After splashing water on his face, Edric looked up at the mirror in front of him, leaning on the sink as he stared deeply into his own eyes. Water streamed down his face, catching the light and glistening as the drops fell rhythmically into the basin below.
The tap kept running as Edric remained in his daze, locked in thought.
Snapping back to reality, he shut off the water, stood upright, and ran a hand through his hair before adjusting his sleek black hybrid hoodie jacket.
Just as he took a step toward the door, it swung open.
In stepped the Knucklehead Quad.
Brandon, Felix, Frederick, and Jasper.
They stood firm in front of Edric—silent, serious.
Edric halted, scanned the group, then smirked.
Right on cue, a timid-looking boy with glasses stepped out of one of the stalls.
All five boys turned briefly to look at him, then returned to glaring at one another.
The boy felt the thick, suffocating tension in the room. Hesitantly, he shuffled toward the sinks, avoiding eye contact like his life depended on it.
Edric leaned casually on the countertop beside him, arms crossed, entirely unfazed.
"Fancy running into you here," Edric said almost cheerfully.
Jasper stepped forward, eyes blazing. "This ain't no coincidence, you prick! You think—"
Brandon raised a hand to stop him. "Hush now," he said calmly. "We're not here for a fight. Okay?"
Jasper gritted his teeth but stepped back behind Brandon like the sycophant he was—same as the others.
Edric raised a brow but stayed silent.
The timid boy was now clearly stalling, still washing his hands long after he needed to, just to eavesdrop.
"Hey, lad," Felix called out to him in an oddly friendly tone. "Would you mind excusing us?"
The boy couldn't believe what he had just saw and heard—Felix, one of the most feared brutes in school, had just smiled and requested something of him politely.
Phenomenal!
"Y–Yeah. Sure," the boy stammered, quickly turning off the tap.
Edric watched him carefully as he passed the group, clearly terrified.
What are these whelps up to now? Edric thought. If they wanted to ambush me, they would've done it in front of a witness. So what gives? What's the real agenda?
Brandon, as if sensing his suspicion, stepped forward. "Like I said, we're not here to fight."
"Then why are you here?" Edric's eyes narrowed.
"I want to broker a truce." Brandon clasped his hands together. For a second, Edric could've sworn he looked... nervous.
A dry laugh escaped Edric.
"Wait... You're serious?" He gave them a skeptical look. "No way."
"I am," Brandon replied firmly.
The door creaked open and another student entered.
"Uh... okay," the boy muttered uneasily, clearly sensing something off.
He didn't need to be told. "I'll just step outside and let you guys... finish up," he said, retreating.
Edric turned back to Brandon. "What are you playing at, Brandon? What do you really want?"
Brandon leaned in closer, locking eyes with him. "You're fresh meat around here, but you're also one hell of a catch. I don't cross you, you don't cross me. That's all I want. Comprende?"
Edric didn't answer. He just studied the three boys behind Brandon. Bootlickers. All glaring at him like they thought it would scare him.
Brandon waited.
"First," Edric began, pushing Brandon back a step, "get out of my face."
Brandon retreated calmly, hands still relaxed.
"Second, I only roughed up your pal because he was mistreating someone—a friend of mine," he said, nodding toward Jasper. "And third, I don't know what that little 'deal' of yours meant, but I don't take threats lightly."
Jasper's chest heaved as he glared at Edric with wild, twitching fury. His fists clenched tightly, trembling with rage.
Frederick noticed and placed a steadying hand on his shoulder.
Jasper lowered his gaze, letting the rage simmer down.
Edric caught it all and couldn't help but be amused. But just as a smirk began to stretch across his face, Brandon suddenly grabbed him by the collar.
The smirk didn't fade. If anything, it grew more dangerous. Creepy dangerous.
"Listen, you English bitch!" Brandon spat. "This ain't some debate. This ain't some democracy. You're new here, so let me say this once—"
He trailed off mid-sentence, eyes drifting absentmindedly to the floor.
