Chapter 115: The Worst Situations Start with a Drink

Morning sunlight crept into the room, illuminating dozens of crumpled balls of paper scattered across the floor.

Blair sat at the desk, letting out a frustrated groan as she pulled at her hair. She had stayed up the entire night trying to piece together the chemical equations, but none of it made sense. Without any proper context, the puzzle was just a jumbled mess of numbers and letters.

Just then, a soft knock sounded at the door.

"Blair, dear?" Clarice’s voice drifted through the door. "Are you awake?"

Blair’s eyes widened. She looked around the room, taking in the disaster of discarded notes and open textbooks.

"Just a second!" Blair called out, her voice cracking slightly. She scrambled out of the chair, frantically snatching up the crumpled papers and shoving them into the desk drawers.

Once the floor was relatively clear, she smoothed down her shirt and pulled the door open.

Clarice stood in the hallway, greeting her with a perfectly polite smile. Resting in her hands was a steaming ceramic teacup and saucer.

"Good morning," Clarice said cheerfully, holding the tea out.

Blair took the saucer carefully. "Thank you."

She stood there awkwardly in the doorway, blocking the entrance. "So, uhh..."

"May I come in?" Clarice cut her off smoothly.

Blair blinked, quickly stepping aside. "Of course."

Clarice glided into the room. She briefly looked around the small space, taking in the neatly stacked textbooks, before turning her silver eyes back to Blair. Her smile never wavered.

"It is rose leaf tea," Clarice explained, gesturing to the steaming cup in Blair’s hands. "It nourishes the brain. Consider it a peace offering. I know things have been quite tense between us after our little spat in the car."

Blair smiled and offered a polite nod. She really didn’t know what to say. The situation was incredibly awkward for her, especially knowing that Clarice intended on sabotaging her relationship with Daemus.

Clarice cleared her throat softly. "Are you not going to try the tea?"

"Oh," Blair hummed a quick yes. "Thank you again."

She slowly brought the rim of the cup toward her lips. Clarice watched her carefully, tracking her every movement, though that pleasant, motherly smile stayed firmly planted on her face.

Blair didn’t trust her. The intense, unblinking scrutiny set off loud alarm bells in her head. Right as the cup brushed her bottom lip, Blair pinched her fingers together.

With a sharp snap, the handle broke cleanly off.

The cup plummeted, crashing against the floor and splashing warm, pink tea all over it.

Blair jumped back quickly, a small, convincing squeal leaving her lips.

"Oh my gosh, I am so sorry!" Blair gasped, rushing right past the older beastwoman and heading for the door. "I’m going to find a mop and a broom!"

"Okay, dear," Clarice said, her tone perfectly sweet.

But the very second Blair disappeared down the hallway, the bright smile slid off Clarice’s face.

She stooped down, delicately plucking the broken ceramic handle from the sticky puddle on the floor. Clarice inspected the clean break. Blair had purposefully snapped the thick material right off with her bare fingers.

Clarice’s eyes narrowed. She had overheard a few conversations. She knew Blair looked like a beastwoman but was actually human. She saw it for herself now. She still didn’t understand how something like that was possible, but it seemed her son and Jack knew exactly what was going on.

Clarice dropped the broken handle with a quiet hmph.

"I guess she has the strength of a beastwoman too, to snap ceramic with only her fingers," Clarice muttered to herself.

Blair had broken the cup on purpose to avoid drinking it. The human simply didn’t trust her.

"She really is a clever girl," Clarice coldly noted.

Clarice left Blair’s room. She spotted Blair frantically opening cabinets in the kitchen, searching high and low for the cleaning supplies.

"There is a storage closet upstairs," Clarice called out helpfully. "The third door on the left."

Blair turned around, looking incredibly relieved. "Thank you!" she said, rushing past the kitchen island and hurrying up the staircase.

Clarice watched her go, a dark, victorious smirk spreading across her lips. "You’re very welcome, my dear."

Upstairs, Blair counted the doors as she hurried down the quiet corridor. One, two, three. She grabbed the handle of the third door on the left and pushed it open.

She stepped inside, fully expecting to see buckets and brooms.

Instead, the distinct smell of old paper and leather washed over her. Blair stopped in her tracks. Towering, immaculate bookshelves lined the walls. A mahogany desk sat in the center of the room, flanked by dark reading chairs. Everything was organized, not even a scrap of paper out of place.

It wasn’t a storage closet. It was Professor Feron’s private study.

Blair’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. Her heart immediately began to race a frantic rhythm against her ribs. He had specifically told them this room was off-limits.

Just as she was about to step backward into the hallway to leave, two hands slammed into her back.

Blair was pushed forcefully forward. She stumbled, crashing to the floor right inside the office.

Before she could even turn around, the door slammed shut behind her.

A loud clunk echoed through the wood, and the door shook a bit in its frame. Blair scrambled to her feet, her hands grabbing the doorknob. She twisted it, but the handle only spun loosely back and forth. It wasn’t catching on anything. The mechanism on the outside had been completely snapped off.

Blair’s panic peaked. She began beating her hands against the door.

"Clarice!" Blair pleaded loudly, her voice trembling. "Please let me out!"

She knew Clarice had done it. She had been set up.

Blair knocked again, begging for the door to open, but there was no response from the hallway. Just dead silence.

Her hands slowly fell to her sides in defeat. Taking a shaky breath, Blair turned around, looking out at the immaculate office.

She was trapped...in the professor’s office.