The afternoon sun slanted warm across the athletics field, turning the rubberized track a soft, reddish umber. The gym breathed cool air and polish, a long rectangle of varnished maple cut by painted lanes and bright banners. Mirrors ran along one wall, and on the other, racks of training gear sat in neat, color-coded rows. Cones, hurdles, resistance bands, balance pads, you name it. A bank of high windows poured in the late-afternoon light and made dust motes drift like tiny duel spirits. Students gathered in lines by dorm color: a ribbon of red, a block of yellow, a crisp wedge of blue. Sneakers squeaked. Voices braided. Somebody's laughter pinged off the rafters.
With white clip-board tucked under her arm, Professor Fontaine paced the painted lane markers with an easy runner's stride. She wore the school's navy windbreaker over a white polo and had the posture of someone who could still smoke most of her students in a 400-meter dash. The academy called her "coach" in this block and "head nurse" everywhere else: in practice, she also served as the quiet center of the Obelisk Girls' dorm, its head and its shield whenever needed.
"Good afternoon, first years." she said, voice carrying effortlessly. "I'm Professor Fonda Fontaine. I run Physical Education, injury prevention, and, when fate is unkind, the ice packs." A small smile. "I'm also the acting head nurse at this institution, so you can probably find me at the infirmary as well, if needed. Let's talk a little bit about Physical Education and why does it matter for you to do it."
The young beauty was specially effective with the boys that glanced at the woman's body, but her position also commanded the respect of the females, making the whole class subdued into a comfortable silence as she started to explain.
"Here's the thing." she went on, twirling the whistle once. "You duel with your mind, but your brain rents space in your body. If the landlord is a mess, the tenant underperforms."
A ripple of amusement moved through the lines as the woman continued. "Having good stamina facilitates your ability to think in critical moments. A long tournament day can go for hours and hours. As an example, the notorious first phase of the Duelist Kingdom was resolved in less than 48 hours. And they had to encounter their adversaries on the island. If you're tired from walking through the entire area, when the moment to duel finally arrives, you're already in motion for a loss due to fatigue. If your body is tired, your mind does not perform optimally, and you make mistakes that'll make you kick yourself for weeks after."
The professor's speech might seem like a stretch, but Julian knew very well how tiring a long rally in a tournament setting could be. He remembered the first time he went into a YCS. He played more than 10 rounds of swiss that weekend, eight whole hours on the first day alone. At his sixth match, the duel went for time, needing to rush for the next game. The sum of those factors weighted heavily on his body and the misplays still haunted him today. "A little exaggerated, but she's not wrong. Especially with the whole finding your opponent thing they love to do in things like Duelist Kingdom, Battle City or the Genex tournament."
"Stamina buys you time. Breath buys you clarity. Posture buys you confidence. Recovery buys you tomorrow for a tournament final or something of the sort." Her voice echoed clearly her passion for the subject and her obvious faith in her own speech. "You can top-deck brilliance and still lose if your hands shake at match point. You can know the perfect chain and still miss timing because you weren't able to grasp that info in a pinch. We're going to build habits so your body doesn't argue with your brain when it matters."
She tapped the clipboard. "Today we'll have three stations. We'll move fast, and we'll move smart. And we'll all leave a little better than we arrived. Blues, you'll start with balance and breath. Yellows, cone slalom and split-step with the assistants. Reds, with me on the lanes. Rotate on my whistle."
She paused, letting the layout land. "Ground rules are simple. Hydrate when I say. Listen when I give the proper instructions, so you don't hurt yourself in the process. If that does happen and something hurts, you tell me before it becomes a plot twist. And one more thing… " the smile sharpened into something playful "In here, there are no top decks, only reps. Save your miracles for the arena, you'll earn your grade in my class with effort."
Julian felt Bastion's quiet exhale beside him, the line of Yellows straightening almost automatically. Effort, practically the Ra Yellow's sacred motto.
"Pair stretches first, to get your body ready to make the effort." Fontaine called, clear and even. "Then, two laps around the academy block, conversational pace. If you can't talk, you're going too fast, if you can sing, you're going too slow."
Obelisks, Ras, and a smattering of Slifers spread across the track. Farther out, a mixed knot of girls in blue warmed up in sync, ponytails bouncing in the exact same cadence, a detail that would have looked rehearsed anywhere else. On the infield, a couple of Ra kids botched a hamstring stretch and laughed it off. A Slifer tripped, popped back up, and bowed to no one in particular. It was noisy in the way new classes were noisy: episodic, good-natured, fragments of friendship in the middle of effort.
Julian matched Bastion's count of ten slow breaths and let the rhythm of the class roll past him. He liked this part: motion with no cards in hand, no math worth doing, just the systems of bodies repeating the same lines. It gave his head room.
Across the track, Syrus jogged late out of the locker rooms, tugging at the hem of his red tee. He carried nerves like a storm cloud: eyes on the ground, mouth set too tight. Jaden snagged him in stride and said something bright that earned a fleeting half-smile, but it didn't stick. When Fontaine's whistle chirped for laps, Syrus's first steps fumbled.
Julian's feet found their cadence alongside Bastion's. He didn't say anything at first. Patterns work best if you let them expose themselves.
Left, right. Breath in four, out four. Wind from the sea and the sweet cut-grass smell of the infield. Alexis ran the two lanes over with her friends by her side in an effortless jog, as if the ground rose to meet her. She and Bastion would share the same sub-routine for this: monitor heart rate, avoid lactate build, keep an eye on foot strike. For Julian, the sub-routine was the class itself. He wasn't a bodybuilder in his previous life and didn't intend to be one now. However, he knew the importance of exercise for the body's proper development and optimal performance, things a bratty teenager would glaze over, but someone that already passed this phase knew the importance: he would never be any athletic champion, but did enough exercises with jogging and swimming to ensure his own health.
Fontaine talked through the semester's outline as they circled: fitness baseline, sprint mechanics, agility footwork, a couple of scrimmage days for proper dueling stance and movement. "No, you may not bring your Disk to sprint practice." she added dryly, and a pocket of Obelisk boys laughed with just enough restraint to show they'd been thinking about it.
None of that was what tugged at Julian's attention. Syrus was. Not the general Syrus of anxious habits, but this specific one: hands kept fluttering to his pocket, the way his eyes slid to the floor and back to Jaden and then away again. It wasn't just nerves. It was the tight, brittle kind of distraction: like a card held too long in a sweaty grip.
He's seen something, Julian thought. He knows he shouldn't be thinking about it here and can't stop anyway.
Julian let a lap spool out. Let the sensation confirm itself. He cataloged the morning: Crowler's class, the rhetorical knife he'd pulled on Syrus, the letter of the rule and the tone of the man. Then the earlier episodes from the show that still haunted his spatial memory of this campus, like faint chalk lines under the painted track.
Mind back to neutral. Julian made the motion and let the phrase turn. The Academy's curriculum had already proven: even PE carried duel logic sewn through it. The body that can reset to neutral faster gets one more clean decision in a high-pressure chain. The duelist who can reset between shocks avoids compounding errors.
What would shock Syrus? He looked once again at the way the boy hovered at the edge of the line, eyes flicking to his locker like a moth to a bare bulb: too intent, too rattled… And the puzzle snapped into place with an almost obscene neatness. "I know this beat." he thought, and immediately filed the thought under Things I Can't Say Out Loud.
