"I don't even know who this girl is…" Baston muttered, "Why is my performance suddenly become good?"
He sat on the edge of his narrow bed. The old book was resting on his knees and its pages faintly warmed beneath his fingers.
The result was there. It was clear and undeniable.
The book had judged his actions favorably and that was the problem for the clueless him. After all, he hadn't meant to do anything today.
He had no plan, no target, and no calculated move. He had only wandered through the academy, eaten a decent steak for dinner, and taken a slow walk to ease his full stomach. Nothing more of those things yet, the old book had responded.
His thoughts retraced the day step by step until they stopped at a single point.
"It was because of Alicia..."
After all, she was the only girl he had spoken to. She was the only one who had looked at him instead of passing him. The realization made his temples throb.
Alicia was a noble and she was not just any noble but a special one.
If the old book's performance metric truly revolved around her interest, then things were already spiraling far beyond what he'd intended.
He never meant to involve such beautiful yet dangerous noble girl. He wanted to pick someone else but it was too late. The quest had to continue and he as the participant had to work toward it.
The old book didn't lie. If it said his performance was good, then it meant something had worked. The interest did not come from affection and romance but from her curiosity.
"That means I can increase it further…" Baston murmured.
Good wasn't enough since the book had never rewarded adequacy. It rewarded excess, going beyond some invisible line only it could see.
Alicia's status indeed made her valuable.
It was risky and dangerous but if he could deepen her curiosity with just enough of his performance, then the reward would be even greater.
He exhaled slowly and a thin smile was tugging at his lips.
"Alright…" he whispered, "Let's see if my acting is good enough."
*****
Meanwhile, Alicia returned to the noble dormitory with quicker steps than usual.
She closed the door, leaning against it and only then she allowed her composure to crack. Her thoughts were a mess but certain moments stood out with disturbing clarity.
In the quiet corner, the fat boy was waiting as if he knew someone would come.
Her accidental reply and his calm acceptance of it. At first, she had dismissed him as a fool grasping for attention. But then, she saw his magic.
It was powerful, dense, and refined. Truthfully, it was impossible since she never heard of it.
She had searched his records the moment she returned.
The fat boy's name was Baston and he had poor background. In this academy, he had no patron and no hidden lineage. He was truly less than a commoner.
However, the fact disturbed her greatly.
The ice magic like that didn't grow in poverty. Tampering with identity was nearly impossible without a great wizard's involvement. Also, the great wizards didn't waste their time on nameless boy.
Besides, it always left traces, rumors, and pressure. It was risky and it would just make a great loss eventually.
As for the cult, she had never heard of it. Even though as a noble's daughter, she should have heard it somewhere.
The information flowed downward for her case. If she even didn't know, then others below didn't either. It might be just a lie yet her doubt lingered.
She had considered reporting him but if he was telling the truth even partially, then alerting the wrong people could cause the enemy to vanish before being exposed. In the end, she chose the silence.
For now, she would follow his rules.
*****
The next day's lesson dragged on as usual where the nobles filled the back rows while the commoners and the poor sat at the front.
Alicia's gaze rested, not on the board, but on Baston's broad back. From behind, he was utterly unremarkable. There was nothing special about him yet, the fact that he could conjure the ice magic within his hands told something different.
He must be hiding something behind such power.
"Alicia, you're really focused today," her friend whispered, "You are always staring at the board."
"Yes… Of course," Alicia replied lightly, pondering whether the other person knew the truth, "If only you knew what I'm really watching…"
*****
The class ended as usual and the chaotic hunting for food started once again.
The cafeteria was noisy, crowded, and lined up with many students.
Baston had just received his meal which was chicken drenched in a fragrant sauce with steam that was curling upward when the table jolted violently.
"CRASH!!!"
The plates were shattered and the juice was spilled. The chicken slid onto the floor, making it a waste.
The silence soon followed with a few noble boys stood nearby.
"Watch where you're going…" one said lazily.
"It's packed here unlike the noble area…" another replied.
They didn't apologize and they didn't even look guilty. They just walked away like they were the most important ones here.
Baston also said nothing and he only stared at the ruined food. He knew better than to retaliate because winning here meant losing later.
The waiter rushed over with his pale and shaken expression, "I… I'm very sorry…"
"It's fine," Baston said quietly, "I'll help clean it."
The waiter hesitated then hurried away to get a broom. Behind Baston, two people stopped at the same time.
"Don't just stand there," Baston muttered without turning, "People are watching..."
"You mean the cult?" Panto whispered.
"They're already inside the cafeteria?" Alicia became serious.
Both of them were frozen after hearing what each of them had said. Then, they instinctively walked away.
In the meantime, Baston never noticed the two of them.
He was still mourning toward his chicken. Though it was free, it was truly a waste to throw it away. If not because of some cocky students, this dish might be able to taste delightfully. He sighed before trying to forget the matter.
There was nothing to do here except going back to his room.
*****
That night, Baston didn't sleep immediately.
The room was quiet, too quiet over what had already happened nowadays. This kind of silence was very weird toward his hectic activity.
The distant footsteps in the corridor, the soft creak of wood settling, and even the faint hum of magic lamps from the room all pressed gently against his awareness.
He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. The old book rested closely beside him. Thankfully, he had eaten well today.
Perhaps, it was too well since his stomach was full and his body was relaxed. Despite so, his mind refused to follow.
It was because two meals were suddenly served at him.
Even though he already ate a sandwich, such free food was always welcomed. Just like before, the one who delivered the meals didn't explain much. The man only smiled upon him before leaving the place.
