“Let me see if I understand,” the [Dean] says.

“I told you that some [Archmages] might be on your tracks—obviously, they are too scared to do anything more than look from afar. You create a diversion in your class, an effective one, albeit rough. Then, you come to confront me, the [Dean]. An Elf. After which, you mount a threat of potential terrorism that would make even a Vanedeni blush.”

The [Dean] pauses to open the second drawer from the top, taking out a bottle of greenish liquid.

“Is that poison?” I ask.

“I wish,” the man says while pouring himself a full glass and sipping it with a relieved face. “Let me continue now.”

The man takes another sip and stares straight at me.

“You said you have a huge talent. You admit to being not just coached by one of the most famous spellcasters of the last… five, six-hundred years? I don’t know the Vanedeni history that well. But you, you also say in front of me that if you fly off the handle, you will destroy an entire country?”

“What?”

“I’m extrapolating what you said. Feel free to correct me, though. Would you not destroy whatever was in front of you here in Lucerna if you lost it?”

“I don’t know? I don’t think so?”

“Good. Terrific magical talent and indecisive mortal threats, that’s a good pairing.”

“Listen, I don’t want to destroy this kingdom.”

“Oh, how very kind,” the [Dean] takes another sip, sighing.

“Then, after you postulate a possible civil war in my country on a whim, you tell me you are here just to study. To chill. Whatever refrigeration has to do with how you Humans speak.”

“Luciani,” the [Dean] says with a frown, “I have enough magic in here to restrain you. I’m positive I could have a good shot at killing you, right here, right now. I’m not sure I’d be quick enough to avoid your Vanedeni friends coming and killing me before I managed to, but I could try. Sure, I would die immediately. But I’m worried that you might be a threat too big to ignore. So, let’s continue this conversation and see where it goes. I’d like to understand your mind before doing anything drastic.”

I don’t really care about the threat. What worries me is that I don’t care about the threat. I care about not caring. Does that make sense? Why am I so calm? Why am I almost relieved? Am I happy that someone will basically crash-test my internal motives and off me if they find something wrong?

After a second, I notice the [Dean]’s gaze lost in the void, and I wave a hand in front of him. What’s up with this guy? I mean, I totally get the fact that I’m basically the Elven equivalent of the ISIS here, but why is this dude drinking and spacing out at such an important juncture?

“For the Tree of Life, has anyone told you that speaking with you can be very tiring?”

“My mother,” I nod.

“A wise woman,” Ariostus says. “But back to what we were saying.”

Well, that about answers it. I get that having this conversation in daylight is a bit too much. I’m a big fan of doing bad deeds at night. Much better on the symbolic side, you know? But it is also true that a villain dressed in all white might be as suggestive, if not more, than one dressed in all black.

“I’m sorry,” I realize I just lost the thread, “can you repeat what you just said?”

“I asked if you have anything to say about you going down the wrong road, as you put it.”

“Huh,” I look at Ariostus, noticing the wrinkles around his eyes. Once again, looking at mortal Elves is weird. “I haven’t gone down that road yet. Isn’t that enough? Can you kill a person just because they might become evil?”

“Are you? Are you evil?” the [Dean] frowns. “And why would you use the word evil? I don’t think the Humans who wanted to slaughter the Elves ever called themselves that.”

“Neither did the Elves who wanted to slaughter Humans,” I give him my signature wink.

“But I don’t know—why not? How do you call someone who can’t exactly do good?”

“Joey Luciani,” the [Dean] puts the glass of greenish liquid on the side, far from his hands. “As the man who runs this place, I’m in charge of the students. And I have to make sure they get the best education and that they can survive in the real world out there. I have skills that give me details on my students.”

“What? Am I so crazy that my skills are telling you that?”

The [Dean] hunches back on his chair, massaging a tense shoulder. He puts a finger to his head and speaks out a skill: “[Memory: Speech].”

“I considered going back to Amorium, trying to see who would follow me, who’s on my side, and putting people in front of a choice. I lifted more than half of the homeless population from abject poverty. Who do you think those people would believe, the idiots doing all the politics in this country or me?”

He recites the words I spoke a few minutes ago without fault.

“Luciani, you are afraid that those people wouldn’t follow you. You are asking me that question as much as you are asking yourself. Now, this is turning out to be quite different from the conversation I had imagined I’d have with you. And we still have to discuss the preposterous notion you advanced on Cantrips. But I can’t help but ask what—I don’t know how to put this.”

“Are you ok?” the man asks.

I look at him and take a deep breath.

“I don’t think so?” I try a smile, but not much comes out of it. “I really considered going back to Amorium and see if I still have friends there. But when I did, I mostly just destroyed the Watch building to send a message about the girl who had been my disciple before the duels here at the academy.”