"You can't cite an anime as evidence. If I move, it has to be for reasons that exist here: a bad setup, a rule being leveraged to trip a first-year, a prank that turns into a write-up. Protect them without tipping my hand, don't spook Alexis's dorm, don't light Crowler on fire unless I can put it out. Find the seam, pull the thread, and make the truth arrive on its own two feet." In this episode, this day… Julian knew, in the way he "knew" things here, what the broad strokes were supposed to be. A bait in the form of a confession. A path to somewhere you shouldn't be after hours. A teacher with a wounded pride staking out the fallout like a fisherman at dusk. But knowledge of shape didn't guarantee identical details.
Fontaine's voice skimmed over him. "Remember: your brain is an oxygen hog. Big inhales through the nose, long releases through the mouth. That's not just health class talk; it's how you keep the frontal cortex online when you're under pressure."
Julian obeyed the breath cue and let the thinking settle into lanes. If the letter existed and Syrus's pocket fiddling all but confirmed it: someone planted it. He knew who, but would have to assume that wasn't the case. However, given the things that happened at the morning class, suspicions were natural and expected. Going directly to the girls dorm itself would break the rules, and explaining the situation to gather some kind of permission from Professor Fontaine would be hard enough. Not to mention the possibility of Crowler finding out.
Remembering the anime episode, another alternative took its place: the lake. Still outside the girls dorm boundaries, good vantage point to locate the professor and the area of his arrival to the duel between Jaden and Alexis. And, in a logical standpoint without privileged information: if you wanted to catch a first-year "breaking rules" without making yourself part of the rule-breaking, you watched from the shadows and documented. If he got there first, recording the professor at his own schemes was a possibility.
The plan sketched itself: verify the letter, cut off the path that put Syrus in trouble, secure proof of the plant, confront privately. And all of it without hanging Syrus or Jaden out to dry. But he needed the intel on an official manner first.
The second lap ended. Fontaine blew two short whistles. "Hydrate. Then line drills."
Syrus hung back by the water jugs. Jaden hovered a step away, eyes narrowed in the way of someone itching to pry but trying to be respectful about it. Bastion peeled off toward the cones. Alexis drifted into a small orbit with her friends, half-listening to Fontaine, half-scanning the field the way leaders did. Julian tipped his paper cup back, crumpled it, and timed the approach.
"Hey." he said in a moderate voice, like a passerby asking for the time. "Long face for a day this bright. Still thinking about my lessons?"
Syrus blinked, caught between the reflex to deny and the need to spill. The latter won by inches. "It's… nothing." His eyes bounced toward the girls' locker wing and away again. "I mean… it might be nothing. It's stupid."
"Stupid is my specialty." Julian said. "Try me."
Jaden gave Syrus's shoulder a small squeeze. "He's weirdly good at not making a big deal out of big deals. I'll also not judge, you know that."
Syrus made a sound that might have been a laugh in better weather. He slid a hand into his pocket, hesitated, then produced a neatly folded square of scented stationery. The perfumed edge hit Julian's nose: cheap florals, heavy hand. The handwriting inside tilted in a right-leaning slope, loops a little too perfect, like someone had practiced for "cute" using a guide.
"I found it when I went to change." Syrus said, voice low. "In my shoe. It says to meet… you know, later. Tonight. By the lake. And… and to come alone."
Jaden's brows lifted. "Whoa. Dude, that's…"
Julian didn't let the sentence finish. He softened it without blunting it. "Alexis. First, let's slow down. First question: does the time it names put you in violation of curfew?"
Syrus's mouth worked. "Yes. It's… it's past lights-out."
"Not much her style, but who can argue with love? People get irrational over the thing." Julian said. "Second question, If someone truly wanted to meet you, especially her. Why pick a time and place that starts the whole thing as a disciplinary offense? It's like a bad idea on a skirt."
Syrus stared at the letter, cheeks growing warm. "I… didn't think of it like that."
"Most people don't." Julian said. He kept his tone light. "That's why bait works. It steals your first thought."
Jaden, for once, didn't crack a joke. "So you think it's a setup."
"I think these Obelisk kids understood that they cannot beat my ass and are going for my student. Our interaction at the store probably already ran through the blues, especially with your brother on the matter." Julian said, glancing at Syrus. He knew that wasn't the case and that this episode had nothing to do with his presence, but it was a believable excuse to insert himself into the situation and make it his problem. There was no way he could have explained to them that the letter was for Jaden without revealing privileged intel.
"Let's not use letters like oracle bones and assume the future, that's evidence. We check it, test it. Then we make a decision." He angled the paper to catch the light, scanning the lines without looking like he was measuring them. The lowercase a's were closed ovals with a slight hook. The capitals had a theatrical curl. Two places where the writer had crossed t's twice, as if overcompensating to sell the hand. And the phrasing… 'I will be waiting by the lake shore, where the moon paints the water silver.' He almost smiled. The rest was generic, the kind of sentiment that could be addressed to anyone.
"You think it's fake." Syrus said, barely above a whisper.
"I think it's suspicious…" Julian said. "Which is enough to plan around."
"How?" Syrus asked. The question was half plea, half curiosity.
"First, you don't go." Julian said. "Please tell me I don't have to argue that part."
Syrus swallowed. "I… I wasn't going to." He glanced at Jaden. "Not after last night. We got lucky with the thing at the arena."
"Good." Julian said. He let a thread of humor in. "My collection of 'openly broken rules' for day two is already full."
Jaden flashed a quick grin. "We're working on better life choices."
"Please do that. Second," Julian went on, "we treat the letter as a map for the person who wrote it, not for you. People who lay traps tend to revisit them to see if the snare snapped." He tapped the paper. "There's a decent chance whoever planted this will circle back to their chosen stage to admire their craft. A line of blues ready to mock you, most likely."
Syrus looked frightened by the idea. "You're not going there, are you?"
Julian shook his head immediately. "Not alone. Not into any restricted area. And not doing anything that puts you, Jaden, or me in a rules grinder. I have zero interest in getting anyone demerits, detention or worse." He cut his eyes toward the girls in blue breaking for drills. "And I'm not doing anything that drags the Obelisk Girls' dorm into a public drama. If the boundary of their dorm is violated and this thing becomes a public matter, it will invite more troublemakers and rain hell on the girls. They already deal with enough pervs outside their haven."
Syrus exhaled, shoulders easing down a notch. "Okay."
Julian folded the letter and put it back in Syrus's hand, not his own pocket. "Third: you hang on to this and pretend you've decided to think about it. If anyone asks where you'll be tonight, you have the truth handy: studying. If anyone overheard you find it and fishes for info, be boring."
"Being boring is my superpower." Syrus said weakly.
"It's more useful than you think." Julian said. "Meanwhile, I'll do two things." He held up a finger. "One: compare the handwriting against some samples we have from class notes. A pen leaves a personality. Sometimes that personality is a little too performative." Second finger. "Two: ask for help from someone whose say-so matters in the quadrant this letter tries to exploit."
Jaden followed his look toward Alexis without meaning to. "You think she would…"
"I think she cares about how rule-following intersects with human nonsense, like me." Julian said. "Also, she's sane. That's a resource."
Syrus bit his lip. "Why would she help us?"
"She would not like her name being thrown down for this unnecessary mockery." Julian said. "And because she knows the difference between protecting her dorm and enabling dumb plans. If I ask the right way, she can supervise a watch that stays perfectly outside the girls' perimeter. Nobody gets in trouble, and we get eyes on whoever thought this was clever. With proof, the ball will be on our court." He let the practicalities take the air out of the mystery, on purpose. Fear shrinks when logistics get big.
