Chapter 191: Drawing and Food

Chapter 191: Chapter 191: Drawing and Food

Chapter 191: Drawing and Food

Owen Keats nodded after hearing Cyrus’s explanation.

"Then you should probably stop by the art club during lunch or after school."

Cyrus considered that for a moment.

"That makes sense."

He asked Owen where the art room was located, thanked him, then looked back down at the textbook on his desk.

For some reason, the subject of drawing stirred a few old memories.

There were not many left anymore, but among the scattered images Cyrus could still recall, several involved Isolde sitting quietly with a brush or pencil in hand.

She had always been good at it.

Judging by the standards Cyrus had learned since entering ordinary human society, most of Isolde’s work probably would have been considered genuinely impressive.

Back when he escaped, though, he had not understood the value of things like paintings.

He had also been in far too much of a hurry to think about bringing any with him.

Looking back, stealing one or two might have solved his current problem quite neatly.

Then again, it had been his first escape.

Lack of experience was understandable.

By the time the morning reached its final class, Cyrus had already moved on to other things.

During the break, he finished the last page of the comic in his hands and happily pulled out the next volume.

That was one of the best parts about reading a long completed series.

There were seventy-four volumes in total, and Cyrus had already made it through more than thirty.

He could barely imagine how much story remained.

Being able to draw was convenient.

Someone with enough skill could probably create whatever they wanted to see.

Cyrus still preferred reading what someone else had already made.

For that, he had Faye Larkin to thank.

Almost every comic he had read recently came from her collection at home.

The thought made Cyrus lift his eyes.

Faye sat directly in front of him as usual.

She was almost always like this at school.

Quiet.

Still.

Easy to overlook if someone was not paying attention.

Their conversations during school hours had become less frequent lately, but Cyrus understood why.

Faye had never liked drawing attention to herself.

There was no reason for him to force more interaction just because they had become friends.

When Cyrus visited her townhouse, things were different.

He got along well with Faye, Miles, and Lena there.

That was enough.

The warning bell rang.

Cyrus closed the comic and started putting it away.

Around the classroom, other students did the same. Conversations softened as everyone returned to their seats.

Then Faye shifted slightly.

She turned just enough to face Cyrus without making the movement obvious, raised one hand near her mouth, and whispered, "Do you want me to bring the next volume too?"

Cyrus answered just as quietly.

"Yes, thank you."

Faye held out her hand.

Cyrus found the volume he had just finished and placed it carefully in her palm.

She turned around again.

Her dark hair moved lightly with the motion.

A moment later, she looked exactly as she had before, as though the exchange had never happened.

Nobody nearby seemed to notice.

The English teacher entered soon afterward, drawing everyone’s attention toward the front.

Cyrus did not think much about the interaction.

By now, Faye seemed to know roughly how long it took him to finish one volume.

She usually brought the next one early so he would not get stuck at an important part of the story without anything to continue with.

It was thoughtful.

Then again, Faye had spent years helping take care of her younger siblings.

Paying attention to little details probably came naturally to her.

Cyrus found that side of her genuinely kind.

When lunch finally arrived, he pulled out his phone.

He opened his conversation with Audra Sloane and typed a short message.

I have something to take care of during lunch today, so I probably can’t make our study session.

After sending it, Cyrus looked across the classroom.

Audra seemed to sense her phone vibrate almost immediately.

She checked the message.

A few seconds later, her reply appeared.

That’s fine.

Audra turned slightly in her seat and gave Cyrus a small nod from across the room.

He returned the gesture.

They had been studying together every lunch for weeks.

If Cyrus had something else to do, telling her in advance was basic courtesy.

There was nothing complicated about it.

Once he finished the lunch Daphne had packed for him, Cyrus left senior advisory three and headed toward the art room.

Audra watched him go.

Her eyes remained on the doorway until he disappeared.

Then, for no obvious reason, she let out the faintest sigh.

Cyrus crossed a long section of hallway before finally finding the art club.

The entrance looked exactly like the sort of place an art club would use.

Painted signs, illustrated decorations, and several stylized portraits covered the area around the door.

Cyrus paused at one particularly detailed drawing.

The woman in it looked almost real.

Apparently the students here were genuinely good.

He knocked.

A voice from inside answered.

"Come in."

Cyrus opened the door.

Gemma Rhodes was sitting inside.

She looked up from what she was working on, and curiosity appeared openly in her face.

"Hi. What brings you here?"

Gemma recognized him immediately.

More importantly, she knew that Cyrus normally spent lunch with Audra.

So why was he here instead?

Cyrus also recognized Gemma vaguely.

He had seen her around Audra before.

"I wanted to ask if someone could help me draw a person."

Gemma straightened a little.

"Sure. Do you have a photo?"

"No."

Gemma paused.

"You want a portrait without a reference?"

"If I describe her, can you try?"

Gemma became more interested.

"I can try. The more detail you give me, the better."

Cyrus thought seriously.

Gemma, meanwhile, had trouble keeping her attention completely off his face.

Up close, Cyrus was even more striking than he looked from across a classroom.

His features were clean and sharp, his skin unusually pale, and even his neutral expression carried a natural pull that was difficult to ignore.

Maybe Audra’s interest was not especially mysterious after all.

Cyrus finally spoke.

"She’s very beautiful. Usually cold-looking. Her eyes feel strong."

Gemma waited.

Nothing else came.

Her expression flattened slightly.

"That’s it?"

Cyrus nodded.

"That’s all I can think of immediately."

Gemma looked at him.

