Chapter 205
'No. Not her. Aldraya could not have done this.
That voice was only a cry for help echoing inside my own head.'
Fhhhh!
'I heard it over and over because I wanted to help her, not because she was the perpetrator.
I know that. I am certain.'
Tssfff!
'Making her a suspect just because of coincidence is too cruel—too wrong.'
"Attention all units.
The confirmed target is moving rapidly toward the male dormitory.
Repeat, the bombing suspect is heading toward the male dormitory at high speed."
The denial thundered through his mind like a mantra of refusal.
"Not Aldraya.
Impossible for it to be Aldraya."
Ilux slammed shut the doors of his mind that tried to link that name with images of destruction.
He clung to a single memory.
The fragmented, distant voice—the scream for help he had heard amid the roar of the explosion.
It was Aldraya's voice, a voice calling out to be saved.
Not a voice plotting destruction.
He forced that belief upon himself, sealing every crack of doubt with rushed logic.
There had to be a mistake.
There had to be someone else.
But the silence of the control room was suddenly split by the hoarse sound of a communication radio on the main desk.
A brief hiss of static, then a flat yet urgent report burst into the air, cutting through all of Ilux's denial and reverie.
Every word of that transmission fell like drops of cold water down Ilux's neck.
"Related party."
"Bombing."
"Male dormitory."
Those phrases merged, forming a narrative that pointed toward a single, horrifying conclusion.
The male dormitory.
Where he lived.
Where he should have been safe.
Where his personal belongings and small remaining memories might still be.
And now, the figure suspected of destroying the library was racing there.
His hardened conviction cracked.
The wall of denial he had built with such effort began to shake violently.
The image of Aldraya's cry for help collided with cold logic.
How could a trapped victim project a voice that clearly without any device?
How could a perpetrator, after detonating an explosion, remain nearby unless they had a specific reason?
And the strongest reason now emerging was to finish the job.
To find someone.
In other words—to find him.
'It is impossible for Aldraya to cause chaos.
As far as I know, Aldraya has always been calm.
Her speech is measured, her thoughts straight, never wasting time on trivial things.'
Shoooosh!
'She is a teacher who despises disorder, who values logic above emotion.
So how could the same hands choose an explosion—choose to destroy a library?'
"All unauthorized personnel, follow me immediately.
No exceptions.
This room must be cleared."
The truth now stood naked, harsh, and undeniable before Ilux.
Aldraya Kansh Que.
Once again, the name echoed in his mind.
No longer as the image of a cold, rational young teacher, but as the mastermind behind the destruction whose aftershocks still resonated in every joint of his body.
Each character of that name felt like an engraving on a gravestone, burying the image he had known until now.
His attempts to rationalize, to label her as a "victim," collapsed like a sandcastle struck by an unstoppable wave of facts.
Amid that chaotic reflection, his mind tried to reconcile two opposing figures.
Aldraya the strict overseer, every step calculated and every decision free of useless emotion.
And Aldraya the destroyer, who deliberately reduced a place of knowledge and calm to ruins.
How could cold logic transform into such a heated and brutal scheme of destruction?
What turned discipline into cruelty, and a rejection of the trivial into the most destructive and meaningless act of all?
That contradiction hurt more than the explosion itself.
It tore Ilux's reality apart from within.
Suddenly, movement around him pulled at his fractured attention.
The elderly man—who moments earlier had been the source of all bad news—turned back, his face once again hardened into a mask of command.
All personal weakness and anger vanished, replaced by an authority that radiated coldly.
Without even glancing at Ilux, he issued a short, sharp order.
His voice, no longer trembling, sliced through the air like a scalpel, directed at every officer in the room.
Fhhhhh!
Then Ilux's voice broke through the settling silence, cutting across the rhythm of orderly footsteps moving away.
His question was not a shout, but a restrained challenge, filled with anxiety and a misplaced sliver of hope.
"What will happen if you truly succeed in subduing her?" he asked, his voice hoarse with dust and emotional exhaustion.
"If Aldraya—my teacher—falls into the hands of the Academy Security Center?"
The elderly man's steps halted.
He did not turn around immediately.
His slightly hunched back faced Ilux, like a wall separating two worlds.
The world of decisive action before him, and the world of confusion and questions he left behind.
Seconds passed in tense silence, filled only by the hum of electronic equipment and Ilux's breathing growing heavy once more.
The other personnel also stopped, waiting, forming a silent formation behind their leader like statues ready to move at any moment.
Finally, the elderly man spoke.
His voice came out slowly and flat, each word burdened by a heavy admission.
"To be honest, we have never held an advantage over her, boy."
The admission did not come from humility, but from bitter, cold analysis.
"Neither in the past, nor now, nor after she returned to the academy—her power has always exceeded ours."
There was a pause, as if he were swallowing memories or horrific reports of Aldraya's capabilities.
He acknowledged the imbalance plainly, an honesty more terrifying than arrogance.
Then his tone changed.
The analytical coldness melted, replaced by something darker, more personal, and steeped in carefully contained resentment.
He turned slightly, just enough for Ilux to see his hardened profile lit from the side by monitor light.
The brief glimpse of his eyes revealed a flare of burning hatred and chilling satisfaction.
"I will make sure she tastes the misery of prison before she is finally cast aside."
The sentence hung in the air, poisonous.
Then he refined the threat—not with explosive rage, but with cruel calculation that made the blood turn cold.
"Reduced to a vagrant.
Living without shelter, without purpose, without a single place to call home."
The final words were spoken with a sadistic irony, as if this were a form of "poetic justice."
Returning the destroyer to the lowest, most wretched state imaginable.
It was clear that this was not merely a plan.
It was a detailed vision of revenge, filled with hatred.
It revealed that, to this elderly man, Aldraya was not simply an operational target.
She was the object of something deeply personal.
And for Ilux—who still carried the image of Aldraya as a cold yet rational teacher—that vision of torment and abandonment felt like a double betrayal.
A betrayal of Aldraya.
And a betrayal of the principles he believed the academy's authority stood for.
'They speak of her like a broken object.
As if her kindness, her discipline, all those long nights teaching patiently could be erased just like that.'
Hhhh!
'Aldraya is not disposable.
Whatever happened, whatever the reason, she does not deserve to be treated like trash thrown to the roadside.'
Ssssshhh!
"I don't care what your reasons are, and I may not yet fully understand why she did all of this.
But one thing is clear—I will never accept anything you have planned for her.
Not now.
Not ever.
Even if you truly succeed in bringing her down!"
To be continued…