Free Web NovelChapter 67: Chapter 67: Truth and Punishment, Part Two
Chapter 67: Truth and Punishment, Part Two
Cyrus left Daphne Whitlock’s office without lingering.
The door had barely closed behind him when he opened the kraft envelope and checked the amount again. A school-issued check rested inside with the award notice, and the number printed across it made his steps slow.
It was closer to twenty-five hundred dollars than two thousand.
Someone had added another five hundred dollars beyond what he expected.
Cyrus folded the notice back over the check and tucked the envelope beneath his blazer, pressing it close to his chest until he was certain it could not slip out. Nobody in the hallway paid him any attention, which was exactly how he preferred to carry a small fortune through school.
He had always respected education.
At least, he respected it now that education had started paying him.
The amount would not erase rent, groceries, or the next refill of Frostborn suppressants, but it gave each of those problems less room to breathe down his neck. His wallet had been surviving on determination and loose bills for long enough. This check might finally let it behave like a wallet instead of an empty leather threat.
Daphne also seemed much more pleasant now.
Cyrus knew perfectly well that money could distort a person’s judgment. That did not make the distortion less enjoyable.
She had approved the award, handed him the envelope, and previously given Cory a handheld game console that now sat safely in Cyrus’s apartment. The console had already filled several evenings with valuable research into how quickly a person could lose track of time while pressing buttons.
Without self-control, he might have spent the entire exam period buried in games.
Ms. Whitlock truly was a generous teacher.
Cyrus made a decision while walking back to class.
He would not use his child form to tease her again this month.
Their earlier exchange had involved gifts on both sides, but he had still misled her. Continuing to appear as Cory for his own amusement would be cruel, especially when Daphne had behaved more like a helpful teacher than anyone else lately.
The decision felt fair and responsible.
It also lasted only as long as he avoided thinking too carefully about the way she watched Cory.
When Cyrus returned to the classroom, Owen Keats noticed his mood before he reached his seat.
"You look happier than you did ten minutes ago," Owen said. "Did something good happen?"
"Something very good happened."
Cyrus placed his bag beside the desk with unusual care. The envelope stayed beneath his blazer, secured between his shirt and the inside pocket.
Owen leaned closer, lowering his voice as if Cyrus had returned with classified information.
"Since you’re in a good mood, do you want to come by soccer practice after school?"
Cyrus turned toward him. "Why are you asking me?"
"You picked up basketball pretty fast yesterday. Your dribbling was rough, but you were reading the court better than people who’ve played for years." Owen tapped his pen against the desk. "You might be good at soccer too."
"Maybe another day. I have a shift tonight."
Recognition crossed Owen’s face.
"Right, you work at the lounge."
Cyrus nodded and began taking out the materials for the next class.
The invitation stayed with him, though.
Yesterday’s basketball game had been unexpectedly enjoyable. He had liked the noise, the movement, and the simple agreement that everyone on the court wanted the same thing. Nobody had been trying to keep him, inspect him, feed him for a hidden reason, or decide where he should live. They had only wanted to score.
If Cyrus had been an ordinary human student, he probably would have accepted Owen’s invitation without much thought. He could have spent the afternoon running under the sun, sweating through his shirt, and complaining about sore legs afterward.
Humans were remarkably well equipped for summer.
They had refrigerators, air-conditioning, cold drinks, sunscreen, and enough medical advice to survive a hot afternoon as long as they remembered water. Some of them even stayed outside on purpose until their skin turned a healthy shade of brown.
Cyrus envied that freedom.
His own abilities were hardly impressive by human standards. He could cool a room, chill a bottle, and handle temperatures that made other people uncomfortable. Humans had machines for all of that. Nobody needed to expose a rare-blood for the sake of replacing an air conditioner.
Meanwhile, direct sunlight could turn an ordinary school activity into a calculation.
Even food required thought. An order of extra-hot fried chicken sounded excellent until he remembered the heat gathering inside his body afterward.
Cyrus rested his chin lightly against one hand.
An ice-cream cake would be safer.
He could stop somewhere after his shift and buy a small one. Something with vanilla frosting, cookie crumbs, and enough cream to make the evening feel worth surviving.
His attention moved across the classroom and settled on Audra Sloane.
Perhaps he should buy her a slice too.
Audra had spent a great deal of time tutoring him. The award had come from his own effort, but her help had pulled his weaker subjects into range much faster than he could have managed alone. Cyrus disliked owing people, especially when the debt could be settled with dessert instead of something more complicated.
He could pick up two slices before school tomorrow.
That seemed reasonable.
As soon as the thought settled, Audra turned in her seat.
Their attention met across the classroom.
Cyrus’s fingers paused against the edge of his notebook.
The expression on Audra’s face was controlled, but something beneath it felt wrong. The sensation was faint and familiar, the same warning that came when someone had watched him too long without approaching.
His body recognized it before his mind found a reason.
If Audra had turned around with white hair instead of dark, Cyrus would have left the classroom without collecting his bag.
That particular color belonged to memories he had no interest in revisiting.
Audra, however, had no reason to direct that kind of attention at him. She had tutored him, questioned him, and become suspicious of his amnesia story, but she had never looked ready to do anything reckless.
Could she be upset about the award?
Perhaps she thought he should share some of it because she had helped him study.
Cyrus considered the possibility seriously, then dismissed it. Audra had never asked for payment, and she had enough money that his award probably meant less to her than a cafeteria receipt.
Something remained off.
He decided to watch her before making conclusions.
The following classes passed differently for everyone.
