Arthur learned two things before he reached the dormitory.
First, passing an assessment did not mean passing it well.
Second, fifty-two percent apparently had consequences.
A clerk stopped him halfway across the courtyard.
“Arthur Vale?”
Arthur looked over.
The woman held a thin slate in one hand.
She had the exhausted expression of someone who had spent years dealing with troublesome students and had stopped expecting them to improve.
“That depends,” Arthur said.
“On?”
“Whether you are here to congratulate me.”
She stared at him.
“No.”
“Then yes.”
She sighed and handed him the slate.
“Your provisional privileges have been reduced.”
Arthur read the notice.
TRAINING CREDIT: SUSPENDED
EQUIPMENT ACCESS: RESTRICTED
MONTHLY RESOURCE ALLOCATION: REDUCED
He looked up.
“Because I scored fifty-two?”
“Because you scored fifty-two while being ranked three hundred and twelfth.”
“Ah.”
The clerk frowned.
“You don’t seem concerned.”
“I am.”
“You don’t look concerned.”
“I’ve found that looking concerned rarely improves a situation.”
She stared at him for another moment.
“Your room assignment is in the eastern dormitory.”
“Private room?”
“No.”
Arthur’s eyebrows rose.
“Shared?”
“With three other cadets.”
“Do they dislike me?”
The clerk looked at the slate.
Then at him.
“Apparently.”
“That narrows it down considerably.”
She handed him a key.
“Try not to start a fight.”
“I didn’t start the last one.”
“I wasn’t referring to the last one.”
Arthur accepted the key.
The clerk walked away.
He watched her disappear into the crowd.
Then he looked down at the notice again.
No training credit meant no access to advanced instructors.
Reduced resources meant less mana.
Less mana meant slower progression.
The academy had created a system that rewarded strength while simultaneously making weakness more expensive.
Efficient.
Cruel.
Arthur almost respected it.
Almost.
“Vale.”
Arthur turned.
Leon stood several steps behind him.
He still had the same broken nose.
“You’re going to the eastern dorm?”
“Yes.”
Leon grimaced.
“That’s bad.”
“I’m beginning to suspect the academy has very few good places.”
“Not like that.”
Leon lowered his voice.
“You’ve been assigned Room 417.”
Arthur waited.
Leon looked uncomfortable.
“You don’t know?”
“Should I?”
“Your old room.”
Arthur’s fingers tightened around the key.
“My old room?”
Leon nodded.
“You were moved out after what happened.”
“What happened?”
Leon glanced around.
“Not here.”
Arthur studied him.
“You seem unusually interested in keeping me alive.”
Leon gave him a tired look.
“I’m interested in keeping myself alive.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“No.”
Leon started walking.
“Come on.”
Arthur followed.
The eastern dormitory was older than the rest of the academy.
The stone walls were darker.
The windows were narrow.
Even the corridors felt colder.
Students became quieter as Arthur and Leon passed.
Arthur noticed something strange.
People weren’t staring at him the way they had earlier.
They were avoiding him.
That was different.
Fear had replaced ridicule.
Arthur didn’t know whether to consider that an improvement.
They stopped outside Room 417.
Leon didn’t open the door.
He simply looked at Arthur.
“If I were you, I’d ask for another room.”
“Why?”
Leon hesitated.
“You really don’t remember.”
“No.”
Leon rubbed the back of his neck.
“Three months ago, you locked yourself inside this room for two days.”
Arthur looked at the door.
“Why?”
“Nobody knows.”
“Someone must know.”
“People heard shouting.”
Arthur’s expression changed.
“From inside?”
Leon nodded.
“And then?”
“The door opened.”
“What happened?”
Leon looked directly at him.
“You came out covered in blood.”
Arthur glanced at his hands.
His stomach tightened.
“Whose blood?”
Leon didn’t answer immediately.
“That,” he finally said, “is why people don’t trust you.”
Arthur stared at the door.
A memory tried to surface.
Darkness.
A ringing sound.