Then he let go of Edric.
Backing off, he adjusted his tone, eerily calm now. "Let's just stay out of each other's hair, yeah? And... I'm sorry for manhandling you."
Oh hell no!
Something was definitely off.
Edric knew bullies too well to believe this sudden politeness. This wasn't sincerity—it was strategy.
He brushed off his jacket and watched, saying nothing, as the boys turned to leave.
Brandon, the last to go, stopped at the door and looked back.
"Popularity—especially the not infamous kind—is a big deal at Ngong High."
He said no more.
The boy from earlier rushed back in, looking desperate. He bolted straight into one of the stalls.
Edric turned back to the mirror, placed his hands on the sink, and leaned forward.
With his eyes closed, he took in a deep breath, the scent of synthetic air freshener filling his lungs.
He snapped his eyes open and stared into his reflection, cold and focused.
"I don't have time for this," he muttered.
"I have bigger things to do."
His eyes lit up. It had dawned on him.
Without another moment's hesitation, Edric walked out of the washroom.
The hallway buzzed with student conversations—laughter, whispers, the shuffle of shoes, lockers opening and slamming shut.
Before him stretched a long glass window.
Warm, radiant sunlight filtered in through the glass, breathing life into the corridor.
Edric glanced out at the trees beyond, where birds flitted between branches, wings fluttering with graceful rhythm.
Nature's magic.
Breathtaking.
He scanned both ends of the hallway, eyes searching for one specific person—Edward. As if by some miracle, he'd spot him in the crowd.
But there was no sign of him. Not even any of his friends.
Two girls walked past Edric, arms hooked, sneaking obvious glances at him. They were smitten—practically drooling.
Edric awkwardly looked away and moved on.
He turned right and began walking down the hallway. He'd figure out where to look as he went.
---
After a frustrating search, Edric was tired of wandering around the school like some clueless idiot.
Stopping at a junction between two hallways, he had one last idea.
"Hellooo!" he called out, waving his hand dramatically.
He'd already been getting stares as he searched—stares that said, "Just ask."
But no one responded. The hallway buzzed on.
"I said: Hellooo!" he raised his voice, head tilted back a little.
This time, people paused and turned toward him.
Nice.
"I don't mean to bother you," Edric began, "but I'm looking for someone and can't seem to find him. Now, some of you might know him, or where he is…"
"Who?" asked a boy in the crowd, a bit impatiently.
"Edward," Edric said, snapping his fingers as he tried to recall the last name.
It clicked. "Edward Tuweku."
At the mention of the name, some students turned and walked off. They didn't recognize it.
"You mean the one who stood up to Brandon in the cafeteria the other day?" asked a familiar voice.
It was the same boy who had hyped the cafeteria fight and had saved Edward from Brandon's punch—triggering the whole chaos.
"Yes," Edric replied immediately.
The remaining few drifted away. Only that one boy walked toward him.
He was casually dressed, bag slung over one shoulder, holding the strap. Same height as Edric. Confident aura. Good-looking, but not quite Edric-level. And judging by his laid-back expression, he didn't seem to care much about anything.
"You know where he is?" Edric asked, hopeful.
"That's the issue," the boy began. Edric's heart dropped.
"I haven't seen him."
Edric frowned, disappointed. "Then why lead me on, man?"
"No, no, no. That's not what I meant," the boy clarified quickly. "What I meant is—I have math with him, but he didn't show up today. Skipped."
Edric's brows furrowed in disbelief. "But... I saw him before classes began."
The boy shrugged. "Doesn't mean he can't skip."
Edric sighed, giving up the chase for now. But the question lingered—Why would Edward skip class? He didn't seem the type.
Placing a hand on the boy's shoulder, Edric gave a nod of appreciation. "Thanks, man. I appreciate it."
He withdrew his hand and pulled out his phone, ready to move on.
That's when the boy spoke again. "Why do you need him anyway?"