Some students complained that the afternoon dragged. Others felt the last bell came too quickly. Cyrus only found time moving quickly when he slept through it. Whenever he paid attention, every explanation seemed to take longer than the knowledge deserved. ƒrēewebnovel.com
Another odd pattern appeared during class.
Teachers kept meeting his attention.
Each time Cyrus looked toward the front, he seemed to catch an encouraging nod or an approving expression. One instructor even paused beside his desk during independent work and told him to keep up the effort.
News of the award had probably traveled through the faculty faster than Cyrus expected.
The attention felt strange, but it was not unpleasant.
He could tolerate being noticed for academic improvement as long as nobody became interested in the reasons behind anything else.
When the dismissal bell finally rang, students poured into the hallway in noisy groups.
Cyrus remained at his desk.
Going home first would only force him to turn around and travel back toward The Full Moon Lounge later. Staying at school let him study, waste less transit time, and avoid using electricity in his apartment.
Living alone meant his schedule belonged to him.
That small fact never stopped feeling good.
The classroom emptied quickly. Owen left with students from the soccer team, and the last few conversations faded into the hallway. Cyrus had often been the final person to leave even before he began working at the lounge, so the silence felt familiar.
He opened his notebook and reviewed the lesson.
Outside the windows, the sun had dropped low enough to lose much of its bite. The remaining light spread across the desks in long amber strips, warming the room without reaching him directly.
Cyrus eventually stopped writing.
The sunset over Grayhaven was worth watching when it could not hurt him.
He leaned back in his chair and let his attention rest beyond the glass. Buildings cut dark shapes into the orange sky, and the distant clouds carried thin red edges. For once, nobody stood close enough to ask him anything.
A knock against the nearest desk pulled him back.
Audra stood in front of him.
The sunset behind her traced the edge of her uniform and caught in the dark fall of her hair. She had returned without her bag, which suggested she had never truly left the building.
Cyrus straightened.
"I thought everyone had gone home."
Audra did not answer that. "Did everything go smoothly with the award?"
"It went very smoothly."
His hand moved instinctively toward the inside of his blazer, checking that the envelope remained secure.
Then he added with genuine feeling, "Thank you for helping me, Audra. I would not have improved that quickly without the tutoring."
"You did the work yourself."
Her answer came evenly, but she turned toward the window before Cyrus could study her expression.
The side of her face caught the remaining light. Cyrus could not see what she was thinking, only the composed line of her posture and the fingers resting at her side.
He wondered whether he should buy the cake today instead of waiting until tomorrow.
A slice of ice-cream cake might improve whatever mood had followed her back into the classroom.
Audra spoke again before he decided.
"Is your injury from last time completely healed?"
"It healed without any problems."
The answer came easily.
Cyrus thought he heard her release a breath, though it did not sound like relief.
Audra turned back toward him. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com
Her hand rose.
A small ring rested on one finger, its pink stone held directly within his line of sight.
Cyrus had been watching her movements because of the unease from earlier, but he had no reason to defend himself against a piece of jewelry. His attention landed on the stone before suspicion could form.
The room blurred.
His thoughts, clear a breath earlier, tangled into thick confusion. He knew he had been sitting at his desk. He knew Audra was standing in front of him. Everything beyond those facts began sliding out of place.
A memory vanished before he could identify it.
Another image followed.
The sensation was not sleep and did not resemble his fever transformations. It felt like a hand reaching into the back of his mind and stirring until every path led toward the same voice.
Audra’s voice.
Cyrus sat motionless.
The Glamourkin Ring had worked on housekeepers without resistance. It had emptied Nora Ellison’s expression and drawn answers from her as easily as opening a drawer.
Cyrus did not react the same way.
His breathing remained steady. His head did not lower. The face beneath his bangs kept its usual calm, but the focus behind it had gone distant.
Audra’s pulse quickened.
She stepped closer.
"Was your injury really caused by a fall?"
The answer came without emotion.
"No, it wasn’t."
Satisfaction moved through Audra before she could stop it.
She had known the story felt wrong. Cyrus had recovered too neatly, avoided details too carefully, and carried himself with none of the irritation someone should have shown after a real accident.
He had lied.
Audra considered her next question.
"Is your amnesia real?"
Cyrus said nothing.
The silence stretched.
Audra’s confidence weakened by a fraction. Nora had answered immediately. The housekeepers had responded to every question without delay. Cyrus remained seated with his hands resting near the notebook, his expression unchanged.
Had the ring failed?
She raised her hand slightly, keeping the pink stone in front of him.
"Cyrus, is the amnesia you told us about real?"
His lips moved at last.
"Yes, it is."
Audra studied him.
The delay was odd, but the answer sounded direct. Perhaps the hesitation came from the damaged memory itself. The ring might have needed to push through confusion before reaching what he believed to be true.
The difference could not be connected to gender. That made no sense. A glamourkin artifact capable of controlling minds would hardly stop working properly because its target was male.
His amnesia must have complicated the command.
Audra accepted that explanation for the moment.
One question remained more important than the rest.
She had carried it since the bathroom.
"Have you ever laughed at me behind my back?"
Cyrus answered without hesitation.
"Yes, I have."
As if the admission required evidence, the corners of his mouth lifted into a small smile.
Audra went rigid.
Her fingers curled into a fist.
He had laughed at her.
She had tutored him, worried over him, questioned his injuries, and spent hours trying to understand why nothing about him fit together. All that time, Cyrus had apparently been hiding beneath his bangs and finding her amusing.
Audra’s composure strained hard enough to hurt.
Cyrus Calder clearly needed a punishment.
