Focus.He’s a professor. This is not the time for a mental thirst spiral.
“Class,” he says, looking around. His voice is steady, cool — the kind of voice that could cut through chaos without raising in volume. “I’m Professor Gabriel. This is History of Factions 101.”
He surveys the room, looking mildly bored.
“Most of you come from vastly different backgrounds. Each faction teaches history in a way that flatters its own mirror. In your previous education, you were all taught your version of the truth — edited, revised, glorified. In some cases, …possibly outright fiction.”
A few students shift uncomfortably. This is slightly approaching treasonous territory. We’re not supposed to doubt what the factions tell us. I barely move. Cleo is already scribbling away notes.
“In this classroom,” Professor Gabriel continues, “we don’t deal in bias. We deal in facts. If that makes you uncomfortable, I suggest you ask for a different class.”
He pauses, letting that settle like smoke in the air. His eyes gaze across the classroom. They don’t pause; they don’t even react when they get to me.
“My job is to give you the authentic story.”
He moves towards the board. “Whether you like what you hear or not is irrelevant. History doesn’t care about your feelings.”
There’s no grin. No reaction. Not even a slight micro expression to the bond that pulls tight in my chest. Just his voice — sharp and clean like frost on glass.
The class drags on, and Professor Gabriel doesn’t look at me once. Not once. Not even a flicker of recognition. It’s like I’m just another student to him. Another face in the sea of anonymous learners who shuffle through this damn academy.
And it’s infuriating.
Yeah, part of me is relieved. I’m not looking for him to act like we’re secretly tied together by an unspoken bond. I don’t want to risk getting kicked out or anything that might endanger my place here. But a little acknowledgment wouldn’t hurt. Wouldn’t kill him to give me a glance or — I don’t know — some sign that he knows I exist outside of this dumb class.
I even raise my hand at one point — to ask a simple question about faction strategies during the last Greed conflict — and he doesn’t even blink. He just answers my question quickly and moves on.
God, this is worse than ignoring me altogether.
It’s fine. Really. I should be grateful.
Except... it feels like he’s acting like nothing’s wrong. Like the bond doesn’t exist. So, what does that make me? Crazy? Am I actually losing my mind?
After the last bell rings and the last of the students shuffle out — Daphne shoulder checking me on the way, of course — I decide to wait. Just a few extra minutes, letting the rest of the noise fade. I watch as Professor Gabriel erases the board like he hasn’t even noticed that I’m still in the room.
Right. Just me and my internal crisis. Perfect.
I finally step up to the desk. For a second, I almost chicken out. It feels stupid, like I’m some freshman in need of validation from a man who couldn’t care less. But the weight of it — the bond, the unanswered questions, the quiet frustration — pushes me forward.
“Umm... Professor Gabriel?” My voice is steadier than I feel.
He turns around, clearly surprised to see me still standing here. Like he had no idea I was lingering. Like he was so absorbed in his own little world he hadn’t even noticed that I’m still in the room.
“Yes, Miss...?” His brow furrows, like he’s trying to place my name.
“Arwen Davies,” I respond almost too quickly.
Great.He doesn’t even remember my name.
“Ms. Davies,” he repeats, glancing over his glasses like he’s already done processing this conversation in his mind. “What can I do for you?” His tone isn’t harsh exactly — more like he’s just… distracted. Stressed.
There’s a long, awkward silence as I stand there, trying to figure out what to say. What should I say? I was just hoping for some kind of acknowledgment — something that says, yeah, I know about the bond and I’m not ignoring you on purpose. But he’s acting like hefeels nothing at all. He’s acting like we’re just two people in a room. Just like any other student-professor interaction.
Am I crazy?
My heart starts racing. I’m not sure I can stand another minute of this.
“Miss Davies,” he says, interrupting the awkward silence, voice a little sharper now.
