124 | experiments; a confirmed suspect

Two professors, both with graying strands of hair caused by stress and not age, stared blankly at the scattered pieces of papers spread across them in the small apartment building.

It was an attached building to the school where most professors stayed. Others were given the freedom of movement, but the two had been closely monitored over the years.

The room was kept neat with polished wooden furniture and small plants decorating the windowsill, a crack of air allowed to circulate inside.

The evening had ushered the Academy to silence, a dull lamp glowing on the center of the wooden dining table, just enough to fit two.

"These reports..."

The reports from the Academy research group had come to a conclusion after investigating the components of the deceased blood and the distortion of their bodies.

There had been a stagnation in the research with two of the key investigators both on a mysterious vacation.

However, the deceased had been investigated more thoroughly. There were no abnormalities in their lives, displaying no signs of an outburst.

When investigating the victimology, there could no relations drawn between them. Many were students of the Academy who had graduated or were yet to enroll. The thought was frightening.

The murderer had an extensive list and resources to determine who would be entering the Academy in the following year.

However, there were several related points.

A few of the victims had told a friend or family that they had received a job opportunity or were heading out on a date. Their disappearance happened shortly after.

This hinted that the murders were intentional and not a coincidence, as some speculated. Then, the research reached a breakthrough.

On one of the deceased, there was a barely discernible pinpoint, as if a needle had been inserted.

Either their blood had been drawn, or something had been injected. The investigators rushed to examine the other bodies, studying them in more detail.

Some bodies were too mutilated and distorted with the effects of the Reversal, but several more needle points had been found.

"It's something unrealistic, highly improbable," rambled Raymond, pushing up his glasses high as horror glinted off his pupils. "It's... it's as if the murderer was experimenting on the bodies, drawing blood, and injecting an unknown substance. They were purposely forcing Reversals to occur—for what? Examination?"

Alexander's eyebrows furrowed. "If we draw similarities to the tragedy from years ago..."

Raymond's hand curled around a handful of papers as they crinkled, his knuckles turning painfully white. In the low flickering of the candle, his face looked particularly haunted.

The wind whistled outside like the drawn-out whispers of a faraway scream.

Raymond trembled and Alexander looked at him quietly.

Decades ago, when they had been students in preparation to graduate, Raymond, Alexander, and their deceased friend Lucas had been a close-knit trio.

The three were slightly older than the regular age of those who attended and bonded over that similarity.

The weather had been in a constant stream of gloominess, matching the fear and tension weaving into the Academy halls.

A spike of Reversals had befallen them, a series of students found dead after the other. Alexander, with his scrutinizing and doubtful gaze, had noticed the changes in Lucas.

A restlessness that wasn't there before, his lover whom he'd met outside—that they all befriended—hardly spoken of.

Lucas had told them he was preparing to move into the mansion in the woods he'd bought with all his savings, set to live a peaceful and quiet life.

One day, after being rejected by Lucas several times, it was Alexander who arrived at the house. He'd befriended Lucas' wife and was worried by the deflection of her health and wellbeing.

Alexander was one with strong instincts, and the nausea and headaches plaguing him were foreboding.

Nobody answered the door. Eventually, his polite knocking turned violent—it was possible that the family, with their newly born daughter, could simply be on a trip, but it didn't feel right.

He snatched an axe embedded in wood around the side of the house, slamming it into the window. Glass splintered, scattering across the ground and he climbed inside, dismissing the shards that scraped his skin.

Red drops hung against the shattered window, beading at the tips of broken glass.

It was a red that could not compare to the scene painted before him. A woman on the ground, her long hair splayed around a closed, distorted face that was peeling and melting at the edges.

Ashes blanketed the room, sticking to the carpet as half her dress was turned to soot, and darkness corroded her body.

A hand with crumbling fingers, three pitifully clinging onto a deadly blade, was slicked with blood.

Blood seeped from an unmoving and slender neck.

Alexander's mind had swarmed, the young man in his mid-twenties, who'd entered the Academy late and graduated even later when Lucas failed his classes and was held back.

The three, in the spring of their adulthood years, had remained together loyally.

What was this ending?

He swallowed, before the illusionary wail of a young child rung in his head. It wasn't real, but the echoes of the cry reminded him of their young child.

He gritted his teeth as he stood on the bloody carpet, standing by the shattered window that illuminated the dead body.

Then, he turned and rushed upstairs.

Much of the furniture had been corroded into dust or blacked at the corners as if licked by the edges of a blazing fire.

A Reversal, he recognized, or the beginnings of one. Perhaps the entire mansion would've collapsed into ruins and ashes had she not ended her life.

Then, he felt a spark of fear. What triggered her Reversal? Lucas was seeking a cure, that Alexander knew.

