Chapter 127: See You After School

Chapter 127: Chapter 127: See You After School

Chapter 127: See You After School

"Did you do this?"

Faye Larkin’s question was very light.

Cyrus Calder looked at the notebooks returned to her desk, then at the three girls walking away with their heads lowered more carefully than usual. The morning classroom noise rose around them, but for a moment, the space between his desk and hers felt oddly quiet.

"It is not important," he said.

Faye’s fingers tightened slightly on the notebook at the top of the stack.

Cyrus’s tone softened a little before he continued.

"No one wants to see a friend made uncomfortable by something like that. Do not let yourself suffer because of someone else’s purpose."

Faye looked at him without moving.

"If you do not mind," Cyrus added, "I can keep refusing people for you."

The words landed more heavily than he expected.

Faye fell silent.

Her lips parted as if she wanted to answer, but no sound came out. There were too many things crowded in her throat, and none of them could be explained properly in the middle of the classroom.

He had not told her to become stronger.

He had not asked why she could not refuse by herself.

He had not looked at her with disappointment, impatience, or the easy kindness of someone who believed weakness could be fixed if the weak person simply tried harder.

He had only seen that she was having a hard time.

Then he had placed himself beside her, not as a judge, but as a friend willing to help carry a little of it.

That made her chest warm in a way that was difficult to bear.

"Thank you," Faye said at last.

The girl hidden beneath her quiet hair moved her throat once, as if trying to push more words out. In the end, only those two words remained.

Friend.

Was that what this was?

The feeling was warmer than she had imagined.

Cyrus gave a small nod. The corner of his mouth lifted faintly before he returned his attention to his own desk.

Maybe being friends with Faye counted as another kind of safeguard.

Friends helped each other. Humans seemed to treat that as natural. If he helped Faye refuse troublesome classmates, and Faye occasionally helped him with ordinary school life, food, or information, that was not a debt trap. It was cooperation.

More importantly, Faye felt different from most people who looked at him.

Cyrus knew better than anyone how much appearance changed treatment. At school, with his hair lowered and his presence dimmed, he was a forgettable background student. At The Full Moon Lounge, after cleaning up and standing under warm lights, he became someone customers watched, tipped, approached, and wanted to touch.

Other people’s eyes changed first.

Their attitudes followed.

With Faye, Cyrus had the faint feeling that whether he looked plain or striking, weak or polished, ordinary or dangerous, her attitude toward him would remain the same.

That was rare.

The first two morning classes passed quickly.

When the bell rang for the next break, Cyrus closed his book and stood.

The school nurse’s office was always crowded during lunch. Students who wanted to avoid eating in the cafeteria, dodge gym, or trade gossip seemed to understand instinctively that Vera Sable’s office had become a safe harbor for laziness. If Cyrus went at lunch, the chances of speaking to Vera privately would be too low.

A short break between classes was better.

With his small wallet heavier than usual in his pocket, Cyrus walked to the nurse’s office and stopped outside the door. He looked through the window first.

No students.

Vera was alone.

Only then did he knock.

A soft voice came from inside.

"Come in."

Cyrus opened the door.

Vera looked up from behind her desk. The moment she saw him, her lazy smile grew more interested.

"You are here again," she said. "What happened this time?"

"I need to buy medicine."

"Is that so?"

The answer sounded delayed, as if she had already thought of something else and only then remembered to act like a medical professional.

Cyrus became alert.

His instincts told him this woman had developed some kind of bad idea.

Vera straightened lazily in her chair and opened a drawer. She took out a folder and flipped through a few papers with a casualness that did not quite hide how closely she was watching him.

"Which class are you in again? What is your name?"

"Senior advisory three. Cyrus Calder."

"Cyrus Calder," Vera repeated, her tone turning thoughtful.

She scanned the page in front of her and made a soft, professional sound.

Cyrus kept his guard up.

In the next breath, Vera stated the name of the medicine, the dosage, the remaining supply schedule, the regular price, and the discounted price after applying the ten percent reduction.

Cyrus paused.

So she was actually professional.

He reached for his wallet.

Before he finished taking out the money, Vera spoke again.

"Come pick it up before dismissal. Pay then too."

"All right."

Vera’s posture remained normal. Her hands stayed on the folder. No strange movement followed, and her smile did not immediately turn into a trap.

Cyrus silently relaxed a little.

He turned to leave.

Vera’s voice followed him.

"By the way, have you had any memory loss recently?"

Cyrus stopped.

He turned back at once.

Vera sat behind the desk with her delicate face arranged into harmless curiosity, as if she had only asked whether he had been sleeping well. Her eyes curved slightly, too bright beneath that soft expression.

Cyrus’s heart gave a sharp, quiet beat.

Before he could speak, the warning bell rang in the hallway.

The sound cut through the room and broke the silence first.

"You..."

"Oh dear," Vera said, smiling. "Class is starting."

She lifted one hand and waved lightly, as if she had not just reached directly into the center of his current problem.

"See you after school."

Cyrus stood still for another breath.

Then he turned and left.

Did Vera know about the ring?

During the next two morning classes, Cyrus listened without truly hearing much of the lessons. His eyes remained on the board, and his pen occasionally moved across the page, but his thoughts kept circling back to the school nurse.

Memory loss.

She had not asked about dizziness, fever, fainting, or ordinary side effects. She had asked whether he had lost memories.

That was too specific.

