Chapter 286
Meanwhile
Meanwhile IAM was making his way to Henry, Blaze had managed to get himself cleaned up.
His movements were stiff, and though the deeper bruises still pulsed beneath his skin, the dried blood along his ribs and arms had been washed away. A few angry marks remained—thin cuts and the ghost of IAM's strikes—but for an ascender, they were nothing more than temporary inconveniences. it would only take a week or two for him to heal.
If a normal person had such injuries even a few months might not suffice to recover.
He walked and arrived outside of the Student Council building, his steps slowing as the familiar structure came into view. He gradually came to a stop at the entrance, his eyes naturally gravitating to the golden plaque mounted by the doors.
The building itself looked quiet at this hour, but the entrance carried an air of dignity—almost ceremonial. The structure was held up by sculpted beams, and carved into them in delicate, fading gold script were names. A line of history, etched into the wood—the past Student Council members immortalized in a tribute.
It was truly a record of everyone who had once carried the weight of the academy on their shoulders.
Blaze's gaze drifted slowly across each name, the gentle sheen of the faint overhead lights catching on the gold lines. Some names were long forgotten, others he vaguely recognised from older students' stories, each representing someone who had stood where he was now standing, someone who had once shaped the academy in their own way.
Blaze's skimmed down the list… until his eyes halted on one name.
Raj.
His eyes lingered on the name.
His expression tightened almost imperceptibly. He raised a hand, fingers hovering towards the carved letters without touching them.
"…Idiot," he muttered under his breath, though the word came out strangely soft.
He stood there for a long moment, letting the silence settle around him, letting the memories he had tried so hard to bury press against his chest again.
Then he lowered his hand, straightened, and stepped inside.
Blaze walked past the reception desk where the receptionist immediately lowered her head, her posture shrinking as though instinctively reacting to his presence. Blaze didn't even glance in her direction. He moved in a straight line as he headed straight for the elevator.
He entered, pressed the button for the top floor, and leaned back against the wall. The fluorescent lights overhead hummed faintly, casting pale reflections across his tired face. As the doors slid shut, the receptionist lifted her head again, her brows tightening in a small frown she couldn't quite hide.
From her seat, she watched the numbers on the elevator panel slowly blink upward. Blaze always looked intense, but today… today he looked strangely lost, as if something had cracked deep inside him and he was trying to hold the pieces together through sheer force of will. She had worked long enough in this building to recognise the difference in his demeanour. Whatever it was, it clung to Blaze like an invisible stain.
…
A soft chime echoed as the elevator finally reached the top floor.
Blaze stepped out.
Not too long ago Reuel had commented that it was like the Student Council lived in the building, and as it turned out, his words were spot on! In fact, it almost felt eerie how accurate the remark had been.
They did live in the building.
The entire top floor belonged to them. It felt like a home. A sealed-off space where the council ate, slept, planned, fought, and existed together—close enough to breathe the same air, far enough from the rest of the academy to forget there was an entire world below them.
There was a public area right in the middle, a lounge-like space with soft lights and neatly arranged furniture, a place meant for short breaks or casual meetings. A little further down was another door, the one that led to the room where they usually held their formal gatherings and discussions.
Blaze didn't spare either space a single glance.
He made his way through the hallway for a minute or two, the familiar surroundings doing nothing to settle whatever was twisting tightly inside him.
Eventually, he stopped in front of a door.
For a heartbeat he simply stood there, his shoulders still and eyes fixed on the handle—not hesitating, but not quite ready to move either, as if he needed that one extra second to gather himself.
Then, just like a switch had been flipped, he cracked his usual grin, the one he always wore, the one that made it seem like nothing in the world could ever shake him.
Only then did he unlock the door and walk inside.
It felt like a home. A sealed-off space where the council ate, slept, planned, fought, and existed together—close enough to breathe the same air, far enough from the rest of the academy to forget there was an entire world below them.
Blaze walked deeper inside, and the silence of the floor pressed around him like a memory trying to claw its way back to the surface.
He entered the nicely decorated room and walked into the bedroom, and the moment his eyes landed on the sight waiting for him, every bit of tension he'd been holding in his shoulders simply dissolved. His grin became more genuine.
Laid across his bed was the splendid figure of Ari.
Her skin, a rich milk-chocolate tone, seemed to glow even under the muted room lighting, smooth in a way that made it look almost unreal—like light flowed across her rather than touched her. Her lips, naturally pink, held that familiar shape of quiet mischief, curved as if she was always seconds away from whispering something wicked, something only he would hear.
A delicate gold nose ring rested lightly against her skin, accentuating the elegant slope of her nose. Her hazel eyes—droopy, soft, and hauntingly seductive—peeked up at him with lazy curiosity, the kind of gaze that could make a person forget every problem they'd ever had.
Her hair was dyed in streaks of gold, woven neatly through her natural brunette curls, the colours intertwining like threads of sunlight. The curls framed her face effortlessly, falling around her features like an unintentional crown.
She wore a loose dressing gown, the fabric draping over her body in a way that revealed more than it hid. Little glances of her long, milky legs slipped out from beneath the folds, each shift of fabric exposing another sliver of smooth skin. It wasn't anything vulgar—just enough to leave a person breathless, enough to make one's eyes linger without meaning to.
She was the type of beauty that demanded attention without asking for it, the kind that could silence a room. Whether man or woman, anyone would be caught admiring her if they walked in. And Blaze found himself pausing in the doorway, unable to do anything but quietly marvel at her.
Even now, his heart would still flutter as if he still had a crush on her even now… and maybe he did.
Something about seeing her like this—completely at ease in his space, her presence softening the sharp corners of the room—made a deep warmth spread through his chest. It was ridiculous, he knew that; he saw her every day, spoke to her every day, touched her every day… yet that small, embarrassing skip in his heartbeat never went away. If anything, it had only grown worse with time.
This beauty noticed him now, her curious eyes lighting up slightly as she rose from the bed with a slow, fluid motion. She stepped toward him and wrapped herself around him without hesitation, her warm and soft frame melting into his. Her scent—sweet and familiar—slid into his senses.
For a brief moment, Blaze simply held her, letting the quiet contact settle his scattered mind. Then she tilted her head up at him from within his arms. The angle alone was dangerous—her gaze half-lidded yet alert, lips parted slightly as she breathed against him. It was the kind of sight that could make anyone go feral.
But before he could say anything, her eyes sharpened, and a small frown creased her features. Her stare drifted across his face, down his neck, catching on faint marks he hadn't fully managed to hide. Her voice, magnetic and low, cut through the warm air between them.
"You… what happened?"
The softness in her tone didn't lessen the weight of the question; if anything, it made it heavier. She could always see through him far more easily than he wanted her to.