She was careful, even if she could only control it to a certain extent. Her end should not have come yet. Or was that simply their wistful desire, praying she had an eternity waiting for her?

The silence suffocated him. He tore through cabinets, blankets, and beds. Looked in every room and corner.

There was no child in sight.

He was standing in the master bedroom, sweat slicking his pale forehead and despair pulling his features.

Then, as he turned, he heard the low growl of a beast. They were deep in the forests, so it wasn't impossible for creatures of various kinds to invade.

Typically, Lucas kept a barrier crafted from tools and spells sourced from various Blessed, but it'd been a long time since he returned.

Alexander threw his hands up as the beast shrouded in shadows lunged, sharp claws raking into his arm.

The man groaned in pain and the beast raised its nose to the air, sniffing. Its dark, empty eyes flickered, dragging across the room. It landed on a small wooden box that had fallen to the ground in the chaos.

Alexander's eyes widened. He did not know why, but he felt he should not let the beast grab it.

He lunged, but the beast was faster.

It snatched the box with its jagged teeth, leaping into the forest. Alexander, bleeding profusely could do nothing but watch.

Later, Lucas arrived to see his beloved in a pool of blood. Alexander found out even later that his friend returned the unconscious him to the Academy to treat his injuries.

Then Lucas disappeared.

When they found him again, it was at the gallows, on the eve of his execution.

The one responsible for the chain of deaths was him. Their friend who had remained by their side for so many years. Lucas lifted his weary gaze, catching their eyes with a pained look.

His face was weathered and haggard, and regrets pooled in his eyes. However, his lips curled slightly in farewell as Raymond screamed, and Alexander's body shook.

Now, the past was repeating itself.

After that event, the Academy had strengthened its rules, monitoring each student carefully and quickly snatching any teenagers who displayed signs of being Blessed.

Over the years, they started to relax again. But with the recent repeat of events, they became incredibly strict.

Information was regulated and limited—Raymond had received a harsh scolding after exposing the truth of the Reversals to one of his first-year classes, years ago.

But he refused to apologize. Hiding the truth would not save them, nor prevent death from occurring.

Lies begets lies.

Alexander studied his friend across the table, a face still young but aging throughout the years. They were no longer young, and it was not their battle anymore.

It was those youths that had become twisted in the repeat of the past—he just hoped it would not end in another tragedy.

"I've studied the people who have rented out the mansion," started Raymond, speaking quickly, as he did when his thoughts were crowding and had nowhere to leave. "It's strange, we've lent it out to several students of the Academy. Tracing back the first traces of death, it was around 5 years ago."

The first strange death hadn't been noted as significant because there was only one. A mere misfortune.

Alexander frowned. "Five years ago... pass me the records."

His eyes skimmed the papers. It was hard to remember the names of all their students—although Raymond could, was his mind not always distracted.

His head twisted.

In the thick stack of records, his eyes fixated on one collection of people. It was a research group that wanted to study certain elements in the surrounding forest.

A first year of students. Three years ago, when the cases sharply spiked, they would've been in their third year.

It was a large group. His eyes landed on a woman's name—Nicola Akasha.

Then, the name below.

"We leave to the palace immediately."

Alexander slammed the papers on the table and turned to grab his coat, shrugging on the long sleeves as the glowing lamp reflected in his cold gaze.

Raymond pushed his glasses, nodding in confusion as he scrambled to organize the papers, hurrying to grab his jacket.

"What? What happened? What's wrong?"

There were many names in the records, so Raymond hadn't noticed the abnormality. After all, with so many students, he wouldn't suspect them all.

Raymond was not a naturally suspicious character.

But Alexander was.

The accusation against the crown could be blasphemy, he could be arrested and locked in the dungeons. But Alexander had never been one to care about consequences, always acting.

They would have to fill out a report later—but whatever. It wasn't like Alexander hadn't filled out hundreds of reports explaining his actions, and been held under lockdown multiple times.

It was late into the evening by the time they arrived at the palace gates. The two professors were reputable, both wearing impassive expressions as they ordered to be let in.

The guards, knowing the vague and mysterious identity of the professors from the Academy, didn't dare refuse.

Raymond let out a sigh as the carriage rolled in. "I'll never get used to being treated like that. It's simply because the Academy's identity is so mysterious—ah?"

His gaze widened. There were dozens of people rushing around the carriage, the lights all on and noise rumbling through the building.

Something wasn't right.

They rushed out of the carriage, hurrying inside. The few servants were too hurried to notice them, running back and forth.

Following the source of the chaos, they arrived in a hall laid with a decadent and intricate carpet, gold curling and twisting along the walls.

The double and grand doors to the only room in the hallway were opened, light spilling out and people speaking loudly inside.