As soon as the lunch bell rang, Cyrus went back to the nurse’s office.

This time, reality matched his earlier expectation. Several girls were inside, laughing over school gossip with the complete lack of shame unique to students who believed they had found a loophole in the day. Vera sat among them with an iced drink, listening as if the nurse’s office existed primarily to collect campus entertainment.

Cyrus did not enter.

He was not stupid enough to discuss the ring or memory loss in front of a room full of gossiping students.

He stepped away from the door and lifted his hand, looking at the plain ring on his finger.

For some reason, he felt as if Vera had tugged a thread around him and then let it go.

Was that only his imagination?

It might have been related to the medicine. Maybe suppressants had rare side effects he did not know about. Maybe memory loss was something Vera had reason to ask because of his prescription. Maybe his own anxiety had made the question sound more dangerous than it was.

That explanation was possible.

It was not convincing enough.

Cyrus returned to the classroom and ate the lunch Daphne Whitlock had prepared for him.

The food was still good. Daphne’s cooking had improved with unfair speed, and the lunch box had been packed neatly, with enough care that even suspicion could not ruin the texture of the food itself.

Unfortunately, eating with a question stuck in his head made the meal less satisfying.

Food tasted better when survival problems stayed quiet.

He had almost finished when he sensed a stare growing steadily hotter.

Cyrus lifted his eyes.

Audra Sloane sat not far away, watching him with a cool,幽幽 gaze that looked calm only if someone had no ability to detect pressure. Once she had his attention, she raised one finger and pointed lightly upward.

Fourth floor.

The empty classroom.

Cyrus understood.

He nodded.

After thinking for a moment, he took out the notebook from their earlier class and lifted it slightly toward her.

Audra understood as well.

They would study.

She rose from her seat.

For reasons Cyrus did not know, a faint smile appeared in her eyes. It was small and gone quickly, but that brief softness seemed to melt a little of the cold elegance around her.

Several students still in the classroom forgot to look away.

Had they just seen Audra Sloane smile?

Not the polite kind she used when speaking to teachers. Not the controlled expression she kept when classmates praised her. A real smile, even if it had lasted only an instant.

By the time anyone tried to confirm it, Audra had already left the room.

The fourth-floor classroom was quiet when Cyrus arrived a few minutes later.

Audra had come first. This time, she had not closed the curtains. Light from the hallway entered through the glass, and the windows overlooking the campus remained partly open, letting in a cool current of air. Desks and chairs sat in their old arrangement from when the two of them had used this place for tutoring.

Cyrus stepped inside.

Audra looked up.

"Is the ring’s influence still all right today?" he asked first.

"There has not been any serious problem."

"That is good."

The exchange was simple, almost routine.

They sat in their familiar places. Audra took the seat across from him, and Cyrus opened his notebook, placing the homework packet beside it. The position made the classroom feel strangely like the period before everything became complicated by glamourkin artifacts, apologies, and controlled blank spaces in his memory.

During the time without tutoring, Cyrus’s grades had continued to improve, but the improvement had not been dramatic. He had reached roughly the top fifteen in class, which was decent enough for someone who had started with missing background knowledge and too many nights at work.

Compared to Audra, who remained near the top of the entire grade, the gap was still obvious.

Cyrus asked questions the way he used to, though not as often as before. Some problems he could now solve alone. Others he marked first, then brought to Audra only after checking his own reasoning. It made the tutoring quieter than it had been in the beginning.

The room settled into a soft rhythm.

Page turning. Pen strokes. A short question from Cyrus. A brief explanation from Audra. Silence again.

Audra rested her chin lightly on one hand and watched him while pretending to read the problem he had pointed out. He was sitting close enough for her to see the bandage on his finger, the faint mark that remained where the scrape near his face had nearly vanished, and the way his attention kept drifting before he forced it back.

The ring was not the only thing on his mind.

After a long stretch of quiet, Audra spoke.

"You seem distracted today."

Cyrus looked up from the notebook.

"Yes. I ran into a small matter."

"Is it serious?"

"It should not be too serious."

Audra nodded and did not continue pressing.

She wanted to ask more.

She wanted him to tell her things without needing to be pushed. She wanted to become the kind of person he would look for when something troubled him, not because of a ring, not because of an exchange of information, but because he believed she belonged near the answer.

How long would they need to stay like this before he would answer every question she asked?

Progress was slow.

Still, without relying on the ring’s influence, perhaps everything would begin moving in a better direction.

It had to, eventually.

The afternoon classes carried a dull but unavoidable weight. Cyrus forced himself to listen. Vera’s question remained in his mind like a hook caught beneath skin, but the teachers did not stop assigning work simply because a school nurse might know too much about his missing memories.

When the final bell finally rang, Cyrus saw a rare crowd in the hallway.

Students poured out of classrooms in layers, filling the corridor with bags, voices, and movement. Some stopped to wait for friends. Others hurried toward clubs or the front gate. The density made the building feel warmer than it should have.

Cyrus moved through them and headed for the nurse’s office.

By the time he arrived, the door was half open.

Inside, the room was empty.

No gossiping girls. No injured students avoiding practice. No Vera at the desk with an iced drink and a smile that knew too much.

Only the quiet room remained, with the cabinets closed, the chair pulled back slightly, and the afternoon light lying across the floor.

Cyrus stood at the entrance.

For a moment, he did not move.

Then his gaze lowered to the ring on his finger.

The feeling of being pulled around returned.