The Cost of the Kael Name

Now, the entire classroom was focused on the teacher.

Every student listened intently.

Even Anastasia had leaned forward slightly in her seat.

The teacher's gaze swept across the room, taking in the anticipation written across dozens of young faces.

They were completely invested now.

They wanted to know what happened next.

Then…

The rune mounted above the classroom door flickered.

Its familiar blue glow vanished… A bright red light flashed across its surface.

For one heartbeat, no one reacted.

Then realization struck.

A collective groan erupted throughout the classroom.

“No way!”

“You can't stop there!”

“What happened to him?”

“Did he survive?”

“Did he win?”

Questions exploded from every direction.

Several students leaned forward in protest.

Others stared at the teacher as though he had personally betrayed them.

Anastasia's eyes widened.

Even she wanted to know what happened next.

The teacher simply chuckled.

“I can.”

The protests immediately grew louder.

“You can't!”

“That's not fair!”

“You told us the story!”

Completely unbothered by the outrage surrounding him, the teacher reached for the textbook resting on his desk.

Then he closed it.

THUD!

The sound echoed sharply through the classroom.

Silence followed.

The students stared at him.

The lesson was over.

“And that,” the teacher said, folding his arms, “is where your first Combat Theory class ends.”

Several students looked genuinely devastated.

One boy near the front dropped his head into his hands.

The teacher smiled.

“Good.”

That earned him several confused looks.

He pushed away from his desk.

“Because if you remember nothing else from today's lesson, you'll remember that story.”

No one argued… Because he was right.

Every single student in the classroom wanted to know what had happened to Caelan.

The red rune continued glowing above the door.

A signal every student recognized.

Class dismissed.

Almost immediately, chairs scraped against the floor.

Students began gathering their books and memory parchments, but conversations broke out before anyone had even reached the door.

“Do you think Caelan actually won?”

“What if he found another way to defeat him?”

“No,” another student argued. “Maybe he lost and became stronger afterwards.”

The discussion followed them across the classroom.

Anastasia remained seated for a moment longer, listening. But she found herself wondering the exact same thing.

She pictured the boy from the teacher's story standing before an opponent he couldn't defeat.

Her brows pulled together.

What happened after that?

What could have possibly happened that made generations of teachers continue telling his story?

Anastasia looked towards the board.

CAELAN.

The name remained written there.

And suddenly, she wanted to know more than she had before.

What happened to Caelan?

…

As the classroom gradually emptied, another scene quietly unfolded near the back.

A small group of students remained gathered beside several desks.

Their laughter wasn't loud.

It didn't need to be.

“Did you see his face?”

One of them snickered.

Another boy puffed out his cheeks and lowered his head, mockingly imitating someone.

The others laughed.

“He always looks like he's about to cry.”

“He'd probably rather stare at the floor than look anyone in the eye.”

Their target sat near the window.

The boy remained completely silent.

His shoulders drew inwards slightly. His gaze stayed fixed on the desk in front of him.

His fingers tightened around the strap of his bag.

The leather creaked faintly beneath his grip.

He heard every word… That much was obvious.

A faint flush crept across his face as the laughter continued around him, but he didn't look up.

His lips pressed together.

For a brief moment, it looked as though he might say something.

His fingers loosened slightly.

Then another laugh reached him.

Whatever courage had briefly surfaced disappeared.

His grip tightened around the strap again.

He lowered his head.

The movement was small… Almost instinctive. Like making himself smaller might somehow make him less noticeable.

He didn't look at them, didn't fight back.

He simply endured it.

And somehow...

That seemed to make them laugh even more.

Anastasia watched quietly from her seat.

The laughter continued.

A few more cruel remarks followed before the boys finally began making their way towards the door.

The boy by the window remained where he was… still and silent.

His head lowered slightly further, his shoulders drawing inwards. He was trying so hard to disappear.

Something twisted uncomfortably inside Anastasia's chest.

She had noticed everything throughout the lesson. And how no one had stopped them.

Her fingers slowly curled around the edge of her chair.

She didn't know the boy. She didn't know what had happened before today.

Maybe there was something she didn't understand or maybe there was a reason everyone else had chosen to look away.

She had only arrived at the academy that morning.

It wasn't really her business.

For a moment, Anastasia remained where she was.

Then she looked at him again.

He still hadn't moved.

His fingers remained wrapped tightly around the strap of his bag, while his gaze stayed fixed on the desk.

Nobody deserved to be treated like that.

Anastasia's fingers loosened from the edge of her chair.

Her decision was made.

She stood.

The chair slid softly across the floor.

The sound seemed far louder than it should have in the nearly empty classroom.

The boy by the window stiffened.

Anastasia noticed the reaction immediately.

His fingers tightened further around the strap of his bag.

But she didn't stop.

She took her first step towards him.

At once, his head lifted… Their eyes met.

For a brief moment, surprise flashed across his face… Then confusion.

Anastasia took another step.

She hadn't even said anything.

But suddenly…

The boy's expression changed.

The color seemed to drain from his face. Panic flashed across his eyes… Real panic.

The kind that came from someone who had already decided something terrible was about to happen.

Anastasia stopped.

Before she could understand what was wrong, he sprang to his feet so quickly that his books slipped from his hands.

One hit the desk.

Another nearly fell to the floor.

He grabbed them in a frantic rush.

"Wait…"

Anastasia barely managed to speak.

The boy flinched… Actually flinched.

Her eyes widened.

She hadn't even reached him, hadn't said anything threatening.

Yet he looked terrified of her.

He hurriedly gathered the rest of his belongings, clutching everything tightly against his chest as though he needed something between them.

Anastasia's frown deepened.

"What…?"

But before she could finish, he slung his bag over his shoulder.

Then he moved fast… Almost too fast.

He rushed towards the door, his footsteps quick and uneven against the classroom floor.

Anastasia stood frozen.

"Wait!"

This time, he didn't stop.

If anything, he moved faster.

Within seconds, he disappeared through the doorway without looking back.

His footsteps faded rapidly down the corridor.

Then…

Nothing!

The classroom fell silent.

Anastasia remained standing beside her chair, staring at the empty doorway.

She blinked.

Her brows slowly pulled together.

She had only wanted to talk to him.

Yet somehow...

The boy had looked far more afraid of her than he had of the students who had spent the entire lesson tormenting him.

The realization settled heavily inside her.

Slowly, her gaze lowered.

Was it because of who I am?

The question lingered in her mind.

Then another followed.

Because I am Anastasia Kael...

Her fingers tightened slightly at her sides.

Lucien Kael's daughter?