Syrus stared down at the folds in the stationery, thumb tracing the edge like it might cut. "But what if it's real? What if… she's actually…"
Jaden slung an arm around him. "Buddy, anyone who actually likes you wouldn't pick a meet-cute that starts with detention."
Julian nodded. "If this turns out to be the rare case of her being a shy poet with poor judgment, we can send back a message suggesting a different time. Daylight. A private place, but an allowed one, without getting any of the two of you in trouble."
That coaxed the first honest smile from Syrus. "That sounds… nice, actually."
"Poets improve under supervision." Julian said. Then he dropped his voice a half step, just for the kid. "Syrus, one more thing. In the next hour, you will be tempted to decide what this means about you in the event that's really a plan to mock. Don't. You are not what a letter tries to do to you. You are what you do next."
Syrus's throat worked. He nodded, hard. "Okay."
A whistle lilted across the lanes. "Back to me!" Fontaine called. "Acceleration ladders!"
They jogged to the cones. Julian let the class swallow them again: feet through the rungs of nylon ladders, arms quiet, hips square; Fontaine's voice correcting posture without shaming effort; Bastion already faultlessly economical in his steps; Alexis somehow floating through the sequence like gravity was dialed down a notch for her lane. The ordinary movement of a school that made dueling look like theater and training look like a rite.
Syrus stayed near Jaden for the next drill, lighter by a measurable percentage. That gave Julian room for the other half of his problem: he had a plan on how to stop the event, but not on what to do with it. There were several options, and endless consequences branching from those. He broke the thought into actions, the way he always did.
Action A: proof. The letter's hand would be easy to test if he could cross-reference it with something recent and authentic. Crowler's chalk lines from the morning were convenient. He replayed the loops and hooks in his head and compared them to the professor's notes on the board—and to the notes he'd written in his own book. He did not need a match; he needed a lead Alexis would accept as reason to watch, not reason to indict.
Action B: the ask. Alexis had every right to shut the conversation down, since it involved the margins of her dorm. But Alexis also responded to straight lines and clean arguments. He would offer both. No drama. No grandstanding. Just a pitch for an observation at a respectful distance: if a bad actor returned to his chosen stage, then they'd be present to dissuade anything worse: and to end it without splashing mud across the whole campus.
Action C: the limit. There would be none of the reckless "rules don't apply to main characters" behavior he'd seen onscreen. Not on his watch. One lesson per day was plenty, he didn't need to become the headline of his own cautionary tale.
The drills burned pleasantly across his shins and calves as the most important question still stormed his mind: What to do with that proof? Fontaine rolled them into starts: three-point stance, hips loaded, quick first step — and then into a short relay that shook out competitive grins even from kids who would never choose the track on purpose. Somewhere in the third exchange Julian caught Alexis's eye by accident: she looked away first, not out of embarrassment, but because Mindy had flubbed her footwork and Alexis's reflex was to fix things.
"That's enough for today." Fontaine said finally. "Hydrate yourselves again before hitting the shower, guys. Good job!"
Dust lifted from the lanes as they broke. Jaden and Syrus peeled off toward the jugs, Bastion shadowing them. Julian grabbed his own cup, drank, and let his breathing come down to normal. He didn't rush the next part. Hard problems took steady hands.
Syrus came to him this time, as if the draft had pulled him. "Thanks." he said abruptly, letter still tucked at the edge of his pocket. "I… I don't want to — if this is stupid, I don't want to be the kind of stupid that gets everyone in trouble."
"That's a great kind to avoid." Julian said. "We'll handle it."
"What do I do now?" Syrus asked.
"Now?" Julian weighed it. The answer needed to be simple enough to repeat under pressure. "You take a good shower, go back to your dorm. You laugh at Jaden's bad jokes." a 'Hey!' sound could be heard behind them, Jaden making public his discontent with the observation. A soft laughter permeated the group once more as Julian continued. "Eat dinner, study, get fun and sleep. If anything changes: if someone nudges you about tonight, you tell me. Otherwise you leave the letter folded and let their stupidity come to you."
"In fact, you're going to 'accidentally' fall asleep on the common room couch after study hour, and Jaden will vouch you never left the building." he added, with a mischievous smile.
From down the line, Jaden—who was still grabbing his own refill of water, appeared with his gym bag, one eyebrow lifted. "I heard my name. Vouch for what, precisely?"
"For Syrus's impeccable adherence to curfew while he naps through it. With that Professor Banner himself will also be your testimony." Julian said dryly.
Jaden took in Syrus's face, the clutched note, the set of Julian's jaw. He didn't ask for details. "Sure. I'll bring a blanket, let's make this a duel party."
Syrus gave a shaky smile. "Thank you. Both of you."
As the groups broke apart — blue to one bank of lockers, yellow and red to their own, Julian wiped his face with the hem of his shirt and took one more mental snapshot of Syrus's shoulders: lower, steadier. Good. A plan that defused instead of inflamed had done its first job.
He slung his bag and caught Bastion's eye. "I'm going to borrow a couple minutes from Alexis's schedule."
Bastion nodded once. "I can predict the topic and endorse the tactic."
"High praise." Julian said.
"Accurate praise. You seem talented enough in disarming those bombs." Bastion countered, deadpan.
Fontaine had retreated to her office; clusters of first-years drifted toward the exits, laughing in the loose, breathless way of people who'd just run hard enough to remember they had lungs. Alexis stood with Jasmine and Mindy near the equipment cage, towel looped at her neck, expression composed in the way that made other students assume she was thinking three steps ahead. She usually was.
Julian angled over, Bastion peeling off toward the water fountain. "Alexis..." he said, keeping his voice low and even. "Do you have a minute?"
Her gaze sharpened. "If this is about practice rotations, you should ask Miss Fontaine…"
"Not that." He flicked his eyes to the empty stretch of bleachers along the far wall. "Somewhere a little more private? Or…" He clocked the way Jasmine's posture tightened and how Mindy shifted subtly between Alexis and him, protective. "They can come with us if you like. I just want do this away from the masses."
Alexis weighed him for a beat, then nodded. "We can talk there." She tipped her chin at the corner where the high jump mats made a kind of alcove. "But my friends stay."
"As I said, no problem." Julian said.
They moved the ten steps that bought them a shred of privacy. Jasmine folded her arms, skepticism clear. Mindy planted her hands on her hips, chin lifted, ready to blast sarcasm if needed. Alexis waited.
"Right…" Julian began, pitching his tone so it didn't carry. "I'll get to it. Syrus got a love note in your name."
Mindy's eyebrows went up. "The little red guy from Dr. Crowler's class? Ew…"
"He's my friend, please don't make this more humiliating for him than this needs to be, he is already a nervous wreck I'm trying to fix." Julian said, tone steady but edged. "And remember: he's Kaiser's little brother. He can be a small and unsecure wreck on day two and grow into a fine suitor with time and maturity. His brother is already a indicator of potential, I would say. Am I wrong?"
The girl got a little flustered at the pointing out, but answered. "Yeah, if he becomes another Zane… Doesn't seem likely, though."
Julian flicked a glance at the girl at the gym doors and continued. "No matter what your opinions of my protégé might be, that's not a reason to get him expelled."
Alexis's posture sharpened. "Expelled? Explain."
Julian said, no preamble. "It tells Syrus to meet 'you' after hours by the lake, after the girls' dorm line. By your behaviour, it's obvious the letter didn't come from you." the blonde nodded. "Whoever sent this, either wants Syrus humiliated or expelled, possibly both. It might be my pride saying, but I think this jab it's aimed at me: I beat two more Obelisk first-years at lunch, and with the Kaiser's challenge becoming public knowledge… Their plan probably changed, from beating me to fuck around with my people.