Someone whispering his name.
Then nothing.
He reached for the handle.
Leon caught his wrist.
“Wait.”
Arthur looked down at his hand.
Leon released him.
“Sorry.”
“No problem.”
Leon lowered his voice.
“Whatever happened in there, don’t pretend it didn’t.”
Arthur looked at him.
“I’m not very good at pretending.”
Leon gave a humorless laugh.
“That wasn’t what I meant.”
Arthur opened the door.
The room was empty.
Four beds.
Four desks.
Three wardrobes.
One window.
Nothing unusual.
Arthur stepped inside.
Dust covered the floor.
The bed nearest the window had clearly been unused.
The other three were occupied.
One belonged to a broad-shouldered boy sleeping with his arms crossed over his chest.
Another was stacked with books.
The third contained a collection of small metal charms.
Leon pointed.
“Your roommates.”
Arthur looked at the sleeping boy.
“Friendly?”
“No.”
“The book collector?”
“Suspicious.”
“The charms?”
“Depends how much you enjoy explosions.”
Arthur nodded.
“Excellent.”
Leon looked at him.
“You’re taking this surprisingly well.”
“I’ve had a busy day.”
Before Leon could answer, the sleeping boy opened his eyes.
He sat up.
His gaze went immediately to Arthur.
Silence.
Then:
“You.”
Arthur looked behind himself.
Nobody stood there.
He looked back.
“Yes?”
The boy climbed from the bed.
He was taller than Arthur by several inches.
His expression contained no surprise.
Only hostility.
“You came back.”
“So I’ve been told.”
The boy stepped closer.
Leon moved aside.
“You don’t remember me?”
“No.”
The boy laughed once.
“You really don’t.”
Arthur studied his face.
Nothing.
No recognition.
But his body reacted again.
A dull ache appeared behind his eyes.
A flash.
A wooden table.
A fist.
Someone shouting:
“You don’t get to walk away.”
Arthur blinked.
The image vanished.
The boy noticed.
“You remembered something.”
“Not enough.”
The boy’s jaw tightened.
“You destroyed my brother’s future.”
Arthur went still.
“Your brother?”
“Darian.”
The name meant nothing.
Apparently, the original Arthur had left behind more damage than he had expected.
The boy pointed toward the door.
“Get out.”
Arthur looked around the room.
“My name is on the assignment.”
“I don’t care.”
“That seems inconvenient.”
The boy stepped closer.
“You think everything is a joke.”
“No.”
Arthur met his eyes.
“I think I don’t know what happened.”
“Liar.”
The accusation came quickly.
Arthur almost replied.
Then stopped.
There was no point.
The boy believed what he believed.
Arthur turned toward the empty bed.
“I’ll take this one.”
The boy stared at him.
“You’re not leaving?”
“No.”
“You’re not even going to defend yourself?”
“Against something I don’t remember?”
Arthur placed his bag on the bed.
“That seems inefficient.”
The boy looked genuinely confused.
Leon, meanwhile, was trying not to laugh.
The third roommate appeared from behind the books.
A girl with dark hair and round glasses.
She had apparently been listening the entire time.
She looked at Arthur.
Then at the other boy.
“Are you two finished?”
The boy frowned.
“Stay out of it, Mira.”
“I wasn’t involved.”
She adjusted her glasses.
“I was reading.”
Arthur glanced at the enormous stack of books.
“What?”
“Magical contracts.”
Arthur paused.
That caught his attention.
Mira noticed.
“You know about them?”
“Not really.”
“Interesting.”
She returned to her book.
The hostility in the room remained.
But nobody attacked him.
Arthur considered that a victory.
That night, Arthur couldn’t sleep.
He lay on the unfamiliar bed and stared at the ceiling.
Three roommates.
Three enemies—or potential enemies.
A ruined reputation.
Reduced resources.
A missing seventeen days.
And a room connected to something bloody enough that people still remembered it.
He turned onto his side.
The interface appeared.
He hadn’t summoned it.
