for it to come out as a complaint, but some of his latent frustration must have leaked because she tilted her head inquisitively.

A few seconds passed before realization dawned on her.

"Emily?" He nodded at her question. "Mad?"

He searched her eyes, trying to determine her motivation behind hiring his minder. Were they always that shade of brown? It was a pointless thought, and he discarded it promptly.

"Let's call it surprised," Cal ventured diplomatically.

Mia was troublesome. There was no doubt about that. Anyone who listened in on their conversation with Alice could attest to that.

Still, Cal didn't want to think of her as malicious. He certainly could, as he'd double-checked out of precaution, but he'd prefer not to.

"Thanks for looking out for me," he said to the girl, standing up. "We'll have to discuss the finer details of messing—I mean, dealing—with your new employee. But for now, let's get to class. I'm pretty sure it'll be one for the history books."

He just wasn't sure if it would be for the fastest expulsion or kicking off a revolution.