Chapter 19 – Pure Malice

The instructor’s voice was a low, monotonous drone.

He lectured about the strategic deployment of cavalry during the Third Dragon War. Alfred tried to focus on the diagram of flanking maneuvers sketched on the massive chalkboard. It was hard to concentrate when he could feel dozens of eyes on him.

He risked a quick glance across the stone lecture hall. A student with mousy brown hair met his gaze for a split second before yelping and dropping her quill. Ink splattered across her parchment notes. Her friend immediately started whispering to her, casting terrified looks in his direction.

Alfred sank lower in his seat.

It had been like this all morning. Every time he shifted his weight or turned a page in his textbook, a fresh wave of whispers would ripple through the classroom. He was a rock tossed into a still pond, and the fear was the ever-widening circle of ripples. He didn’t understand it.

He sat at the back, a small island of solitude in a sea of nervous students. Luna, in her invisible form, was curled up on his textbook, fast asleep. Her tiny snores were barely audible. To his right, Elizabeth Voss sat ramrod straight, her back as rigid as a sword. Her quill flew across her own journal, but she wasn’t copying the instructor’s notes. Alfred could see she was sketching his profile again, adding what looked like ominous shadows around his eyes.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Maybe it was his hair. It never did what he wanted.

The sharp clang of the academy bell echoed through the hall, signaling the midday break. Students bolted from their seats as if released from a cage, the scraping of benches loud in the sudden silence.

Alfred packed his bag slowly, giving everyone else a head start.

The lunch hall was a minefield of social anxiety.

A vast, vaulted ceiling arched high above, with long wooden tables arranged in neat, intimidating rows. The air hummed with the chatter of hundreds of students and smelled of roasted meat and freshly baked bread. Laughter and conversation bounced off the stone walls, creating a symphony of belonging that Alfred felt completely detached from. He grabbed a tray and got in line.

The server, a large woman with flour on her apron, smiled warmly at the student in front of him. When it was Alfred’s turn, her smile vanished. Her hand trembled as she slopped a ladleful of brownish stew into his bowl.

He tried to give her a reassuring nod.

She flinched and quickly moved on to the next person, refusing to make eye contact.

Alfred took his tray and scanned the crowded hall. He spotted an open seat at the end of a long table. As he started walking toward it, the four students already sitting there froze. They exchanged panicked looks, grabbed their trays, and scurried away to find a different spot.

The entire section of the table was now empty. Waiting for him.

He felt a familiar pang of loneliness, a ghost from his old life on Earth. He walked the length of the table and sat down in the corner, the wood cold and unwelcoming. The noise of the hall seemed to dip for a moment as he settled in.

Luna popped into existence on the corner of his tray, her silver wings shimmering. She yawned, stretching her tiny arms over her head. A moment later, a second tray clattered onto the table opposite him. Elizabeth Voss stood there, her expression one of fierce, unwavering loyalty. She sat down with the stiff posture of a royal guard.

“My lord. I have secured a strategic position for our midday rations.”

Alfred blinked at her. Rations? It was just stew. His gaze drifted past her, across the hall. He saw a few other students looking their way, whispering behind their hands. One of them, a lanky boy with glasses, noticed Alfred looking back.

The boy’s eyes went wide. He dropped his spoon with a loud clatter, jumped to his feet, and almost tripped over his own robes in his haste to get away.

Alfred’s attempt at a friendly smile died on his lips. He looked from the fleeing student back to his two companions.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Luna pressed her lips together, but a snorting giggle escaped anyway. She quickly covered her mouth with both hands, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

“Pffft. Nothing at all.”

Elizabeth, however, looked almost proud. Her violet eyes shone with a strange, intense light.

“You have done nothing wrong, my king. Their mortal spirits are simply too weak to endure your presence. They cannot comprehend your aura.”

Aura? He looked down at his plain school uniform. It was the same one everyone else wore. He discreetly sniffed his sleeve. It smelled faintly of soap. No weird aura here. He picked up his own spoon and stirred the lumpy stew. Maybe this was all a huge misunderstanding.