"Language." corrected Alexis.
"Anyway… If you're a bruised Blue, you don't punch up: especially after Zane practically endorsed the fact I'm blue material: you go for the jab beneath the waist."
"Endorsed is a little strong of a word, isn't it?" Alexis smiled, jabbing at his ego.
"Zane gave me a 'when', not an 'if'. He agrees that I'm Obelisk material, it's just a matter of crossing the academy's damn fraudulent system and yank one of the rich-boys down." Julian presented with a wry smile, knowing very well what their reaction would be.
As expected, the girls were less than happy with his dismissive statement, like it was an insinuation that they didn't hold value as duelists.
"Hey, not all of us…" started Jasmine, her cheeks flustered in deep crimson.
"If the number is bigger than zero, the system is already a fraud." Julian intervened, cutting her midphrase. "I'm not saying you girls are unworthy of wearing blue, but you know well I'm not lying. There are blues in this hall that earn their merit on cash, not cards. One of those will suffice. I just need a seat."
"A single seat?" asked Mindy.
"Well, for now it is just for me. In the future maybe, one for each of my friends as well, if they earn the right to do so. But I'm not trying to revolutionize the system if the people involved are unable to organize themselves. Couldn't care less about the randos, let they fight for themselves, I'll protect my own. As I'm doing now."
The interaction seemed like enough to make them understand a bit more of his threads and thoughts, but the core for the visit wasn't yet covered.
"As I was saying… If I'm right, they're playing dirty, aiming for my friends. Lure a starry-eyed boy toward a boundary he should never cross, and either make a public embarrassment out of him. I'm not fond of that." noticed Julian dryly.
Jasmine's arms folded. "So… You came to us because our dorm is the bait."
"It's Alexis' name on the note, I had to confirm, even if it seemed obvious. Also, it's your dorm someone tried to weaponize." Julian said. "If guys start thinking your perimeter is fair game, that's not just a prank, it invites worse behavior. I'm not letting some idiot normalize stepping toward your dorm like it's a game square."
Alexis held his eyes a beat. "Got it. Well, for starters… The note is not mine."
"I know." Julian said. "If you wanted to meet someone, you don't seem the kind that would hide behind stationery. And you wouldn't pick a time that breaks rules." He let a corner of his mouth tip. "You're usually as by-the-book as — well… me."
Mindy snorted despite herself. Jasmine's skepticism eased by a degree.
Alexis nodded once. "What are you asking?"
"A simple, clean plan." Julian said. "We treat it as a trap that will be monitored. People who set these up watch. We go to the lake path before curfew, we stay beyond the dorm line. We hide in the trees, and if someone shows to 'check on' their bait, I use my DuelPad to record. No planted cameras, no creeping under windows. If we need to step closer to frame a face, I don't cross the line to your dorm unless it's necessary for the shot — and if I have to take one step too many, you are there to keep me honest and to make sure nothing inappropriate happens."
Mindy tilted her head. "So we… lurk in shrubbery."
"I stand where I'm allowed, out of sight. Not incentivized, but a blurry line in the rules." Julian said. "We only reveal ourselves to get the proof we need, then we leave."
"And what if no one comes?" Jasmine asked.
"Then we learned something and we still kept Syrus from walking into a write-up." Julian said. "But I don't think they'll resist watching. People who script scenes like seeing them performed."
Mindy eyed him. "How sure are you? Don't tell me you already measured the distance from the last lamppost to the bench."
"Seventeen meters (about 56ft)." Julian said, deadpan… then lifted a hand. "I'm joking, obviously. I only found out minutes ago."
Jasmine's mouth twitched. "Good. Because if you'd had that number ready, I'd worry."
Alexis thought, eyes tracking the invisible map of the campus. "You said you think this is aimed at you." she said. "So what do you plan to do with the recording, assuming you get one?"
"The reason is irrelevant, even if I'm not the motor cause. We'll keep it tight." Julian said. "The goal isn't spectacle: it's stopping a pattern. If it's Blue first-years playing enforcer, you bring it to Fontaine and handle it in-house. If it's someone else in the student body, we take it to the appropriate advisor. Either way, Syrus doesn't become a test case for 'maybe the girls' side is porous.' I don't want that rumor even breathing."
Mindy's voice cooled. "And what you want to happen with the ones behind this?"
"Then they used your friend's name to invite trouble to your doorstep." Julian said. "If it's blue like I imagine, that's not house pride: it's house vandalism. I'd rather you have the proof than a rumor spiral. I don't care about the punishment, as long as my friends are left alone. If you wanna have a go at me, do it right, sent me a duel invitation and we'll solve it in the Arena."
Alexis weighed him. "And Syrus?"
"I already told him not to go." Julian said. "I told him a real invitation doesn't demand a rule break. He believed me. He's shaken, but he's not stupid."
Mindy exhaled. "I hate that this makes sense. I also hate hiding in trees."
"Trees are optional…" Julian noted. "Bushes exist."
"Not better."
Jasmine glanced at Alexis. "Your call."
Alexis looked back at Julian. "Ground rules." she said. "One: we do not cross the dorm line unless it's necessary for the recording. Two: if I say we end it, we end it. Three: if really are Obelisk students, I take the proof to Fontaine. Not you. Four: no 'accidental' heroics."
"Agreed on all four, but I wanna be there when you talk to Fontaine." Julian said, immediate. "My add: if the culprit isn't from your dorm, we still keep the circle small. One thing is having my name trend on campus from a challenge for Zane or for beating a couple dorks in a fair fight. A rumor related to crossing the girls' dorm at night?" his face at a grimace. "No, thanks."
Mindy made a face. "It's the second day."
"Exactly." Julian said. "And I don't need this kind of bad press, neither does your dorm. Let's not turn day two into a legend."
Alexis's shoulders settled. "Very well, where do we meet?"
Julian raised his own shoulders in a classical 'dunno' and responded. "Do I look like a girls' dorm specialist? It's better for you to select the place."
"Fair enough. At the bend on the lake path where the trees get thin." Alexis settled. "Everyone passes it to reach the water. We can tuck in behind the bamboo clump and see both approaches. If they think Syrus will arrive, they'll stand where they can see him coming and the dorm line in the same glance."
Jasmine gave him a long look. "You really are the type who 'likes doing things the right way,' huh?"
"It keeps things from unraveling later." Julian said. He took a breath. "Look Mindy, earlier you said 'ew.' I get it. He's still small and shy. Time has a way of fixing that. But even now, Syrus isn't a creep. He's a nice kid who'd rather die than disrespect your space. If he thought it was real, he still would've asked for a sane time and place. He deserves better than being used, especially if it is something aimed at me."
Mindy's expression softened. "Okay. Point taken."
Alexis nodded once, decision made. "We meet fifteen minutes before lights-out at the pathhead," she said. "We wait. If anyone shows, we record. If nothing happens, we go home."
"Thank you." Julian said. "You're protecting your dorm's boundaries and a first-year's dignity. That matters."
"Don't make me regret it." Alexis said, but there wasn't heat behind it: only caution and responsibility.
"I won't." Julian said. He lifted the DuelPad clipped inside his bag. "No spy toys. Just this. We keep it simple."
Jasmine arched a brow. "And if the 'someone' who comes is bigger than us three want to handle?"
