6. Initiation or Torture?

If Bastorin’s reputation is truly a living hell, then I need to be prepared for anything. Even when it comes to absurd orders from the most powerful man here. I couldn’t possibly fight back.

With trembling hands, I unbuttoned the front of my blouse. Suddenly, Alexei caught my hand.

“In the bathroom.” His gaze shifted to another door near the bookshelf. “There’s a robe and towel in there. Go on.”

I froze at his command, shame crashing over me. He released my hand, straightened, and motioned toward the bathroom.

His eyes stayed cold, his expression unreadable. “Or do you want to undress here? I don’t mind.”

I jumped up at once. “I—I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean… I mean…”

Damn it! I was stammering like an idiot in front of him. As if I were seducing the council president. Humiliating!

I rushed into the bathroom and locked the door. Bright lights flicked on, reflecting off the white-dominated interior. Clean, polished, pristine. A bathtub. Shelves stacked neatly with towels.

This was supposed to be an office, but the bathroom looked fit for living. Add a bed outside, and it was all set.

I stripped out of my soaked clothes, dried off with a towel, and wrapped it around myself. Then I slipped into the robe. Alexei must still be wet too—he had to be freezing.

When I stepped out, Alexei was sitting cross-legged in front of the fireplace. I didn’t dare approach. I stayed near the door.

“Sir, I’m finished. I’ll take my clothes and leave. Thank you for helping me earlier,” I said, fumbling for the right words, but that’s all that came out.

“Yes, go back to your room.”

“Thank you again.”

“Anastasia, next time... you need to fight to be the winner.”

He said it without even turning his head. I nodded, though he probably didn’t see. I exhaled and cleared my throat.

“Yes, sir,” I replied softly.

I left Alexei’s room, my wet clothes dripping down the corridor as I climbed the stairs to the third floor. A sliver of fear twisted in me. What if they cornered me again?

Almost on the third floor, everything above was eerily quiet. Reaching the top, the corridor stretched empty. As if no one lived here.

Where had they all gone? Just earlier, the hall had been swarming with people. Weird.

I didn’t waste the chance. I hurried to my room, even though every step hurt, heavy as if trapped in a dream where you try to run but can’t.

At my door, I slipped inside quickly and locked it. I didn’t want anyone breaking in again. Isolde was stretched out on her bed, nose buried in a book. She glanced up briefly, then went back to reading.

Did she realize I’d just been bullied? Her indifference made it seem like nothing had happened.

“Take a shower, huh? Nice robe,” she muttered sarcastically.

I didn’t answer. I went straight to my things, grabbed pajamas, and hesitated. Was it appropriate to wear pajamas when dinner was at seven?

“Wear the uniform,” Isolde said. “Evening prayer’s at six.”

It was nearly six. No wonder the hallways were empty. Everyone must’ve gone to the chapel—or something. I didn’t know the academy’s routines yet. My eyes flicked to Isolde. If it was prayer time, why was she still in bed?

“You’re not going?”

She lowered her book. “I’m not religious.”

“Oh. Okay.”

That’s when I noticed the trail of water my wet clothes had left from the door. I quickly grabbed some things from my suitcase to wipe them up with my foot, then dumped the damp clothes into the laundry basket.

I took the academy uniform from my bed, slipped into a corner to change, and put it on. The silence pressed down, uncomfortable, almost suffocating.

Exhaling slowly, I walked to Isolde’s bed.

“Are they all like that?” I asked carefully.

She didn’t look up. “Like what?”

“Bullying.”

“That was a new student initiation. Learn the difference.”

“You went through it too? This ‘initiation’?” I crossed my arms.

“Once.”

“God, what is happening in this academy.”

With a snap, Isolde shut her book. She rose and came to stand in front of me. Her stare was just like everyone else’s here—cold, heartless. Like they’d all been brainwashed.

“Call your parents. Tell them to pick you up. Complaining won’t save you here.” She folded her arms. “Bastorin isn’t for whiny kids.”

“I’m not whining. But if you were in my place, outnumbered, how would it feel?”

She scoffed. “I told you, I went through it too.”

“It’s bullying!”

“Then how do you stop it? Report it to the academy board? Blast it online?” She laughed bitterly. “Sure, you could do that in another academy. But not here, Anabelle.”

“It’s Anastasia.”

She shrugged. “Whatever.”

Anger burned in me, slow and sharp. Nathaniel and his friends had nearly drowned me. And the academy? Would they stay silent even if someone died? This really was hell.

“The only way through is to endure, or fight,” Isolde said.

“Fight? Won’t that just make me more of a target?”

“Well, better to fight to the death than be trampled forever.” A thin smirk curled on her lips. “Until the next victim arrives, and they leave you alone.”

She walked out without another word.

I collapsed onto my bed, weak. Until the next victim arrives?

But no. I knew when the next new student came, it wouldn’t be the same. Because I knew—until the day I graduated Bastorin, if I survived it—Nathaniel and Gabriel would never stop hunting me.

How was I supposed to face them? I couldn’t run forever.

Who could I use as my shield? Someone who could make Gabriel and Nathaniel think twice before touching me again.

Alexei’s face flashed across my mind.

How could I get Alexei to protect me?