“Maybe I should just go talk to them. You know, clear the air.”

Luna’s eyes lit up with pure mischief. She zipped into the air and did a little loop.

“Oh, please do. This should be spectacular.”

Ignoring her, Alfred pushed his chair back and stood up. He left his half-eaten lunch and walked toward a table near the center of the hall. A group of five students were huddled there, deep in a hushed conversation. As he approached, their talk faltered and died. They watched him come closer, their postures tense, their hands gripping their mugs and utensils like weapons.

He stopped a few feet from their table, trying his best to look non-threatening.

“Hey. I’m Alfred. Sorry to bother you, I just wanted to ask—”

He never got to finish.

One of the girls shrieked. All five of them scrambled backward at once, their chairs screeching against the stone floor. One boy tripped over a bench and went down in a heap. Another knocked over a heavy pitcher, sending a wave of ice water cascading across the floor. They didn’t even stop to help their fallen friend. They just fled, melting back into the crowd on the far side of the room.

Alfred stood there, utterly alone, in the middle of a rapidly spreading puddle.

The low hum of the lunch hall had vanished. It was now dead silent. Every single student was staring at him. He could feel their fear, a cold, heavy pressure in the air.

From across the room, Elizabeth’s voice cut through the silence, filled with reverence.

“A flawless demonstration of your power, my lord! They scatter before your overwhelming might!”

He just wanted to ask for directions to the library.

His shoulders slumped in defeat. He turned and walked back to his empty table, the feeling of a hundred pairs of eyes burning into his back. The silence held until he sat down, and only then did the nervous chatter resume, softer and more cautious than before.

He sat down, pushed his stew away, and rested his head in his hands.

The walk back to the dormitories after classes was a lonely parade.

The afternoon sun cast long, distorted shadows down the stone corridors. Whenever Alfred approached, students would press themselves flat against the walls to let him pass, their heads bowed. Some of them looked like they were trying to merge with the very stone of the castle.

He kept his gaze fixed on the floor, watching his own feet carry him forward. Luna flitted around his head, humming a cheerful, annoying tune. Elizabeth marched at his left side, her hand resting on the hilt of her wooden practice sword. She glared at every student they passed, her bucket helm from her “conquest” now strapped to her pack, clanking softly with each step she took.

Alfred replayed the scene from the lunch hall over and over in his mind. He couldn’t find the mistake. He had been polite. He had tried to be friendly. What was so different here? The outcome was exactly the same as it had been on Earth, only amplified by a thousand.

“Don’t look so down. You’re the most popular person in the whole academy.”

He shot Luna a tired, sidelong glance.

“This isn’t popularity. It’s… something else.”

Elizabeth nodded sagely, her expression grim and serious.

“It is fear, my lord. And respect. For the truly powerful, they are one and the same.”

He didn’t feel powerful. He didn’t feel respected. He just felt exhausted.

His dorm room was a sanctuary of silence.

The single room was simple and sparse, containing only a wooden bed, a small desk, and a tall, narrow window that overlooked the sprawling academy grounds. He tossed his bag onto the floor and collapsed onto the bed, the mattress sighing under his weight. He stared up at the plain, stone ceiling.

He reviewed the entire day. The whispers in the lecture hall. The trembling server. The mass exodus at lunch. The way students avoided his gaze in the corridors.

It didn’t make sense. He hadn’t done anything. He hadn’t cast any spells. He hadn’t picked any fights. He just… existed. And his existence seemed to be a problem for everyone.

It was just like before. His stern face. His quiet nature. People always got the wrong idea. But here, it was a hundred times worse. It wasn’t just nervous whispers or social avoidance. It was raw, primal fear. What was he supposed to do about it? How do you convince people you aren’t a monster when they run away before you can even say hello?

He rolled over, pulling the thick wool blanket over his head, and let the darkness take him.