"Then we don't handle it." Julian said. "We leave and take what we have to the right adult. No stunts."
Mindy blew out a breath. "Fine. I'll bring bug spray."
"Bring plausible deniability." Jasmine murmured.
Alexis slung her towel back over her neck. "See you at the lake," she said. "And Ashford… if this turns out to be a bad joke from your side of the island, I'm going to be extremely unimpressed."
"If it is, I'll be the first to say sorry."
They broke, the gym's afternoon hum swelling around them again as if nothing had been negotiated in its quiet corner. As the three Blues headed for the locker hall, Mindy glanced back. "Hey, Ra-boy," she called, softer. "Thanks for not pretending the girls' line is just paint."
Julian dipped his head. "Oh, I would love to cross it. There are some pretty gems in there. Competent too. Unfortunately, some lines are there for a good reason. There are better places to get a date."
Jasmine laughed and tugged Mindy along. Alexis didn't look back, but her hand lifted once in a small, contained wave with a faint smile on her own expression.
Julian stood a moment longer, the plan settling into place. Not theatrics. Not even clever. Just control: keep Syrus out of harm, keep the dorm's boundary respected, catch the author of a note in the only way that mattered — doing the thing that proved the note was never about affection. But his plans went above that, even if he couldn't tell the girls the whole thing. As someone in a show he used to watch (the last two seasons sucked) said once: 'Chaos is a ladder'. And he would turn this ladder into a pretty climb to the top.
He thumbed his DuelPad awake, checked storage, changed a setting then closed it. No half measures. No angles calculated. He'd do that in the dusk.
Twilight pooled along the lakeshore like ink, the last ribbons of daylight snagging in the tops of the bamboo and the iron-dark water wearing a faint, wavering sheen. From the pathhead, where the lamps threw circles of pale gold on the gravel, they slipped into the green: Julian first, then Alexis, with Jasmine and Mindy close behind, careful not to let their gym bags brush the leaves.
"Here." Julian murmured, pausing behind a dense rake of bamboo where culms rose in tight, jointed spears and leaf-fans overlapped to make a natural lattice. "We can see the bend and the bench. We're outside your line. No one on the path will clock us unless we move carelessly."
Mindy planted her hands on her hips and whispered, "And the mosquitoes will not clock us at all, because I brought civilization." She fished a travel sprayer from her bag. Psst-psst-psst. "Don't say I never do anything for justice."
Jasmine smothered a laugh. Alexis, businesslike, leaned to sight along the narrow gap Julian had indicated. The path curved in a lazy S around a spur of shrubs and a sculpted boulder stamped with the academy crest: beyond that, the lake opened into a glassy oval, its surface stippled by a breeze. Somewhere across the water, a night heron made a single nasal croak.
Julian crouched, lowering into a long runner's sit. He slid his DuelPad from his bag and balanced it across his thighs, thumb hovering over the record pane. The display threw a soft, ghostly light across his fingers; he dimmed it and set the brightness to minimum, an old habit; light drew eyes.
"Six-thirty." Alexis murmured, checking the small silver watch on her wrist. "The time for boys at the public space in our dorm is now closed. Half an hour for the time mentioned in the letter. If whoever wrote that note meant tonight, they'll be early to see if the trap is springing."
"People come to watch their plans pay off." Julian said. His voice was quiet without effort. "Their performance must be made public or it doesn't count. I know the type."
They settled into the hush. The campus lamps seemed very far away; the leaves' shadows made a tight fretwork across the gravel. Mindy, by a miracle of will or new respect, didn't fill the silence with running commentary. Jasmine's eyes flicked between the path and the girls' dorm boundary marker: a low chain strung between waist-high metal posts, the symbolic line that protected their refuge at the campus.
Julian breathed with the lake: in with the faint iodine salt of sea carried on the wind, out with the damp sweetness of grass. He could feel the tension in the three Blues like tuned strings. They didn't shift. They didn't fidget. He felt (absurdly, even now) the temptation to calculate angles and sight-lines, to measure the distance from their bamboo blind to the crest-stone, to weigh odds. He didn't. The silence was unsettling, but his patience reigned supreme.
A shadow moved on the far side of the bend.
Jasmine's fingers touched Alexis's sleeve, a slight press. Mindy's breath hitched, then stilled.
The figure emerged: not from the path proper, but from the far bank of shrubs, as if he'd crawled the last few meters. For a heartbeat, the sight made no sense: a smooth, matte-black silhouette with a hood tied close to the face, a glint at the mouth, and thick neoprene seams piping the limbs. Then the figure straightened with a tiny squeak of rubber, and the outline of a full-body wetsuit resolved, complete with goggles on the brow and the strap of a snorkel mask caught in the hood. A pair of swim fins protruded from a nylon tote at his side like blue flags. The tote bulged with… what, exactly? A camera? A towel? The mind boggled.
Mindy's internal voice leaked out as a whisper: "You have got to be kidding me."
Julian's heart did an odd, trivial skip. He sent Alexis a quick, sidelong look; her eyes had widened a fraction, shock and something like embarrassment fighting for primacy. She mouthed the name without sound: Crowler.
The suited figure: Dr. Velian Crowler, apparently believing head-to-toe neoprene constituted master-grade stealth — eased up alongside the academy crest-stone and peered down the path toward the invisible line of the girls' dorm. He fumbled in the tote and produced a compact digital camera wrapped in a cloth, checked the screen, then held it at the ready. When he spoke, it was in a confidential hiss pitched to himself, but the lakeside's gentle bowl carried it.
"This will be perfect!" he whispered, with unearned triumph. "Thanks to that faux love letter I wrote, Jaden will show up looking for Alexis, but all he'll find is going to be trouble instead. Once he arrives, I'll snap a picture of him. And then, I'll have him caught red-handed breaking campus rules. He'll be ruined."
The words landed as cleanly as a judge's gavel.
Jasmine's hand clamped on Mindy's forearm. Mindy's eyes ping-ponged between Alexis and the wetsuited saboteur, her mouth an outraged O. Alexis went so still she might have been carved from the crest-stone itself, only the brief flash in her gaze betrayed the insult of hearing her name used like bait.
When they glanced at Julian, his DuelPad was already recording, his words captured clearly as the boy started to walk in the headmaster's direction for a proper close up, the three girls following him closely and hushing between themselves.
Crowler, pleased with his own stage whisper, took off his mask-band and peeked again up-path, gaze hungry for movement. He shuffled to one knee, camera rising for a better angle, the tote's zipper rasping softly. A coil of yellow nylon (a safety line?) snagged on a twig and sprang free, as he yanked it back with a hiss of irritation. The lake lapped twice at the stones like a cat's tongue.
In the green dimness behind the bamboo, Mindy whispered, almost soundless. "What do we do? We can't… we can't report a head of dorm without —"
"We have the recording." Jasmine breathed. "We take it to Fontaine."
"And say what?" Mindy's whisper frayed, even as she kept it microscopic. "That the practical director of the Obelisk dorm put on a scuba suit to stalk a Slifer?"
Alexis's teeth touched her lower lip. She didn't look away from the path. "We say exactly what happened. And we say it carefully." A beat. "Quiet. He's listening."
Crowler had lifted his head in the particular way of someone who feels the fabric of silence shift. His shoulders went rigid. The rubber hood creaked faintly as he turned toward their thicket. His eyes were shadowed beneath the mask, but the line of his body said suspicion.
