IlaravonSylvain moved first.
She didn't look back, didn't give any signal—she simply turned around and walked.
Her steps were calm and steady, as if what had just happened in the hall wasn't enough to disrupt her rhythm.
The three second-year students followed her without looking around.
They were no longer boastful.
No longer walking ahead.
Now… they were following.
Nyx moved at last.
Nothing changed in his expression.
No hesitation. No anger. No sense of victory.
He walked as if this path had been laid out for him from the very beginning.
The corridors they passed through weren't empty, yet they felt that way.
Students stopped talking the moment they saw them.
Others instinctively moved away from the walls.
Quick, stolen glances—then immediate withdrawal.
No one asked.
No one commented.
The silence alone was enough to make everyone understand that this was not something ordinary.
One of the second-year students clenched his fist tightly, then relaxed it.
Another swallowed hard more than once.
The third stared at the floor, as if trying to make himself smaller.
As for Nyx—he remained silent.
Not the silence of defiance.
Nor the silence of anger.
But the silence of someone who saw no reason to speak.
They arrived at a large, dark-colored door, completely unadorned.
Ilara stopped in front of it for a brief moment, then pushed it open.
The door opened without a sound.
The Student Council room was simpler than most would expect.
A long table in the center.
Several chairs.
A filing cabinet against the wall.
A single window letting in soft light.
No symbols.
No displays of power.
Yet the atmosphere was heavier than that of the previous hall.
Ilara entered first and walked straight to the table.
The three students stood before her, hesitant to sit.
Nyx stopped near the door.
No one asked him to step forward.
And he did not step back.
Ilara closed the door behind them.
The faint sound of it shutting was enough to make one of the three students shiver slightly.
She took another step forward, then sat down.
Opened a drawer, took out a file, and placed it in front of her.
She flipped a page.
She didn't speak.
Seconds passed.
Then more.
This wasn't the silence of waiting.
It was the silence of pressure.
The three students exchanged quick glances.
One opened his mouth, then closed it.
Another tried to adjust his stance—only to grow more tense.
Finally, Ilara raised her head.
She looked at them expressionlessly.
"Speak."
It was a single word.
And it was not a suggestion.
The first began to talk.
His voice was unsteady.
He tried to explain what had happened, but his words were cautious, incomplete—
as if they were being erased before they were fully spoken.
He said they were joking.
He said things got out of hand.
He said they never intended to escalate it.
Ilara did not interrupt him.
She turned another page in the file.
He stopped.
The second spoke next.
More defensive in tone.
He said respect was mandatory.
He said first-year students needed to know their place.
He said what they did was a "lesson."
Ilara showed no reaction.
But one of her fingers paused briefly on the page before continuing to turn it.
The third hesitated the most.
He spoke quickly, then slowed down.
Repeated himself.
Contradicted himself twice.
Every sentence only made things worse.
Throughout all of this, Nyx did not move.
He didn't lean against the wall.
Didn't show boredom.
Didn't show interest.
He simply stood there.
His presence in the room wasn't active—yet it carried a strange weight.
As if the room itself was aware that he was there, even though he did nothing.
They finished speaking.
A new silence settled in.
This time, it was heavier.
Ilara closed the file calmly.
Then raised her gaze.
She didn't look at them.
She looked at Nyx.
She waited.
She said nothing.
One second.
Two.
Three.
Nyx didn't move.
He didn't raise his head.
Didn't lower it.
Didn't show any intention of speaking.
His silence was clear—deliberate and complete.
It wasn't indifference.
It was refusal.
A refusal to enter their narrative.
A refusal to justify himself.
A refusal to give them any additional value.
Ilara showed no annoyance.
She turned her gaze back to the three students.
"This incident will be recorded."
She said it plainly.
Their faces stiffened.
"It will be considered an official warning."
She didn't raise her voice.
Didn't use a threatening tone.
But the words were unmistakable.
One of them opened his mouth, then closed it.
Another clenched his teeth.
The third lowered his head.
"You may leave."
They stood immediately.
No thanks.
No objections.
They left the room faster than they had entered it.
At the door, one of them hesitated for a moment, as if about to turn back.
But he stopped himself.
He didn't dare look at Nyx.
The door closed once more.
Only Ilara and Nyx remained.
A brief silence followed.
Then—
Ilara stood up.
There was no haste in her movements.
No tension.
She took a single step forward and stopped at a carefully measured distance.
She looked directly at Nyx.
"Tell me," she said calmly.
"Were you planning to kill those three idiots earlier?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Nyx finally lifted his gaze to meet hers.
Their eyes locked for a few seconds.
No challenge.
No retreat.
Then he spoke in an indifferent tone, as if answering a trivial question:
"No."
He paused briefly, then added:
"Maybe I would've broken a few of their bones."
"I'm not stupid enough to kill someone inside the academy."
Ilara's expression didn't change.
But her gaze grew slightly deeper.
"And if you weren't inside the academy?"
This time, Nyx didn't need to think.
He answered coldly, without the slightest trace of emotion:
"Then… there wouldn't be any problem killing them."
A heavy silence fell.
Ilara didn't speak right away.
She observed him.
Studied his eyes.
His posture.
His tone.
She searched for hesitation.
For exaggeration.
For an empty threat.
She found none.
What she saw wasn't anger—
but simply truth.
She took a slow breath.
"You may go," she said at last.
Then added in a formal tone:
"But remember."
"You are under observation now."
"So… don't cause trouble."
Nyx replied in the same indifferent tone:
"Of course."
He turned around.
Walked to the door.
Opened it and left.
Ilara remained alone in the room.
She stared at the closed door for a few seconds, then murmured softly, unheard by anyone:
"Nyx Firen… huh…"
She paused.
"…Interesting."
_______
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