Time passed without permission.
The wall clock now pointed exactly at 11 PM.
Outside, the atmosphere of Valtheris Academy began to quiet down. Tired students had returned to their respective dorms to rest their bodies. However, this academy never truly slept.
In the distance, magic lights could still be seen shining brightly from the library windows, signaling geniuses still struggling with stacks of thick books.
Faintly, the sound of metal clashing could be heard from the training arena—the sound of ambitious students willing to cut their sleep time to sharpen one or two extra moves.
Yes, in this prestigious academy, rest is a luxury. Everyone races to be the strongest.
Except for one person.
In one of the rooms of the Dormitory, Revan von Alstaire was doing his favorite activity: Merging with the mattress.
Exactly as the second hand touched the number 11, Revan let out a long sigh.
"It's time, huh?"
Just like that, his mask of laziness crumbled. His eyes, which were previously droopy, now opened wide, revealing a sharp, serious gaze.
Revan got up from his bed. He walked calmly toward the wall, where his weapon had been leaning, ignored all day.
A sword with a dull silver sheath. On its surface, an intricate and beautiful rose motif was carved.
Revan grabbed the hilt of the sword, then clipped it to his waist with a very natural movement.
One blink of an eye.
WUSH!
Wind blew hard inside the tightly closed room. Revan's figure vanished, leaving only the messy bedsheets as silent witnesses that its occupant was ever there.
***
Far from the comfort of the dorm mattress he had just left.
In a hidden corner of the academy's front yard—a blind spot never touched by the eyes of ordinary students...
Revan's figure appeared there.
His feet landed on the cold stone tiles with perfect control. No sound of impact, so light, seemingly like a feather falling from the sky.
Yet, just as the sole of his shoe touched the floor... a cold and elegant female voice immediately welcomed him from the darkness.
"You are two seconds late, Little Dog."
Revan froze for a moment. He recognized that voice.
Without needing to think, his survival instinct took over.
He immediately dropped his left knee to the floor, bowed his head deeply until his chin almost touched his chest, and placed his right hand on his left chest.
"Forgive the insolence of this lowly dog, My lady..."
Revan's voice sounded trembling, full of dramatized regret yet sounding very convincing.
"Letting a figure as magnificent as You wait in the middle of the cold night... is an unforgivable sin."
Revan kept staring at the stone tiles beneath him, acting as if he wasn't worthy to look at his master's face.
"Even if You took my life right now... or flayed me alive as punishment... it feels like that still wouldn't be enough to redeem the disappointment in Your heart."
But behind those poetic and boot-licking sentences, Revan's mind was screaming hysterically.
'You damn bastard... What do you mean two seconds late?!'
Veins on his forehead twitched in annoyance, though his outer face remained bowed in respect.
'Didn't the letter clearly say 11 PM?!'
Revan was sure his calculation wasn't off. He left right on time. His teleportation technique didn't even take one second.
'Wait... if she could count that I was 2 seconds late, that means... she was already waiting here earlier?!'
Revan's eyes narrowed suspiciously, staring at the tip of the shoes in front of him.
'Why did she bother coming early? Usually, this Big Miss deliberately comes 1 or 2 minutes late to maintain her 'Expensive Queen' image. Why has she suddenly become diligent today?!'
Ignoring Revan's excessive apology, Sylvia just snorted lazily.
"Enough. Stop spouting nonsense."
Hearing that indifferent tone, Revan slowly straightened his body slightly. He lifted his face, daring himself to view his master's figure as a whole.
"Thank you for forgiving your lowly dog, My lady," he said softly.
That was when Revan's eyes caught Sylvia's figure clearly.
Tonight, Sylvia von Vespera was not wearing the academy uniform. She was wearing her true form.
Under the dim moonlight, her skin looked pale as porcelain, yet cold as ice. Her short silver hair cut in a bob framed her tapered face perfectly, glistening softly, seemingly absorbing the moonlight.
A pair of Pale Violet eyes stared flatly ahead. Eyes that were cold, misty, and empty—like staring at a ghost in thick fog.
But the most striking thing was what she was wearing.
A complicated and elegant Gothic dress, woven from the darkness of the night itself.
The collar was high with a large black ribbon accent on the chest, covering her long neck but emphasizing her arrogant aristocratic aura. The sleeves were filled with black lace that fell gracefully, making every movement look dramatic.
From her ears hung long silver cross earrings that swung slowly, paired with ear cuffs shaped like Black Roses—a symbol of death and dangerous elegance.
Beautiful. Very beautiful, Revan admitted in his heart.
Yet, that beauty was the kind that could kill.
"No need to talk much more. We will leave immediately," Sylvia said flatly, breaking the silence.
"Yes, My La—"
Before Revan could finish his sentence, the cold voice cut him off again.
"But wait... do you intend to go with me using that hobo appearance of yours?"
Revan flinched slightly. The sudden verbal attack made him lose control of his composure a little.
'Dammit, I forgot about that!' he cursed inwardly.
But on his face, Revan forced a thin smile, still in a respectful bowing position.
"O—Of course not, My Lady," he answered, stuttering slightly out of shock.
In a split second...
WUSH.
A pitch-black shadow suddenly emerged from the floor, shot up, and wrapped around Revan's entire body like a cocoon of darkness.
In just one second, the shadow dispersed.
The messy figure of Revan was gone.
Now, his raven-black hair that was previously messy like a bird's nest was slicked back neatly to the right. The crumpled academy uniform had changed into a fitted black shirt and matching long trousers.
He looked like a young executive or a high-class hitman.
Well... almost perfect.
The only thing that didn't change and couldn't be hidden by the shadow was the permanent black eye bags on his face. A sign that the soul of overtime work was already ingrained in his flesh.
Without needing to speak again, almost like they shared a silent telepathy woven between master and servant...
They glanced at each other briefly, then nodded.
SWUSH!
The two figures—The Queen of Darkness and Her Guard Dog—vanished from the academy grounds, melting away with the night wind.