"Hm?" Edric blinked, glancing up from his screen.
"Why are you looking for him?"
"Oh... uh, it's not really something I can explain," Edric replied politely.
"Alright," the boy said, backing off.
Edric offered a warm smile in gratitude.
But then—
"Wait!" the boy said, eyes locked on Edric's phone screen. "Is that... is that Dragon City?"
"Yeah, it is," Edric replied with a grin, voice softening with interest.
"Whoa, dude. I love that game."
"You do?"
"Totally. Here, let me show you."
The boy reached into his bag, pulled out his phone, and unlocked it.
"See?" he said, flashing the screen. The Dragon City icon sat neatly on the bottom row.
"You really do," Edric said with a surprised chuckle. "Wow. You don't seem like the type. You look too cool for that."
"Look who's talking," the boy shot back playfully, nudging Edric with his elbow.
"Our fellows always say this game's for nerds, but it's actually so fun," he added.
"Exactly!" Edric agreed. Finally, someone who gets it. Unlike the people who followed him around sometimes, this guy was genuine. Real. Edric was starting to like him. "Ever since I found it, I can't stop. I'm addicted."
"You don't need to tell me twice," the boy laughed. "What level are you on?"
"Thirty. You?"
"Forty-three. And your strongest dragon?"
"The Kinship Dragon. Empowered once and all attacks trained."
"Nice. That's solid," the boy said, sounding almost like a proud dad.
"You?" Edric asked with curiosity.
"My strongest so far is High Nebula Dragon. Haven't empowered it, but I've trained two attacks. It's got the phoenix perk. That baby's no joke—clears opponents like dust."
As they walked down the hallway together, the conversation flowed.
"Oh, and I'm Teddy, by the way," the boy said mid-sentence.
"Nice to meet you, Teddy. I'm Edric."
"I know," Teddy said politely, "but nice to finally meet you in person."
-------
Stepping into the sickbay, Beatrice glanced around.
It was empty.
She made her way to the nurse's office and knocked on the door.
"Come in," came the nurse's soft voice.
Beatrice stepped inside.
"Hey," the nurse greeted as she looked up from her paperwork.
"Hey, Orsa," Beatrice replied.
"Please, have a seat," Orsa offered, gesturing toward the chair in front of her desk.
Beatrice sat down.
"I reckon you're here to ask about the boy you brought in earlier," said Orsa, removing her elderly glasses.
"Yeah. Did you give him any medication or call his parents to pick him up?" Beatrice asked, concern in her voice.
Orsa's expression shifted—firm, with a trace of disappointment. "That boy wasn't sick," she said flatly.
Beatrice's eyes widened.
"Come again?"
"He wasn't sick," Orsa repeated, more dryly this time. "I stepped into my office for a moment to get something, and when I came back, he was gone. Just vanished. I figured he was faking it."
Beatrice stared, struggling to believe what she was hearing. But the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. Something had felt off.
Her eyes suddenly lit up—she remembered something.
"Thanks, Orsa," she said quickly, rising from her seat.
She was out the door before Orsa could even open her mouth.
"What's wrong with people these days?" Orsa muttered, grumbling to herself. "Always rushing off, some not even saying goodbye... Can't an old woman like me just have one normal conversation?" She sighed.
Meanwhile, Beatrice burst into her office in haste and hurried to her desk. She yanked open the third drawer.
Someone had been here.
She could tell instantly from the disheveled state of the contents—she always left her things neatly organized.
Worry creeping in, Beatrice opened the secret compartment with trembling hands.
She let out a short breath of relief when she saw the grimoire still intact.
But something didn't add up.
If whoever had broken in had seen the grimoire... why hadn't they taken it?
That's what they should've done—especially if it was who she thought it was.
There was no more time to waste.
She couldn't keep the grimoire here any longer.
She couldn't let them find it.
And now...
Now she had to ready herself.
Because they knew who she was.
And worse—
They were on to her.