Before they could move, the door creaked further, and a slender young man walked out. His golden hair curled on his head, displaying a youthful and sweet appearance, but his sky-blue eyes were devoid of light.

He recognized them in moments—and they felt the same.

"Your Highness," Alexander straightened his back, staring at the youth before him collectedly. Raymond couldn't help his eyes darting curiously at the door. "Forgive our rudeness, but we've come to seek an audience with the Crown Prince."

"The time," said the man quietly as his eyes flicked sideways, a touch of delight pooling in them. "Is not appropriate."

Alexander had no intention of backing down.

"Then what would be an appropriate time, Your Highness?"

Skye's chilling gaze finally registered the professor clearly and he smiled. "There is no time. I don't know where he is."

"What do you mean—"

"Ah, but he'll return soon. If he returns, he'll bring Kaden back too." Happiness laced his voice. "They'll come back soon because their enemy no longer exists."

"What are you referring to—"

Skye's smile widened, almost innocent yet the cheerful delight of his voice contradicted his words. "The King is dead."

Raymond's glasses slipped, falling onto the carpeted ground with a light thud. The voices in the background blurred, leaving only the smiling prince.

The King had been rumoured to be in poor health for years, but with few servants allowed inside the castle, and reports and control operating normally, nobody had dared to seek evidence.

Alexander thought of other things.

Who was commanding the troupes? Who wrote all the paperwork, submitting reports and orders?

His heart chilled.

If the King was ill enough to fall to death...

...who was ruling their Kingdom?

"Your Highness. Where is your brother?"

Skye frowned, pushing air into his cheeks. "He left me. Although I was willing to give him everything. He always," his breath faltered, turning icy. "Leaves."

His voice drifted as if dreaming. "And that woman told me all those things... but it's not true. It's not possible. He can't die."

The slender body swayed, and Alexander took a step in front of Raymond. The two princes always gave a strange, uncomfortable feeling, but the man's state didn't seem right.

That student, Kaden Chauvet, had also given a strange feeling. He had to wonder if it was because he was caught in the elaborate web of royalty.

That young man did not deserve his ending.

For that reason, Alexander had been quick to agree to Holly's request for help.

The flow of information surged through him and he had no time to reorganize his thoughts.

Tentatively, he decided to ignore the issue of the King's death. It was important, and a surge of change would approach the Kingdom, but there was a graver issue.

The possible mastermind behind it all.

"The brother I refer to isn't Kaden Chauvet." Skye mumbled how he couldn't die—then was that student alive? Alexander's frown deepened. "Where is the Crown Prince, Reed Chauvet?"

Skye's pupils constricted and he chewed on his lip, teetering on the edge of insanity.

Suddenly, he stalked up to them and grabbed Alexander's wrist. The teacher was old, but he wasn't weak. He snatched away his hand, eyes narrowing.

Skye simply opened and closed his hand with some disgust. The round and innocent gaze sharpened.

"You don't feel entirely disgusting."

"What?"

Raymond was the one who spoke this time, slowly. He held out his hand in offering. Skye scrunched his nose, reluctantly tapping his write before yanking his hand away.

Before Alexander could question, Raymond explained quietly.

"His blessing is hard to describe. You can say it is something like intention or thoughts. Through touch, he can accurately sense a person's intention, like a second intuition."

Skye stared at them thoughtfully. Seeing that the prince didn't stop him, Raymond continued.

"The blessing of the two princes seemed to have been forcefully awoken at an early age. It's not uncommon in royalty or noble families who are aware of the existence of the Blessed."

Greedy nobles who hoped that their children would be Blessed found a means to forcefully awaken them before the normal age.

It was an unsafe and dangerous ritual that could lead to death. However, for a young child to face an onslaught of power rushing through their undeveloped body, was an incredibly painful process.

For Reed Chauvet, it manifested in an accident where he cursed a person he never wanted to.

For Skye Chauvet, it exposed the already strange child to the filthy thoughts of society before he even learned what was right and wrong.

Skye slipped his hand into his pocket, rubbing a tool safely tucked in. He stared silently for a moment like a cautious wolf determining who were his allies and who were his foes.

"I placed a tracker on one of the Crown Prince's guards." He turned around, walking away without a word.

The professors followed him into a dark room, where a giant and weathered map was spread out on a table. Skye tilted his head, eyes hovering over the map before he spun a knife between his fingers, slamming into a faraway distance.

He frowned, eyebrows knitting. The location was away from any towns or key locations, entirely obscure and strange.

And yet,

"This is where he is."

———xxx———

Lukiyo says,

We steadily approach the finale! Once more, thank you for journeying this far with me. No amount of gratefulness will be able to express how much I appreciate you.

See you on Sunday ^^