Novel Full Chapter 622: Director
Chapter 622: Director
As Michael started to fit into the academy, he also wasn’t idle in the Land of Origin.
After catching the spies around his territory, he had Rohan begin a round of interrogation on them.
Though he and Lira already had a prime suspect in mind, having that suspicion confirmed was naturally better.
However, even after six days of interrogation, none of the spies revealed a thing.
[A/N: It’s six days and not three days. Today’s the seventh day making it 2 weeks since the last round of the college exams.]
If before they were suspected and were actually innocent, this sort of resolve could not belong to ordinary people.
At this moment, Rohan was in front of Michael in his study with a troubled expression on his face.
Rohan, aside from being a bit unsatisfied with his new Lord, was even more dissatisfied with himself. The feeling gnawed at him quietly from a bruised sense of pride. Though this young Lord had the habit of vanishing at the most suspicious moments—always right before or after strange occurrences—he had, surprisingly, never once failed in his official duties. For someone who seemed new to ruling, that was baffling.
In fact, it was almost irritating how smoothly he handled everything. He didn’t command with arrogance, nor did he rely heavily on subordinates. If anything, Michael seemed to prefer doing things on his own. If menial tasks didn’t exist, Rohan was certain the young Lord would never have use for them at all.
The guards’ protection of him, in truth, was almost redundant. Michael didn’t need them.
It had taken Rohan only a few days to accept that reality. Instead of dwelling on the uselessness of their “protection,” he turned his focus to other matters—places where his Lord’s reach did not extend, or perhaps, where he simply chose not to bother. Administration, order, training, discipline.
For a while, he believed he was doing well.
Things were moving in a good direction—or so he thought. Then came the issue with the spies.
Rohan still felt the sting of that revelation. Spies. Hidden among them for who knows how long, moving freely under their very noses. And who had discovered them? Not the guards. No—it was the Lord himself.
Michael had gone out alone and dragged those traitors out, while the ones who should have been responsible for that task hadn’t even noticed there was a problem. It was humiliating.
A Lord who didn’t need protecting. A noble who didn’t delegate power to maintain authority. A man who worked like he’d spent a lifetime in command yet wore no sign of privilege.
Rohan couldn’t decide whether to respect him or to feel useless. In the end, he chose both.
“That matter,” Michael spoke again, “leave it be.”
Rohan looked up, startled. “My Lord?”
“The spies,” Michael clarified. “You’ve done enough. If they won’t speak, forcing them further won’t change that. There are other ways to make them useful. For now, let them rest. You should focus on the current issue instead.”
Rohan straightened instinctively, masking his frustration. “The current issue?”
“Transportation,” Michael said. “Is it ready?”
Rohan nodded quickly. “Yes, my Lord.”
“Good,” Michael said quietly. “We’ll depart by noon.”
Rohan hesitated, his brows furrowing. “You’re still intent on visiting them yourself?”
Michael gave him a faint, humorless smile. “Ruling for nearly a month and not one of the Lords below me has come to pay their respects. If they won’t come to me then I’ll go to them.”
The words hung in the air. Rohan bowed his head, the answer leaving no room for debate. “Understood, my Lord. I’ll prepare the escort.”
*
Michael and Lira slipped into the stream of robed figures heading toward the Grand Hall.
“I’m confused about something,” Michael said, watching a pair of third-years usher a nervous group of first-years along. “I can understand why the new students are being called. Why the old ones?”
“It doubles as a greeting for everyone and a formal introduction of notable first-years,” Lira answered and added, “When the academy takes no new students, the whole event changes into a welcome for returning years and a reminder of goals.”
“However, thanks to a certain someone, the people entering the academy this year are a lot.”
Michael glanced at her and said nothing.
It wasn’t his fault the exam ended up the way it did.
Things just happened and he just happened to have been mixed into the mess.
Soon, Michael and Lira reached the grand hall and separated.
Michael moved right.