Julian kept the camera with the zoom feature on a close take of the doctor's face for a good twenty seconds before cutting the recording. Not because he was finished, but because surprises belonged to the living room, not to negotiations. He could feel the three beside him drawing smaller, the instinctive fold of prey not wanting the spotlight. He weighed time. They had what they needed: the man's own voice, line and sinker. If Crowler came closer and demanded identities, the whole thing would turn messier than it had to be.
He rose out of the bamboo like a magician revealing an assistant: in one smooth motion, hands open and empty, DuelPad visible on his palm so it couldn't be misread as a weapon or a gotcha.
"Good evening, Doctor Crowler." Julian said, tone warm with a courtesy that had iron under it. "What an… athletic ensemble."
Behind him, he heard Mindy bite a knuckle to smother a noise. Jasmine didn't move. Alexis stood a half-step up and to his right, stepping into visibility without crossing the symbolic chain. The small lift of her chin made it clear she wasn't hiding, and equally clear whose ground this still was.
Crowler jerked to his feet with a squeal of neoprene. For a heartbeat he looked like a startled eel, then like a man who had been seen in a costume meant only for triumph and secrecy. He clutched the camera to his chest with both gloved hands, eyes darting from Julian to Alexis to the shadows behind.
"What..." he said, trying for hauteur and landing somewhere near strangled, "are you doing out after hours, Mr…"
"Ashford." Julian supplied. "From Ra."
"Yes, well…" Crowler smoothed a hand down his wetsuit front and immediately seemed to regret touching rubber with rubber; it squeaked. "Yes. Mr. Ashford. You are very much not supposed to be anywhere near the girls' dorm perimeter. Very much. And you, Miss Rhoades."
"We were beyond the line." Alexis said coolly. "On purpose."
Crowler made a sound that wanted to be disdain and was, regrettably, a tiny squeak. "Semantics. And what — what is that?" He gestured with his chin at the DuelPad. "You will put away whatever juvenile gadget you've brought for your — your little night hike. I'll forget that you two made a romantic escapade at nighttime."
Julian lifted the Pad slightly, not offering it, not taunting with it; simply letting the device exist in the conversation. The surface was dark again. His voice stayed even.
"I was actually going to ask if we could speak." he said. "Briefly. Here is fine. Or we can step toward the lamps if you prefer to be better lit."
Crowler's eyes narrowed. He adjusted the mask on his brow, all edges and offense. "I shall do no such thing. I do not dally in bushes with students."
"Then we can do it in the open." Julian said, and stepped out from the bamboo entirely, into the half-light of the path's nearest lamp. He was careful to stand with the crest-stone between himself and the chain posts: a subtle geometry that said 'I know the line. I'm respecting it'.
The light touched his face, then slanted back to pearly the water. Alexis didn't move from her place on the safe side of the boundary's spirit; she didn't need to. She was present; that was enough.
Crowler's gaze flicked to the lake, then to the girls, then back to the DuelPad. He was calculating, because that was who he was: he liked plans, and this was not the plan.
"Speak." he said at last, clipped. "And make haste. I have… work to continue."
"Of course." Julian said. He let a little of the salt wind into his lungs. "I'll be concise."
He had the pivot now: the moment when the two other parties knew this wasn't some panicked stumble. He could feel Alexis beside him, steady as a stringer pole in the sand. He kept his tone measured.
"I came because I learned about a forged letter in Miss Rhoades name." he said, plainly. "It seems it was aimed at Jaden Yuki, but the perpetrator misplaced it for his best friend, Syrus Truesdale. The meeting time was after hours, the place was here by the girls' dorm boundary. I told Syrus not to come, because real invitations don't require breaking rules. I asked Miss Rhoades to stand witness so we could discourage whoever thought using her name and her dorm's perimeter as bait was clever."
Crowler's lips pinched. "Your concern for rules is touching, given that you are currently…"
"... outside the line, with the representative of the first year girls' dorm present." Julian said, as if ticking a box. "And with my DuelPad with its tracking function on and visible."
Crowler's nostrils flared. His gaze flicked again to the device, and Julian saw it, the tiny drop in color under the tan. A chink. The moment when a teacher realized he was not only off-script, but recorded reading from a different one.
Jasmine and Mindy were very still, the way you are still when a ceramic vase falls and you aren't sure if it will shatter. Alexis's fingers flexed once by her thigh and then stilled again.
Julian inclined his head, just enough to be respectful, not enough to bow. "And with all of that on the table I once again say to you, Professor…" he said, his voice this time showing that he had all the cards. "Good evening."
Crowler held the camera tighter. In the distance, a frog barked once. The lake breathed. The bamboo ticked as leaves rubbed. The air felt as delicate as glass.
"Good… evening." Crowler said, slower now, proving he could say the words. "Mr. Ashford."
Julian nodded toward the lamplight and the civilized path, as if inviting a gentleman to step into a parlor rather than out of a shrub-lit theater. "Shall we?"
Julian didn't step closer, he didn't need the extra inch. He set his feet in the lamplight as if they were measuring marks, and kept his hands visible, one loosely cradling the DuelPad against his hip.
"Doctor…" he began, and the deference in the word wasn't a trick, he let it be real. "Before anything else: I'm not here to embarrass you. I came because what was set in motion risked pulling the wrong people into trouble. It already has."
Crowler's chin lifted a degree. The mask band on his brow made a shallow print in the skin above his eyebrows, his mouth had found the tight little shape it wore whenever someone else had a turn to speak. "Your presence here is a risk all its own." he said. "To rules. To decorum. To common sense."
"To all three, certainly." Julian agreed, without flinch. "And that's why I invited Miss Rhoades to stand on this boundary with me. Because I don't cross lines without a witness and a reason."
He angled the DuelPad a little so the professor could see the dormant screen, not taunting with it, merely letting it exist. "This went far enough already." he said, plain as paper, raising the device. "You spoke clearly. I won't repeat it out loud. I don't think you want to hear your own phrasing back with an audience."
Crowler's eyes cut to Alexis and back. Pride tried to reassert itself, the wetsuit squeaked around his shoulders as he squared them. "And what exactly do you intend? To run squealing to the Chancellor? To mount some… student tribunal?"
"No." Julian said. It wasn't soft, but it wasn't a lash either. "If I wanted that result, I wouldn't be having this conversation at night by the lake."
Crowler's mouth twitched. "Then why have it at all?"
"Because your plan set bait with the wrong person's name and aimed it at the wrong student." Julian said. He kept his tone even, the facts arranged like cards in an open hand. "Whatever you think of Jaden Yuki, and it's not a mystery what you think, he's not an empty uniform. He was chosen by a three-time world champion to inherit a deck and a legacy. If that doesn't at least argue for Blue potential, it argues this: you didn't lose to a fluke. If we excuse his poor grades and decorum, he's Kaiser potential, by the bare minimum."
He let that settle. The statement wasn't barbed; it was respectful in a way that landed because it didn't wear sugar. Crowler's eyes flickered, pride tugged by the line that acknowledged the caliber of his own opposition.
"And Syrus Truesdale." Julian went on, gentler now, "Isn't a prop you can knock over on the way to proving a point about Jaden. He was the one who found the letter. He has a brother who wears the title Kaiser. You are not just toying with a Slifer's nerves. You're tangling your dorm's name with the face of the academy. If I tell the story that way, with the recording attached, you know very well Chancellor Sheppard would throw your sorry ass into the street to save face in a heartbeat, to not raise the stink up to Kaiba."
"Up to Kaiba?" Crowler's laugh was brittle glass. "Please, you're overestimating this."
