The fire had burned low.
Evelyn sat in the velvet chair near the window, legs curled beneath her, a book open in her lap—but unread.
The faculty wing was quieter than any place she'd ever lived. No steps down the hall. No whispering behind doors. Just the occasional echo of a bell or a breeze against the pane. Too quiet for someone used to shadows in her home, and venom behind painted smiles.
Here, silence had a weight to it. A waiting.
She glanced at the door.
Alexander hadn't returned yet.
The note on the mantle still sat beneath the bloodied ribbon. A reminder that whoever was watching her… was still waiting too.
She reached for the book again—then paused as the door creaked open.
He entered soundlessly, removing his coat with that same practiced motion, his sleeves still rolled to his forearms. There was no cloak of command tonight. No icy authority. Just tired edges and unreadable eyes.
"You're late," she said softly.
"The Headmaster wanted answers," he replied, his voice low. "I gave him what I could without drawing attention to you."
"And did he believe you?"
"I doubt it. But I've never cared much for belief."
He poured himself a glass of something dark and quieted by the fire.
Evelyn watched him from across the room, then asked, "You were different earlier. At the fireplace. What changed?"
Alexander didn't answer at first. Instead, he stared into the flames like they might unlock something he'd sealed away.
Then, quietly, "You reminded me."
"Of what?"
A pause.
"Of something I gave up years ago."
She waited.
He didn't elaborate. Just sipped his drink and turned away.
Evelyn rose and walked toward him, her steps unhurried. "Is that why you really came to the Academy? Not just to find someone. But to forget someone else?"
His jaw tensed, but still, he didn't speak.
"Or to forget… how it felt to care?"
His hand tightened around the glass.
"I don't get close," he said finally. "Not because I'm afraid of pain. But because I know what happens when you start wanting something you were never meant to have."
Their eyes met.
And for a moment, Evelyn didn't see the professor. Or the man behind power.
She saw someone who'd built walls not to keep others out—but to hold something dangerous in.
"I'm not asking you to want me," she said quietly. "But don't pretend you don't feel something."
He didn't answer.
But he didn't look away, either.
The silence between them crackled louder than fire.
And neither of them moved.