"What shape is her face? What kind of eyes? Long hair or short hair? Tall or short? Those things all matter."

Cyrus seemed to realize she had a point.

"Her face is narrow. She has slightly upturned eyes, long hair, and the build doesn’t matter much. I only need something close enough to recognize."

"That’s more useful."

Gemma pulled over a clean sheet of paper.

Since Cyrus was close to Audra, she did not mind helping.

She picked up a pencil and started sketching.

For the next twenty minutes, lines gradually formed into the image of a beautiful woman.

Cyrus watched closely.

Something about the portrait looked familiar.

Too familiar.

He frowned.

This did not look much like Isolde.

It looked more like Audra.

Cyrus stared at the page.

Then something clicked.

"Do you know Audra well?"

Gemma looked up.

"You really are trying to draw her?"

Her eyes immediately brightened.

She had no idea what exactly was happening between those two, but anything that smelled even slightly like romance was suddenly much more interesting.

Cyrus ignored the tone.

He pointed toward part of the sketch.

"Use Audra as a reference for this area, but change it a little."

Gemma did not fully understand what he meant.

Still, she erased a few lines and redrew them according to his instructions.

Cyrus had once thought that Audra and Isolde shared a faint resemblance.

Not enough to confuse them.

Just enough that certain features could serve as a starting point.

A little more time passed.

The portrait became cleaner and more detailed.

Unfortunately, the more Gemma worked, the more the woman on the page seemed to resemble Audra.

Cyrus suspected Gemma was letting personal bias influence the drawing.

Still, she had never seen Isolde.

Getting even ten or twenty percent of the resemblance was probably the best he could expect.

He had to admit the drawing itself was excellent.

Far better than anything Cyrus could produce.

This would have to do.

He could add written descriptions in his diary later.

Cyrus stepped back.

"That should be enough. How much do I owe you?"

Gemma shook her head.

"You don’t owe me anything."

She carefully rolled the portrait and handed it to him.

"We’re both Audra’s friends. It’s a small favor."

Cyrus finally remembered exactly where he had seen Gemma before.

She was often beside Audra.

That made sense.

"Then thank you."

"You’re welcome."

Cyrus took the drawing and left.

He had also saved the money he had originally expected to spend.

Gemma watched him disappear through the doorway.

Then a thought surfaced.

She was absolutely telling Audra that Cyrus had come to the art room asking her to draw a beautiful woman who looked suspiciously like Audra.

If those two already liked each other and were only waiting because neither was certain, perhaps a little push would help.

Gemma smiled to herself.

Then her expression suddenly changed.

Her unfinished art project was still waiting.

She had completely forgotten about it.

Half an hour earlier, when lunch had only just begun, Daphne Whitlock had already taken a seat in the third-floor faculty dining area.

Her posture was perfectly straight.

Her expression was unreadable.

She ate slowly, almost mechanically, taking one bite after another while deliberately stretching the meal out.

Fifteen minutes passed.

Only about half of her food was gone when another familiar woman finally arrived.

Vera Sable sat across from her with the same easy smile she seemed to wear everywhere.

Two attractive women eating together drew little attention in the faculty area.

Other teachers passed without thinking much of it.

Daphne, however, watched Vera from the moment she sat down.

There was something heavy in that attention.

Vera either did not notice or chose to pretend she did not.

She began eating calmly.

Privately, she thought the meal would be far better if Cyrus were sitting beside her and she could have a little blood first.

Eventually, Daphne spoke.

"Cyrus told me you’ve done some research into memory loss."

Vera looked up.

"You could say that."

As Bloodborn, memory was one field where her bloodline had an unfair advantage.

Under the right conditions, very few people understood memory as directly as they did.

What interested Vera more was Daphne’s wording.

Cyrus.

Not Mr. Calder.

Not my student.

Cyrus.

If Vera knew nothing else, she might have wondered what kind of relationship produced that degree of familiarity.

She smiled faintly.

"So you know about his condition too?"

"I’m his teacher."

Daphne’s answer came smoothly.

"Taking care of a student is normal."

Vera paused with her fork halfway to her mouth.

"That’s true. Teachers should take care of their students."

The wording sounded harmless.

The look in Vera’s eyes did not.

Daphne’s fingers tightened slightly around her utensils.

She had no idea how much Vera knew.

More importantly, she did not know how much Cyrus had told her.

That uncertainty bothered her.

Adult Cyrus was far too difficult to read.

His younger self had been easier.

Vera’s expression suggested she knew something, and Daphne disliked being the only person at the table without that information.

She kept her face controlled.

"How is his memory now?"

Vera saw exactly what she wanted.

"Relatively stable."

A subtle change appeared in Daphne’s expression.

Vera noticed it immediately.

So Daphne really was waiting for Cyrus to lose more memory.

Interesting.

A trace of mischief entered Vera’s smile.

"His condition is unusual, though. I can’t rule out sudden changes."

Daphne lowered her eyes.

Her face hid whatever reaction followed.

Vera continued eating.

"Cyrus must be happy to have a teacher who worries about him this much."

"Maybe."

Daphne’s smile looked slightly forced.

She picked up the remainder of her lunch and stood.

"I should get going."

Vera lifted one hand in farewell.

"Of course."

She watched Daphne walk away.

Then she looked down at the food still on her own plate.

Wasting food was never a good habit.

Vera picked up another bite and examined it for a moment.

Hopefully, her favorite source of food would create a little more entertainment for her soon.

And eventually, perhaps that particularly delicious source would belong only to her.