She didn't answer. We both knew the truth.
This place had a long memory.
I'd thought I could slip through unnoticed. Keep my head down, do my work, get what I needed and get out.
Twilson had made sure that wasn't an option anymore.
Professor Tomlinson entered through the side door, and the room gradually settled. I tried to focus on his lecture—something about the function of trickster figures across cultures—but the words kept sliding off my brain.
My name. They were using my name like a story.
The orphan who knows people. The girl who got called out. The problem Twilson had to handle.
I wasn't Lumi anymore. I was a narrative that bore no resemblance to truth.
The lecture ended. Students gathered their things, conversations resuming at normal volume.
"—can't believe she just switched partners like that—"
"—Tomlinson's going to give her an A no matter what—"
"—Twilson should've expelled her honestly—"
I shoved my notebook into my bag, keeping my movements controlled. Ivy reached for my arm.
"Lumi, wait—"
The classroom door opened.
Headmaster Twilson stepped inside.
He wasn't looking at the students filing past him. His gaze swept the room until it found Tomlinson at the podium, gathering his lecture notes.
"Professor Tomlinson." Twilson's voice carried—pitched to reach every corner, every ear. "I wanted to check in. Do you have any assignments that need... additional review? I did offer to personally ensure fairness in grading, given the circumstances."
The room went silent.
Every student still present—maybe a dozen of us—froze in place. I could feel their attention shifting, calculating, filing this moment away for later analysis.
Tomlinson's expression didn't change. "I appreciate the offer, Headmaster. But I believe my grading has always been quite fair."
"Of course, of course." Twilson smiled, benevolent and sharp. "I simply want to ensure there's no appearance of impropriety. You understand."
"I understand perfectly."
Tomlinson's tone was polite. His eyes were not.
Twilson nodded, satisfied with whatever point he'd made, and turned to leave. His gaze swept over the remaining students—
And stopped on me.
Just for a moment. Just long enough to make sure I knew he'd seen me watching. That he wanted me to know this performance had been for my benefit.
Then he was gone.
The silence broke. Conversations resumed, louder now, feeding on fresh material.
"—did you see that—"