"With your words on record, this scuba suit in a girls dorm and the legacy of the World Champion? Certainly. It would be news on the other side of the world before tomorrow night. You know how the press would twist the situation. Improper conduct would be the bare minimum, you may be barred from teaching at all, losing your license. Even face charges…" Julian's tone wasn't accusatory. He explained the situation with the same calm and proper tone as it did back in class in the field spell response.
"You're a very good teacher, sir." Julian said simply. "That matters. It's why I'm here talking to you instead of taking a walk to Chancellor Sheppard's office with Miss Rhoades, because that walk would end your career. I'm not interested in that outcome. The girls aren't, either. I think you're a rigorous educator whose pride got stepped on and who decided to teach a lesson the wrong way."
Crowler's lips parted, surprise flickering at the compliment buried like a wire in fruit. Pride fought with caution across his kept going, steady.
"So here's what I propose instead. You grant me something I've been told doesn't happen: a fair shot to sit where my work says I belong, not where my family's bank account says I should stay. No backroom favor, no sudden jacket in the mail. A formal promotion test of your choosing: written depth, practical execution, and a due, administered and judged fairly by faculty. If I pass, I earn blue on merit. If I fail, I accept yellow until I've grown. Clean. Above board. No one loses face."
Behind the bamboo, Jasmine's whisper was a spark that couldn't help leaping. "He just… proposed a deal with the dorm head?"
Mindy pinched her sleeve, eyes wide. "Did you hear how clean that was? Not 'give me Blue,' but 'test me for it.' If boys in Ra talked like that more often, we'd— " She stopped herself before finishing the sentence with something inappropriate.
"Okay, wow." stated her friend, hands up in the air.
Alexis shifted her weight, the small scrape of her shoe on gravel as startling as a shout in that quiet. "Julian." she said, the name a thread of warning and astonishment. "That wasn't what we discussed."
He turned slightly, enough to include her without excluding the professor. "We discussed protecting your dorm." he said. "We did that. I did that. We caught the person who used your name and your boundary line. We have confirmation of intent. If this were a student, you could take it to Fontaine and decide between detention and expulsion. But it isn't. As I said, if we walk this to Sheppard, there's no version where the head of the Obelisk boys' dorm keeps his job."
He didn't soften the truth with cushions. He let the weight of it sit where it belonged. Alexis held his eyes for a count, then looked past him to the neoprene silhouette — vision and reality both now. He saw the muscles at her jaw ease with her exhale.
"It would be a loss." she said quietly. "To the academy."
"Exactly," Julian said. "And we would be the ones who delivered it."
Her gaze flicked back. "And you would get a promotion as a reward."
"A fair try." he said. "That's an important difference. I know I'm good, I'm not asking for 'hand me downs'. I also know this place has social ridgelines and cash valleys, and I didn't arrive with a map to either. If I'm going to climb, I'd like the slope to be the same for me as it is for the others."
Crowler watched him with a kind of chilly fascination, as if something in the calibration of the boy's tone and terms offended and impressed him at once. "You say it so prettily." he murmured. "As if you aren't simply using leverage like anyone else born for Blue would. Perhaps you were misplaced."
Julian let himself smile, a sliver. "Perhaps I'm auditioning, sir."
"Say I agree in principle." he said, diction careful. "Say I am willing to arrange some… evaluation. Suppose further that you do not humiliate yourself and I deem the performance sufficient. What then? Do you imagine I click my heels, and a jacket appears? This is not a stage play. There are lists. There are parents who will…"
"They will be satisfied if the academy shows it rewards merit," Julian cutted. "You don't have to sell it as charity. Sell it as teeth. The only reason people pay for that blue jacket it's because it means something. As time went on, its meaning has been changing. Enforce the meaning of merit to ascend to the blue dorm and the image of the whole institution will be better as a consequence. A standard enforced publicly is a better message to the parents in general than watching a Blue boy sleepwalk through midterms because his father funds a wing."
A dry, involuntary sound escaped Alexis: half a breath, half a laugh. Crowler's mouth twitched again despite himself, then flattened dutifully.
"You can say that a committee was on your foot for unfairness in the dorm standings, so you had to test one student. Bastion has the best written score, but I'm second and my practical grades and duel history are leagues better than his, it would be the obvious choice." Julian said gently. "You choose the language and the context, I don't care. Just set the thing and I'll show up and do the work."
Crowler's mouth wanted to curl in satisfaction at *committee requested* and *set a tone*. He caught it, but not before Julian saw it.
"And if you fail." he said, a crisp snap to the last word. "If you stand on a proper stage and face proper pressure and your 'merit' shrivels?"
"If the test is fair, you get to keep this in your pocket as a reminder of my good sense tonight." Julian said calmly, lifting the DuelPad a fraction and letting it drop back to neutral. "And I keep working in Ra until I can beat the threshold by so much you just can't refuse me."
For a moment the lake's small sounds and the cricket scrape in the grass filled the silence. Crowler looked to Alexis, perhaps hoping for a Blue to object on a Blue scale. She didn't. She held his gaze, even. When she spoke, it was to underline the geometry already drawn.
"Our boundary was protected." she said. "And a student was shielded from a trap set with my name on it. Those are the two things that matter to me tonight."
Which was approval as far as it needed to go.
Crowler's tongue touched his lip, thoughtful. The wetsuit had become an irony too large to carry; he peeled the hood back at last, and the gesture released some strangled dignity along with it. Blond hair, mashed and damp, sprang erratically. Without the hood, he looked less like a villain from a midnight play and more like a man who had let humiliation drive him into theater.
"You will not parade this recording." he said, the sentence shaped as command but spoken as a term. "Not to Fontaine. Not to Sheppard. Not to your little circle of admirers. You will keep it… as a lesson."
Julian inclined his head. "Agreed."
"Very well." Crowler said. "A formal evaluation, written and practical — scheduled when it can be justified and adjudicated without circus." His chin lifted a degree. "You will not find me generous. You will find me exacting. If you pass, you will have done so where anyone else could see how. If you fail, you will do so without drama."
"If it's fair and in a timely manner, I don't care." Julian said.
Crowler's eyes cut past him to Alexis, who watched with that same cooled-glass composure, then to Jasmine and Mindy. He drew himself up to his full, not inconsiderable height.
"I will confer with the chancellor." he said, each word overly enunciated. "It still would take at least a week to set things up. When such an evaluation is sanctioned, you will receive notice."
"Leave Miss Rhoades and the authority of her dorm out of any accounting. This matter stays between us and the faculty." Crowler added, the protective note in him unashamed.
"She is why I'm here in good faith." Julian said. That landed cleanly enough that Alexis's eyes flicked toward him again. He kept his gaze on Crowler. "I meant what I said earlier. You're a very good teacher. I don't get any pleasure out of watching the academy lose assets. I want to make it stronger. Let me earn the jacket that lets me do that in the room where it matters."
Crowler's jaw worked, a tick that could have been temper or calculus. "Good, let's not make a circus out of this. We'll see if you are anything more than a boy with neat phrases and decent instincts."
"Good." Julian said, and for the first time there was the suggestion of warmth that wasn't strategic. "Thank you, sir."
Crowler sniffed, summoned some shredded remnant of hauteur around him like a cloak the wet suit couldn't provide. "You thank me when you pass it." he said. "And you will send Mr. Yuki my regards."
Julian shook his head. "He won't be coming. Neither will Syrus. I asked them both to go straight from PE to their evening block and then back to the dorm. I don't put my friends in the path of a trap if I can help it."