“Son,” the [Dean] suddenly turns apologetic, “I am not the right person you should be telling these things to. On paper, I am on the other side after all.”

“You asked me to talk; I’m talking.”

“How old are you exactly?” the man asks.

“Twenty-three, give or take. Maybe twenty-four now. I haven’t really been counting, to be honest.”

“I know this is prying, but where are your people? How did you end up in Amorium? How did you end up here? Because, from what I’m seeing, the best solution for both of us would be if you went back to your family, Luciani.”

Many things can hurt a person. Blades. Radiation. Inhaling too many fries over the course of a lifetime. But loneliness is definitely one of the worst, one of the few things that most people would probably kill without a second thought. Only liars and pathological people say it’s nice to be alone or those who have not yet found the right people to be with.

“Can’t.”

“You can’t go back to your family? I mean, you have the Vanedenis at your side—wait. Are you indentured to servitude or something like that?”

“Nope. My parents are dead.”

Ariostus looks at me with a genuinely sad expression. I just shrug. There’s not much else I can do at this point. I came to another world, full of magic and adventures. I became strong. I became rich. I already excelled in so many things that they would make a normal person’s life more than worth living.

But I’m mostly alone.

“Were you raised by the Vanedenis, then? That would explain the unspeakable talent of yours.”

“Nope, chief,” I force a smile. “I’m just—tired. I came here by chance. I have nowhere, literally nowhere, to return. The people in this nation hate me. The bonds I have built back in Amorium are also gone after this manhunt. Funny, huh, man-hunt. Now it makes more sense. But anyway, that’s that. I’m here, alone. I don’t mind the Vanedenis, and I’ve thought about going on mad adventures. But right now? Right now, I need some stability in my life.”

“And you thought that hiding in plain sight, dealing with one of the most dangerous groups of the underworld, and creating a huge mess in class today would give you that? And you magically managed to affiliate yourself with some of the most unstable students you could possibly find. Robin gave me a copy of their files, just so you know. Joey Luciani…”

“What? What am I supposed to do? Who am I supposed to be?”

“Son, listen,” the [Dean] looks in my eyes, appearing much older now, belonging to a different generation—the generation of my parents. “I’ll tell you something because you are one of my students, ok? But I need you to listen. There are records of red classes, the cursed ones. And one of them is [Impostor]. You are, in my opinion, dangerously close to it. Or maybe even worse. No one really knows why cursed classes exist or how they work exactly. But it doesn’t surprise me that the Vanedenis didn’t consider that. They probably don’t have much experience with it, being the madmen they are.”

“What? [Impostor]?”

“[Impostor]. It’s one of the few known cursed classes. And you are heading right into it. You are not an [Infiltrator] or a [Spy], Joey Luciani, which is what I feared. I was afraid that this would come to blows. But instead, you are—lost? Yes. Let’s say lost and faking that things are ok. We need to take measures for that.”

“What kind of measures?”

“First, drop the whole act. You need to be Joey Luciani. Not Gioeius. I’m not an expert on cursed classes, but that’s the first step for sure.”

[Impostor]? Why would I get such a class? I can’t help but feel a certain mistrust toward this person, an [Elf]. Just another figure who wants to help until a Dragon threatens me, and I need to—come on, let’s not be children. If what he’s saying is true, then I’m in danger. But it could also be that he simply wants me away from this place.

“We can plead your case with a great council, supported by [Archmages], Joey. You could willingly trade some of your magical expertise to make up for the mess. The political weight of that would mean that no one inside the Nine Towers Academy would be able to touch you. And the [Archmages]’ names would protect you from the nobles.”

Is this person suggesting—

“I’m suggesting we unveil your presence to the world while inside the academy. We gather the [Archmages] and maybe use your Vanedeni connections as a guarantee. Who in their right state of mind will attack you? Why should they even think of such a resolution? It would mean countless deaths before they can stop Valarith. She wields magic of old, and she’s a genuine [Hero] if the records are to be trusted. No one messes with Vanedenis like her. And I’ll bet that the Ahalis are trembling on Kome right now, fearing that she will come to slay them all. I’m very curious about why she’s not there yet, but that’s for another time. If you agree, I’ll gift you a [Professor] class. You’ll plead for the support of [Archmages], and you can live in the academy with your own identity.”

I scratch my nose.

“What about my study group?”

“Would you rather keep lying to these people? Keep faking being their friend? Most of them are younger than you. And [Professors] here can still attend lessons. They would only benefit from being your friends.”

“Man,” I scratch my head with a relieved laugh. “Would you believe me if I told you that I was going to help them in disguise, then reveal myself in a crucial juncture, and see if they would follow me or not?”

I laugh again, but a soft tear rolls down from the corner of my eye.

I really need to get a fucking grip on reality.