Theron returned to his abode.
The fatigue that had been on his brows moments before vanished, leaving him breathing evenly as though he hadn’t just gone through a rigorous workout.
They had really put them through the paces. But compared to his training as an assassin, it was little more than a joke.
Right now, he had more pressing matters to deal with.
How should he handle the next few years? Should he transfer Imperial Academies? But how would he handle the Assassin’s Guild situation if he did so?
Should he even bother still killing Yonowai considering the danger? He had originally only wanted to use this as a method to relieve himself of some pressure and gather more information.
What he didn’t expect was for Teacher Burne to have such a mask-off moment today.
Of course, it was incredibly subtle, and most didn’t even understand what they had heard. But the fact Theron understood was enough.
Spirit Mancers were incredibly sensitive to the changes in others’ emotions. Theron might be good at hiding his intentions, but there was a reason Burne kept looking at him. His control wasn’t to the point where he could hide from a Gold Mancer.
It wasn’t that exaggerated, but there was no doubt that Burne would keep an eye on him whenever he could manage it.
‘Is it my fault?’
The thought came out of nowhere, but Theron was finding it hard to believe that it was a coincidence.
The death of Merchant Greycoat obviously had many implications and strings attached to it that he wasn’t aware of before. And now, all of these dominoes were falling one after another.
This time, it was little more than intuition, but he was being tugged in that direction nonetheless.
There was also a reason the mission to kill Yonowai had been at the Guild. The same reason Merchant Greycoat’s mission kept popping up despite the fact there was a tacit agreement to not complete it.
He had been caught in the middle of the storm before he even understood that he was in danger to begin with.
‘If that’s the case, then there’s only one course of action to take.’
Theron looked to the blank grey walls around him. With a smooth motion, he picked up the short sword and dagger sheathed to the wall.
It was time for his training. Tonight, he would kill.
He had taken Malaya out on a Friday. Since then, a weekend had passed.
Today was a Monday. According to the mission requirements, the best time to kill Yonowai was a Friday while he was inebriated at the Purple Scale Teahouse. So, of course…
He would kill him on a Tuesday.
**
That night, Theron left the academy with slow strides. By the gates, a fidgeting Malaya was waiting for him. Somehow this time, she was even more nervous than before.
Theron hadn’t even called out to her before sunset this time. She could practically already see the sliver of the moon above them.
Was it really alright for them to be going out so late? Especially in the middle of the week like this?
But she just couldn’t say no.
Last time, after Theron spent so long in the bathroom, he admitted that he had gotten very nervous and had some… trouble. After he was so open with her, Malaya—forever the people pleaser—didn’t want to be the reason his day was ruined.
Now, she stupidly found herself agreeing to yet another date when she knew that she should have said no.
They had wasted an entire day in the training field, so there hadn’t been any chance to study like she usually would. She should definitely be in the library right now, but here she was.
“I’m happy you came,” Theron said with a smile.
The words Malaya wanted to say were caught in her throat. For some reason, Theron seemed larger tonight.
He was still wearing his Imperial Scholar garb, a beautiful sweeping combination of white, violet, and gold. But it had none of the signs of wear and tear from the earlier hardship.
None of them had gotten a chance to change on the field today. She had no idea when Theron had the time to clean his uniform.
The thought of him having more than one crossed her mind, but even the academy only ever issued one for the purpose of discipline.
Before she could gather her thoughts, her head went blank.
Theron took her hand and led her away.
Malaya felt as though her head might implode. Steam practically rose out of her hair and ears, her collarbone going so red it looked purple beneath the dark hues of dusk.
Her tongue was entirely tied, and she barely registered when Theron spoke again.
“Two tickets to the show, please.”
“Yes, of course, young noble.”
Theron led Malaya into a theater, and they took their seats as the lights dimmed.
The stage ahead shuddered as the curtains shifted. Soon, the night’s host had appeared.
“Ladies and gentlemen! We have a great show prepared for you all tonight!”
Theron had long let go of Malaya’s hand, but all she could seem to focus on was the warmth that had just been there. Half the show had gone by before she finally snapped away, and that was only because Theron whispered into her ear.
The warmth of his breath sent a jolt of electricity down her spine, and she almost fainted again.
“I’ll be back. I’ll try to get us some snacks on the way back.”
Malaya nodded absentmindedly, gripping onto her dress tightly as Theron shifted past her.
How the hell had this ended up happening to her again?
What she didn’t know was that the boy who left her flustered had completely changed the moment he left the theater.
Slinking off into the night, the cold blue of Theron’s eyes left streaks in the darkness.
Today, there was no rain. That was unfortunate.
He’d just have to make his own.