A flicker crossed Crowler's face — annoyance that the scene he'd staged wouldn't play at all, followed by a private relief that it wouldn't be written down by someone else. He adjusted the camera strap, then seemed to think better of it, tucking the device back into his tote with fussy precision.
"And the suit." Mindy whispered behind the bamboo, a sound only the girls could hear. "That was for… what, exactly? In case he needed to swim across the scandal?"
Jasmine pinched her elbow, both of them clinging to quiet. Alexis didn't move. Julian, mercifully, did not smile.
"If we're finished." Crowler said, crisp again by will. "I will leave you to your… boundary appreciation. Miss Rhoades." He inclined a formal inch toward Alexis. "Mr. Ashford. Do sleep. The academy does not reward yawns, especially at the elite's dorm."
He turned with a rustle and squeak, neoprene complaining afresh as he gathered his odd dignity and strode down the path the way he'd come, fins sticking absurdly from the tote like flags of resignation. The lamps took him in and let him go, his silhouette breaking and reforming between their pale islands until the shrub line took him.
Silence resettled. The lake breathed. A night breeze stuttered the bamboo leaves into a soft applause.
Julian exhaled the breath he'd been keeping in reserve. He didn't look back at the thicket where Jasmine and Mindy hid, he turned to Alexis instead, letting the DuelPad hang at his side like any student's screen after a late homework check.
"They won't come tonight." he said, voice quiet again, not because secrecy was still required but because the world had demanded quiet and it felt rude to jar it. "I made sure of it."
Alexis studied him: really studied him, the way you do when a person you thought you'd defined shows a new axis. There was relief in her; there was also curiosity, and that quick Blue brain measuring the cost of what hadn't happened against the cost of what had. Somewhere behind the bamboo, Mindy let out a breath in a shaky whoosh, and Jasmine said the single word "Wow" like a verdict and a prayer.
The girls were still whispering in disbelief when Alexis turned, gathering her composure back.
"Girls. Would you give us a minute?" she asked.
Mindy blinked, mock-scandalized. "A minute? Ohhh, I get it—claiming your prize early, huh?"
Jasmine covered her grin. "Better move fast, Mindy. She's about to stake her flag on the next Obelisk-to-be."
Alexis rolled her eyes, heat prickling up her neck. "Come on, girls. Please…"
"Sure, sure." Jasmine said, still smirking. "We'll just—walk slowly. Very slowly."
"Don't wait up." Mindy added with a theatrical sigh. "And don't forget to use protection!" They both laughed as they melted down the path, their silhouettes swallowed by the lamps, leaving a blush Alexis alone with the Ra student.
When their voices were gone, the quiet felt larger. The lake was a mirror again, black glass veined with silver where the breeze touched it. Julian stood a few steps away, looking over the water, his bag slung loose at one shoulder. The night pressed against them—soft, full of things unsaid.
"Sorry. They are a bit… too much at times." Alexis began, folding her arms lightly. "That was… impressive. Risky, but impressive."
He half-smiled. "I'll take the first half as a compliment."
Her laugh was small but real. Then her tone shifted, gentler. "I actually wanted to ask you something. Something… separate from tonight."
He turned fully toward her, hands sliding into his pockets, expression open. "All right."
They walked a dozen steps in quiet, the air cool and salt-sweet. A heron skimmed low across the water, its reflection breaking into silver ripples.
"Tonight…" Alexis said softly, "you solved a problem without making a bigger one. For the academy. Protected the dorm and my name." She toyed with the hem of her sleeve. "You're good at that. Untangling things."
Julian kept his gaze on the lake. "Sometimes you don't need a sword. Sometimes you need a pair of scissors."
A beat passed. She drew a breath like someone stepping into cold water. "There's… another knot I can't cut." Her voice thinned, cautious. "My brother. Atticus."
Julian didn't look surprised. "King Atticus." he said, gently. "I read everything in the archives I could find—top of his year, Zane's closest rival, disappearance tied to the abandoned dorm."
That startled her. "You… researched him?"
He tilted his head. "You don't vanish from a place like this without leaving a shadow. And anyone serious about Duel Academy learns who shaped it. He and Zane practically built the reputation of Central Academy being over the others in the last few years."
For a moment her throat tightened: the way he said it, without pity, without the careful pauses people used around her. Just fact, and respect.
"I want to know what happened." she said quietly. "They say the abandoned dorm is cursed, that something down there swallowed him. The faculty don't talk about it. Fontaine only tells us to stay away. But I can't just leave it alone."
Julian's gaze didn't waver. "You think I can help."
"I think," she said, lifting her eyes to meet his, "you see things from angles other people miss. You notice patterns. You find truths you shouldn't have access to. Maybe that could help me find my brother — or at least find out why he's gone. I don't care if the trail leads to rumors or… things people don't put in reports. I want the truth. Or at least enough of it to stop waking up at three a.m."
Julian didn't hesitate. "Consider it done."
She blinked. "Just like that? No conditions? No trade?"
He smiled—small, genuine, the kind that softened the intellect in his face. "Just like that. Call it a future investment." He took a step closer, voice lowering. "You're worth it."
For once Alexis Rhodes, the composed top student of the Obelisk Blue girls' dorm, had no reply. Her breath caught. He leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to her forehead: nothing showy, just a quiet promise sealed in warmth and salt air.
"I don't have supernatural sight or a crystal ball." Julian said, plain and steady, "But I have time, patience, and a very stubborn brain. I'll help you. Whatever I can do: digging, watching, connecting dots. We'll get to the bottom of this."
Color rose to her cheeks despite the night. She started to speak, then didn't. The wind moved the reeds: a buoy at the lake knocking softly against its chain.
"Thank you." she finally said, and the words carried more weight than politeness.
He stepped a half-inch closer — no rush, no performance — and lifted a hand, tucking a loose strand of her golden hair behind her. The brief touch wasn't a claim so much as a promise: I see you. I'll show up.
Alexis exhaled, a tiny, surprised laugh. "You're impossible."
"Frequently." Julian smiled. "It tends to help."
They walked the last stretch to the path where their routes split — one lane rising toward the Obelisk bridge, the other bending back toward the Yellow dorms.
When he stepped back, she still hadn't moved.
"Goodnight, Alexis."
She managed, barely, "Good night, Julian."
He turned and started down the path toward the main walk, his figure thinning between the lamps until it disappeared into shadow.
Alexis stood by the lake long after his footsteps faded into the quiet. The words still echoed: future investment.
Normally, a phrase like that would have made her bristle. It had the tone of the Obelisk boys who spoke in ledgers and trophies, the ones who weighed people like cards in a deck. If it had come from anyone else, she would have taken it as arrogance: a claim, not a compliment.
But somehow, from him, it hadn't felt that way. Maybe it was the way he'd said it: steady, unforced, without that glint of ownership that usually lived behind words like "worth." Maybe it was because, for the first time since she'd met him, the logic had fallen away. No calculus, no careful positioning, no measured phrasing to make sure he came out ahead. Just something human, as if beneath the equations and strategies there really was someone who could still believe in people.
She exhaled softly, eyes tracing the silver lines of moonlight trembling across the lake's surface.
"Future investment, huh?" she repeated under her breath, this time less like a quotation, more like a question.
Her reflection looked back at her, rippling. For once, the mirror of the water didn't give her answers.
"I wonder who you really are, Julian Ashford." she said quietly to the lake, and the waves carried the name away into the dark as her steps traced back into her dormitory.