The new-student section roiled with nervous energy and curiosity. The seniors on the other hand, though composed, were little in number.
Lira had mentioned not all could attend; seeing it made the statement real.
A breath of hush followed Michael.
One was because his presence drew the eye.
Another came from recognition. Michael Norman.
“That’s him.”
“The third round.”
“The reason it’s two hundred.”
Gratitude did not ride those words. If anything, the opposite.
Michael had tried to quietly hide himself in the crowd but he found himself quickly isolated as none of the new students wanted to be close to him.
They avoided him like a plague.
Michael let it be.
Just as Michael found a quiet spot to wait, a subtle disturbance rippled through the hall.
Two new figures walked through the wide doors at the back.
To Michael, one was immediately familiar.
Ryn.
The other figure beside him, however, wasn’t someone Michael had ever seen before.
She was tall—easily taller than most of the males around her—and carried herself with a cold poise. Her hair, pure white, shimmered faintly like polished frost beneath the ambient light, and her pale eyes scanned the hall with calm indifference. There was a faint pressure to her presence.
Michael’s eyes narrowed slightly. His sister?
That was his first thought, and though they looked nothing alike, the assumption made sense.
Though Lira knew nothing concrete about Ryn’s sister, rumors about her had already spread like wildfire throughout the academy. Supposedly, if Michael hadn’t existed, she would have been recognized as the strongest newcomer of their year—perhaps even one of the most talented students in the academy’s entire history according to some instructors.
She was also an in-name disciple of the vice principal.
Seeing her in person told Michael that the rumors hadn’t exaggerated.
When he quietly activated Eye of Truth, his expression shifted ever so slightly.
A faint gleam passed through his pupils as his gaze fell on her, and for the first time since his evolution, he found someone whose life energy burned brighter than his own. Well, before pre-evolution that is.
It also wasn’t the same as overwhelming amount—it was the density and purity of it. Her entire existence shimmered with vitality so intense that, had he still been an high human instead of a True Human, he might have felt suffocated just standing in the same room if she released it all.
Michael’s brows drew together. What in the world is she?
Michael tagged her a “mini life bomb.”
Unfortunately, despite possessing the Eye of Truth, his understanding of it was still shallow.
The vision before him shimmered with information he couldn’t yet interpret.
After a few moments, the strain on his mind built to a dull ache behind his eyes. He exhaled quietly and released the skill, letting the subtle glow fade from his pupils.
I’ll need more practice before I can see through someone like her, he thought, setting the matter aside.
Across the hall, Ryn’s sister drew as much attention as he did—but in a completely different way. Unlike Michael, who was isolated by tension and quiet resentment, she was isolated by aura. Her presence was heavy. Those near her instinctively gave her space, but several still gathered close, trying to start conversations.
Time passed.
A presence suddenly appeared in the midst of the hall.
Michael felt it before he saw it.
At once, the old students rose from their seats and bowed slightly, their voices blending together.
“Director Arven.”
The title snapped Michael’s attention. His eyes narrowed, memory immediately flicking back to what Lira had told him about the academy’s structure.
A Director.
That rank wasn’t thrown around lightly. At Veraunt’s Edge Academy, to hold the title of Director meant that one was a Rank 4 Awakener or higher.
Michael straightened unconsciously.
The Director’s gaze swept the gathered students once, and when his eyes briefly passed over Michael, the corner of his mouth curved into a smirk.
Michael’s eyebrow twitched a little.
Though the director looked imposing at first glance, thanks to the subtle aura radiating off him, his demeanor was… a bit odd.
To sugarcoat it, one might say the director had a sense of fashion.
To put it plainly, considering the long eyelashes, the faint shimmer of lip gloss, and the tight clothes only half-hidden beneath a formal coat—plus the dyed blue hair which Michael wanted to believe wasn’t dyed—it was hard not to stare.
The man (or so Michael assumed) stepped toward with a confident grace.