It used to be once or twice a week. But lately, Wor-en showed up almost every morning, strolling into the copper classroom like it was part of his daily routine. At first, it raised a few eyebrows—after all, he was supposed to be busy with his own responsibilities. But over time, it became normal. No one questioned it anymore. He’d sit there for an hour or two, quietly working through a stack of parchments while the students went about their usual chatter.

  Suri let out a long, quiet breath of relief. Wor-en caught it, smirking as he tilted his head, though he didn’t comment. Of course, he didn’t know how close she’d been to the edge.

  Last night, the thieves’ organization had finally made their move. They’d hired someone—an investigator skilled enough to possibly uncover their stolen vaults. Fortunately, they’d acted too late. For reasons she couldn’t fully explain, the mana traces she left behind had already faded.

  She’d prepared for this. She couldn’t erase her mana completely—no one could—but she’d laced her mana with complexity, layers upon layers of interference, tricks designed to delay even the most adept tracker. Whoever they hired would eventually find the thread.

  But by then, she’d be long gone.

  Yet one thing bothered her. The existence of skills. If the investigator possessed a skill designed to trace mana or whoever made the mess, all her careful work could unravel in an instant. What she did might be clever, even intricate, but against the right ability, it could all mean nothing.

  For now, things were quiet. Too quiet.

  The investigator hadn't made another move. Maybe he had given up. Or maybe he had found something and chose not to show it.

  That was what unsettled her.

  Just in case, she set more illusions into motion—laced into the surroundings like stray shadows. Not just to watch him, but to observe those close to him. Friends, allies, even his hired guards.

  If he made a move, she’d see it coming.

  Her thought was interrupted when one of her illusions notified her. It was another way to reduce the burden. She would create a command by manipulating the mana made their body, usually a simple command. For Asha and Opel, what she put was simple, when their names were mentioned, the illusion would let out a small mana from their body with the message coded to it and deliver it to her.

  Time to go outside. Again.

  …

  Kana stretched her arms and legs, warming up before the exercise set designed by Professor Dufer. She remembered clearly how things had been before—how her classmates in Dagger Mastery I used to look at her. The same way the rest of the academy did. Dismissive. Judging. All because of the copper band on her arm.

  But now, things had changed.

  She paused mid-stretch, glancing at a silver-class student approaching her.

  “Kana, do you think this is how the professor did it?”

  The boy, about her age, performed a quick slash, followed by a stab, then pivoted to his right and slashed horizontally as he ducked.

  Kana nodded, but then reached out and nudged his foot.

  “Your right foot—it’s angled wrong,” she said.

  “Thanks!” The boy grinned. His name… Kana still couldn’t remember all of them.

  They came to her now when Professor Dufer wasn’t around. Some even visited the copper classroom just to ask her about dagger movement. They probably thought she was a prodigy. If only they knew—most of it came down to her level advantaged.

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  As she resumed stretching, Kana’s thoughts drifted to the shadow man. She still remembered the way he moved—fluid, calculated, relentless. The precision of his strikes. The way he cornered her. She’d tried to replicate it more than once, but something always felt... off. Her mind knew exactly what to do. She could see the motions clearly. But her body refused to do it like some were stopping her from doing so.

  The murmur of students around her died down as Professor Dufer arrived at the training field. He began observing them without a word, watching as they performed the assigned exercises: foundational work—footwork, movement drills, and dagger patterns. No flair. No shortcuts. Just the basics.

  After an hour, Professor Dufer raised his hand, signaling the students to stop. The clatter of training blades and footsteps slowly quieted.

  He walked toward Kana.

  “Kana,” he said, his voice firm,“Come with me to the principal’s office.”

  Kana blinked. The principal’s office? This is not good.

  Her mind raced. What had they done recently? The past few days had been quiet—they hadn’t even broken curfew. But the weeks before… the heist… the underground district...

  Did they find out?

  She knew the academy enforced tight patrols at night. The barriers, the sentries, the occasional flying detection eye that scouted the rooftops. No student was supposed to be out past curfew.

  But Suri had prepared for that. Her illusion skills were top-tier. Kana had trusted that—trusted her.

  Still… if someone with powerful skills had seen through it...

  She followed Professor Fin in silence, a quiet knot forming in her stomach.

  …

  Duke Stark had been unusually busy these past few days. Something big had happened.

  More and more nobles—ones he recognized by name, some even by the illegal activities they were rumored to commit—had come forward, looking to place their prized properties up as collateral. Land, manors, family heirlooms, dungeon items. All for coin.

  On paper, they claimed financial strain. In whispers, there were murmurs of something missing—stash of coins probably one of their ways to avoid the tax. A few groups of Nobles were now suddenly desperate.

  Coincidence? Maybe. But Duke Stark had long ago stopped believing in those.

  He didn’t need the truth—not when the profits were this good. The less he knew, maybe the better.

  Earlier today, he had visited two estates. The talks took longer than expected—noble pride dragged out every negotiation, even when they were the ones asking for help. He had planned four visits. Only two had happened.

  The carriage came to a stop.

  Waiting outside the mansion gates was his son, Leo, casually waving. The boy had grown taller again.

  Duke Stark gave him a nod and made his way inside. No business here—not yet. Not until dinner.

  It was one of the House Stark’s unshakable traditions: at least one meal together each week. No matter how tired or angry or consumed with schemes—when that scheduled day came, you sat at the table and that day was today.

  They all took their seats at the long table. The servants, well-trained, moved in silence, setting the dishes one by one.

  Duke Stark grunted first, cutting a slice of roasted meat. “Spent the day talking with nobles. I prefer dealing with commoners. They don’t waste my time scheming and pretending to be polite.”

  Her wife patted his shoulder.

  Leo turned. “Nothing new in school. Classes, sparring, same as usual.”

  Duke Stark remembered something when he got a few meetings with nobles in his house. “Did I see Todd earlier this week? Thought I caught a glimpse of him outside a noble’s estate.”

  “Oh!” Leo said, reaching for a roll. “Kana is planning to buy land in the city. I asked Todd to help her..”

  His wife paused mid-sip, even her daughter paused, curious, “She can afford that?”

  “It surprised me too.” Leo chuckled. “It’s not just land. She’s planning to start an orphanage.”

  Duke Stark set down his fork.

  The table quieted.

  “Where did she get the coi—?”

  Duke Stark realized something as he stopped his question midway. Like their great-grandfather once said: There’s no such thing as coincidence. Only pieces of a puzzle waiting to be connected.

  He grinned, he was able to connect the puzzle.

  He didn’t voice his thoughts. Not yet. Not until the picture was clearer.

  Instead, he picked up his glass and drank deeply.

  And he watched his son across the table—smiling, unaware of the storm their little copper class girl was bringing into the world.