Such double treatment gnawed at him. Baston had lived long enough in poverty to know that kindness was rarely accidental.
People did not spend money on others without reason. They certainly didn't do it anonymously. There must be a hidden motive behind the meals.
He didn't know what they meant about it but since they had already sent the meals to his door, it was disrespectful to neglect it.
Before, he was thankful of one person but pondering about more than one person, the thought made his fingers curl slightly against the thin blanket.
Slowly, he reached for the old book. The moment his skin touched its cover, the warmth seeped into his palm. It was faint but it was unmistakable.
The book responded not with words but with presence like a living thing that was acknowledging his attention.
"What do you want from me?" he murmured quietly.
The pages did not turn and the old book remained silent as usual.
It was the same reaction like before, yet he just felt the old book was watching him. It just decided to leave him alone. After all, he was just a participant like any other person.
*****
In the meantime, across the academy, Alicia lay awake in her bed while her eyes opened in the darkness.
The canopy curtains blocked out most of the moonlight, leaving the room wrapped in soft shadow. Her breathing was steady, controlled, and perfectly even as any noble lady was trained to maintain. Even though so, her thoughts refused to obey.
The cafeteria scene replayed itself again and again from the shattered plate, the spilled food, and the nobles' indifference. All of them pointed to Baston.
He hadn't shouted, he hadn't argued, and he hadn't even looked angry. Apparently, he had simply accepted it.
That action disturbed her far more than any outburst would have.
Alicia had seen the humiliation before. She had seen the commoners flare up and desperate to reclaim their dignity. She had seen others swallow it whole in dull eyes with resignation.
Baston was neither since there had been something in his silence. It was calculated as if he knew exactly where the line was and chose not to cross it. That kind of self-control didn't come from weakness because it came from experience.
She shifted slightly and the sheets were stretching under her movement. She still remembered what he had said before.
"Don't just stand there… People are watching…"
At the time, she had assumed it was her paranoia. It was only a cautious warning, but now, she felt a chill creep up her spine.
"What if he wasn't wrong?"
"What if someone truly was watching?"
The academy was old and it was older than most people realized. Its wards had been layered over centuries. Most of the things were reinforced, modified, and neglected in some places.
The secrets had a way of surviving in such spots. If a cult truly existed, then this would be the perfect hunting ground.
Alicia soon closed her eyes. For the first time since enrolling, she felt uncertain about the academy's safety.
*****
Meanwhile at the other room, Panto slept poorly.
His dreams were fragmented, tangled with half-remembered whispers and shadows that dissolved the moment he tried to focus on them. When he finally woke, the uneasy sensation kept bugging him.
He sat up on the bed, wiping sweat from his forehead.
"This is getting worse…" he muttered.
Baston's warning echoed in his mind and it was sharper now in retrospect.
Panto had always known that Baston was hiding something. He had suspected it since he had seen his ice magic. The fat boy was excellent yet he chose the harder route to live.
Eventually now, Alicia knew the matter and that was dangerous.
A noble's curiosity was not a small thing. It could become a protection or a death sentence.
Panto dressed quietly. His movements were careful and his thoughts were heavy. If the cult truly existed, then every careless word mattered. And for Baston, he was walking at the sword's edge without even realizing how thin it was.
*****
Another morning came and Baston attended the classes as usual.
He spoke little, answered only when necessary and kept his head down. To most, he remained invisible which was just another poor student who was blending into the front rows.
However, Alicia noticed the way he listened more than he spoke.
The way his gaze flicked briefly toward certain students before moving on. The way he never reacted immediately, always leaving a small pause as if measuring the outcomes before choosing his words.
Once or twice, their eyes met. Each time, Baston looked away first and this simple action unsettled her.
He wasn't avoiding her out of fear. He was avoiding the engagement as if he knew that every interaction with her would become a future trouble.
*****
Meanwhile, the old book remained silent.
It gave no sign and there were no instructions or demands. Still, the pressure did not fade. If anything, it grew heavier.
Baston could feel it during the mundane moments.
When he was walking through the corridors, sitting through lectures, and even standing in line at the cafeteria, the unseen sensation was aligning itself around him. It was slowly tightening like a net.
He realized the old book was not a passive thing. It accumulated every glance that Alicia gave him.
Every unanswered question and every coincidence grew into something. All of it fed into something larger and somewhere deep within the old book, that accumulation was being measured.
If this was how his performance increased, then the reward would not come without cost. Turning back was no longer an option since he had already stepped onto the path.
The old book had noticed his decision.
Baston exhaled slowly and loosened his clenched fists.
If the book was watching, then his recklessness would only hasten whatever judgment that awaited him.
He had survived the first time by restraint, by knowing when to advance and when to stop. This time would be no different. At least, that was what he told himself.
However, even as he lay back on his bed, his thoughts refused to settle.
The old book's silence was heavier than any command. It meant expectation and it meant whatever came next would not be prompted.
Somewhere within the academy, the curiosity was ripening.
Alicia's questions had not been answered, Panto's doubts had not been eased, and Baston himself no longer knew where his performance ended.
He turned his head slightly, glancing at the old book which was resting beside him.
It lay still and it looked harmless with very ordinary appearance. Still, Baston knew better now that the performance was no longer about his action alone.
It was about perception. About how others saw him, misunderstood him, and filled the gaps with their own imagination. If that was the game the old book demanded, then the next move would be far more dangerous than the last.
This time, he wasn't sure who would be caught in the reward or the cost.