The academy didn't burst with gossip.
It crystallized.
By evening, the eastern wing felt colder—not in temperature, but in atmosphere. Students didn't gather in the corridor outside my clinic. They didn't laugh or whisper. They slowed as they passed, voices dropping, eyes flicking toward the plaque before darting away as if caught doing something wrong.
Discretion wasn't respect.
It was fear, mixed with curiosity sharp enough to cut.
I noticed it when I stepped out for dinner.
The dining hall was packed, noise bouncing off the vaulted ceilings as usual, but the moment I entered, the volume dropped. Not to silence, just a subtle reduction, like someone had turned down the volume.
Marcus spotted me right away.
"Over here!" he called, waving with both hands like he was trying to signal a plane.
I grimaced and crossed the hall anyway.
"You look like you wrestled a demon and lost," he said, sliding a plate toward me. "Eat."
I sat down heavily. "Did you hear?"
He snorted. "Everyone heard. The question is—which version?"
I paused mid-bite. "Versions?"
"Oh yeah." He leaned in, eyes bright. "Apparently you either cured Professor Thorne by sacrificing your virginity in a forbidden ritual, or you hypnotized her into debauchery using cursed touch-magic, or—my personal favorite—you're secretly a love priest chosen by a pleasure goddess."
I stared at him.
"…I hate all of those."
"Too late," Marcus said cheerfully. "They're spreading."
I rubbed my temples. "What about Seraphina?"
His grin widened. "Ah. That rumor."
I didn't like the sound of that.
"Which is?"
"That the Ice Duke's daughter visited your clinic," he said. "And walked out without frostbite for the first time in years."
My stomach tightened.
"How many people know?"
"By tomorrow morning?" He shrugged. "Everyone."
I exhaled slowly. "That was fast."
"Nobles have servants," Marcus said. "Servants have mouths."
I nodded. That made sense.
"What are they saying?" I asked.
"That she screamed," Marcus said immediately.
I choked on my drink. "She did not."
"I know," he said. "But that's the story."
I set the cup down hard. "That's dangerous."
"Welcome to politics," Marcus said, suddenly less amused. "If they can't control you, they'll define you."
I finished eating quickly after that.
The backlash began the next morning.
Not loud, not overt.
Just… pressure.
My clinic schedule was suddenly full for the next three weeks.
Not with emergencies—just requests.
Minor aches, mild fatigue. "Preventive checkups." Students who absolutely didn't need immediate healing but were suddenly very interested in "consultation."
Half of them withdrew when they read the consent forms.
The other half hesitated—then signed.
I turned away more patients in one day than I treated.
Not because I wanted to—but because I had to.
My stamina wasn't endless. Neither was my focus. And something about the way some of them looked at me made my skin crawl—not desire, but entitlement.
By midday, a new problem appeared.
A group of Support Arts students—traditional healers—had positioned themselves near the corridor entrance.
Not blocking it.
Just… present.
Watching.
When I stepped out to stretch my legs, their conversation went conspicuously quiet.
One of them—a third-year with light-magic sigils stitched into his robe—met my gaze with open contempt.
"So," he said loudly. "This is where the academy's standards have fallen."
I stopped.
"Excuse me?" I asked calmly.
He smiled thinly. "Healing through indulgence. Through bodily weakness. It's vulgar."
Several students nearby slowed, sensing trouble.
"Professor Thorne is alive because of that 'vulgarity,'" I replied evenly.
"Temporary," he scoffed. "Corrupt methods always leave residue."
"That's false," I said. "The diagnostics confirmed—"
"Diagnostics you performed," he cut in. "Convenient."
I took a breath. "If you have a formal concern, bring it to the Headmistress."
"Oh, we will," he said. "But don't think this makes you untouchable."
Before I could respond, a voice sliced through the tension like ice shattering glass.
"He is untouchable."
Seraphina Valdris stood at the end of the corridor.
She hadn't raised her voice.
She didn't need to.
Frost crawled along the stone beneath her feet, thin and precise, stopping just short of the group of healers. Her expression was cool, her eyes sharp enough to flay.
"Unless," she continued, "you wish to explain to my father why you harassed the man treating my curse."
Silence.
The light-magic student swallowed. "Lady Valdris, we meant no—"
"Leave," she said.
They did.
Immediately.
When the corridor cleared, she turned to me.
"You should have summoned security," she said.
"I was handling it," I replied.
She studied me for a moment. "You shouldn't have to."
I shrugged. "Welcome to being inconvenient."
Her lips curved faintly. "Indeed."
She stepped closer, lowering her voice. "The rumors are incorrect."
"I assumed as much."
"But they will grow," she said. "And they will become uglier."
"I know."
She hesitated, then added, "My father will hear of this. He will not be pleased."
"With me?" I asked.
"With anyone who endangers his heir," she said flatly. "That includes the academy."
That sent a chill down my spine.
"You didn't have to intervene," I said quietly.
"Yes, I did," she replied. "You are treating me. That makes you… mine."
The possessiveness in her tone was subtle—but unmistakable.
Before I could respond, she straightened.
"Our next session," she said. "Move it forward."
"That soon?" I asked. "Your body—"
"Handled the first contact better than expected," she said. "The residual sensation hasn't faded."
That caught my attention. "Still?"
She nodded once. "Especially when I sleep."
Interesting.
"That means the suppression layer didn't fully reassert," I said. "Accelerated adaptation."
"Can it be exploited?" she asked.
"Yes," I said. "But it will require increased intensity."
Her gaze didn't waver. "Then prepare."
She turned and left without another word.
I stood there for several seconds, processing.
Then the system chimed.
[Curse Adaptation Detected]
[Treatment Efficiency +5%]
[Next Session Threshold Increased]
I exhaled slowly.
The academy wasn't just watching anymore.
It was choosing sides.
And Seraphina Valdris had just made her position very clear.