That was unusual.
Only one line was visible.
[Memory interference detected.]
Arthur sat upright.
The words remained.
[External seal detected.]
His breathing slowed.
“External?”
No response.
He reached for the interface.
Nothing.
Then the words changed.
[Certain memories are inaccessible.]
Arthur stared.
“So I’m not simply forgetting.”
Silence.
He looked toward the other beds.
Everyone was asleep.
Arthur whispered:
“Someone sealed them.”
The interface disappeared.
A cold feeling settled in his stomach.
Someone had deliberately removed part of his memory.
Which meant the original Arthur’s disappearance hadn’t been accidental.
Arthur stood.
He crossed the room quietly.
The old desk near the window was covered in scratches.
He ran his fingers over the wood.
One scratch was deeper than the others.
A symbol had been carved into it.
A circle.
Three lines through the center.
Arthur stared.
The moment he touched it— pain exploded behind his eyes.
A memory surfaced.
This time it lasted longer.
The old Arthur was sitting at this desk.
His hands were trembling.
Someone stood behind him.
A voice whispered:
“Whatever happens, don’t let them know you remember.”
Arthur’s breath caught.
The memory continued.
The original Arthur turned.
His face was pale.
“Who are you?”
The figure didn’t answer.
Instead, they placed something on the desk.
A black envelope.
Then the memory shattered.
Arthur stumbled backward.
His shoulder hit the wall.
The room remained silent.
He looked at the desk.
Nothing was there.
But beneath the dust, he found a rectangular indentation.
Something had once been stored there.
An envelope.
Arthur touched the mark.
A tiny golden symbol appeared on the wood.
The same crown-like symbol he had seen earlier.
His eyes narrowed.
Then another sensation came.
Someone was watching him.
Not from the room.
Not from the corridor.
From somewhere much farther away.
Arthur slowly looked toward the window.
Beyond the glass, clouds moved beneath the floating fortress.
For one second, something enormous shifted inside them.
Then it disappeared.
Arthur didn’t move.
A thought came quietly.
The system isn’t the only thing watching me.
He closed the curtain.
Morning came too quickly.
A bell rang.
The entire dormitory woke.
Arthur dressed.
His coat was still torn.
He looked at himself in the mirror.
A stranger looked back.
Not entirely.
There was something in the eyes now.
A little less confusion.
A little more purpose.
He opened the door.
Mira was already outside.
She held three books against her chest.
“You’re going to the archives?”
Arthur asked.
She stopped.
“How did you know?”
“Those books.”
She looked down.
“Right.”
Arthur nodded toward them.
“I need information.”
“About?”
“Myself.”
Mira studied him.
Then she said:
“The archive doesn’t contain personal records without authorization.”
Arthur smiled faintly.
“That’s unfortunate.”
“You’re going anyway.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because yesterday I learned that everyone here knows something about me.”
He glanced back at Room 417.
“And I’m tired of being the least informed person in the room.”
Mira was quiet for a moment.
Then she held one of the books toward him.
Arthur looked at it.
“What is this?”
“Academy disciplinary records.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Why give me that?”
“Because if you’re investigating your own past, you should start with what everyone else remembers.”
Arthur accepted the book.
Mira adjusted her glasses.
“One warning.”
“Go ahead.”
“If you find something you don’t like…”
She looked directly at him.
“Don’t assume the person you were is the person you are.”
Arthur stared at her.
For some reason, those words stayed with him.
He looked down at the book.
Then toward the corridor.
“Thank you.”
Mira seemed surprised by the sincerity.
“So you can say it.”
“Apparently.”
He started walking.
Behind him, Mira smiled slightly.
Arthur didn’t see it.
But someone else did.
At the far end of the corridor, the boy whose brother’s future Arthur had supposedly destroyed watched him disappear.
His expression had changed.
He no longer looked angry.
He looked uncertain.
Because the Arthur Vale he remembered had never once said thank you.
And that was perhaps the most disturbing thing of all.