At one point, I wanted to yell, “Stop healing me and just knock me out already,” but I managed to hold it in. What a nightmare…

They carried me carefully up a creaking staircase to a room on the second floor and laid me on a bed. The room was small and simple, with soft white walls that reflected the glow of the single oil lamp on a wooden nightstand. Above the bed, a small square window overlooked the cobbled street below, its frame encased in ivy that climbed from a potted plant nearby. Several other plants dotted the room: one with broad, green leaves and another with delicate purple blooms that seemed to shimmer faintly, infused with a touch of---magic, maybe?

“You’ll be okay,” a woman murmured as she leaned close. Her voice was steady, reassuring. “You’re in good hands. Now, I want you to close your eyes.”

“Alright,” I whispered, surrendering to the fatigue.

Then, there was only darkness. Whether I’d fallen asleep or just passed out from the pain, I didn’t know. At least I wouldn’t have to experience any more stitching while I was conscious—a rare thing to be grateful for.

══════✦══════

When I opened my eyes again, the room was bathed in pale moonlight filtering through the small window. A man sat nearby, perched on a low couch by the window, his attention absorbed in a book. He was angled slightly away from me, his face partially hidden, with the book covering the rest.

I shifted in the bed, my mouth dry, as a faint ache pulsed through my body. The stranger glanced up, closing his book as he rose to his feet. It was the headmaster from Redwood Academy, the one whose name I still hadn’t caught.

“You’re awake,” he observed with a slight nod. “I promised myself I’d leave if you didn’t wake by the end of this page.” He tapped the closed book, almost amused at the timing.

I swallowed, surprised he’d waited. “Why… why are you here, sir?”

“An investigation is underway. About a woman named Suzan,” he replied, voice steady, though his eyes darkened. “She attacked one of my students. You.” He emphasized the word ‘my,’ his tone protective. “Your safety is my responsibility.”

It took a moment for me to process his words. “Thank you, sir.”

“I brought the best healers to treat you,” he continued, his gaze assessing. “Your wounds are partially healed, though the scars will remain—the claw marks and the stab wound.”

Testing his words, I carefully rolled my shoulder. The sharp pain had faded to a dull throb, about a five on the pain scale. I traced my fingers over the scar on my back, feeling the roughened edges. Then, with a jolt, I realised my sheath was empty—the Queen’s dagger was missing. It must’ve been lost in the fight with Suzan or the bear. The thought of facing the Queen without it knotted my stomach. I was screwed…

Feeling the drain of fatigue, I leaned back on the bed, the moonlight casting its glow across the room, illuminating both our faces.

“Did they catch Suzan, sir?” I asked, clinging to some hope for closure.

He shook his head. “No. According to records, there’s no Suzan who owns a tavern in Karmak. Officially, she doesn’t exist.”

“What do you mean?”

He glanced down, his expression unreadable. “Suzan… her real name is Alez,” he said quietly. “She was my student, years ago.”

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

I blinked. “How do you know it’s her?”

He paused, running a hand over the cover of his book. “I recognized her by the cabin you were found in. She once lived there with her mother.”

“Oh…” I murmured, the pieces of his story only raising more questions.

As he tried to rise from the chair, he wavered slightly, his hand gripping the armrest. After a moment, he steadied himself and straightened, clutching his book as he gave me a final nod. He looked tired, almost drained. The headmaster was an odd man, but there was something in his manner—detached yet intent—that felt sincere.

Outside, a faint drizzle had begun, pattering against the window. People hurried home beneath their cloaks as guards continued their patrols, and in the courtyard below, two women scrubbed at the statue’s platform, washing away the blood I’d left behind.

“You should get some rest,” the headmaster said, glancing back at me. “Come to the academy tomorrow evening. We’ll discuss more then.”

“Alright,” I replied, sinking back into the bed as my eyes grew heavy again. “Thank you for visiting, sir.”

After the headmaster left, I grimaced, pushing myself upright and shuffling over to the window. The women who’d been scrubbing my blood from the statue were gone, and the streets outside were even emptier now, shrouded in the quiet of the night. A lone carriage rattled down the road, its wheels clicking softly on the cobblestones. It was the same type of carriage Mortan had used to pick me up before. From the back, a pale hand dangled limply, exposed beneath a thin, tattered sheet. I couldn’t make out the figure’s face, but the delicate ring on her finger glinted in the dim light—she was likely a woman. Another corpse…

With a heavy sigh, I pressed both hands onto the window sill, leaned forward, and let my eyes fall shut. I’d seen enough of this, too much to be disturbed by it anymore. Tomorrow, I’d finally get to search the Academy’s library. There had to be something in there that could explain that black eye I’d seen before being thrown into this world, something that could point me toward a way back home.

"Man… what a mess."

As if on cue, another carriage rolled past, stopping just outside the Vailhouse. Then another arrived, and then another—three carriages in total, each stopping in quick succession. A squad of guards stepped out from the first two, forming a tight circle around the final carriage. From it emerged the Queen herself, her gaze sharp and cold, cutting through the night air.

“Oh, I’m screwed.” My stomach twisted.

The guards closed ranks around her as they moved toward the Vailhouse, their armour catching the flickering torchlight. The staff members outside scrambled to their feet, bowing low in deference as she approached. She was coming for me, no doubt. And she wouldn’t be happy about that dagger. I couldn’t risk staying—if I didn’t leave now, it’d be either torture or worse. I had to run.

Ignoring the pain that shot through my battered body, I limped toward the door, slipping into a narrow, dimly lit hallway. On both ends were small windows, casting faint beams of light that pooled on the wooden floor. The walls were lined with tightly spaced doors, each leading to rooms as cramped as my own. Off to the right, a narrow staircase spiraled down to the lower floors.

I turned left, quickly scanning for any way out, and spotted an open window. Hobbling over, I peered down. About two metres below, a wooden pole jutted out from the wall, a flag flapping softly in the night breeze. Gulping, I clambered up onto the window sill, my fingers clutching the edges tightly as I lowered myself down. Taking a deep breath, I let go and stretched for the wooden pole, catching it just in time to avoid plummeting straight down. My arms shook from the effort as I tried to steady myself.

Then, crouching low, I gripped the pole firmly with both hands and released my grip, dropping the remaining few metres. The impact knocked the breath out of me, and I collapsed to my knees on the cobbled street, gasping in pain.

“Ugh…” I winced, clutching my side. “Get up, Ax. You have to get up.”

With a groan, I forced myself to my feet, ignoring the sharp ache in my legs, and slipped into a nearby alleyway. I pressed myself against the wall as another carriage passed, keeping low and out of sight. Once it was safely down the road, I ducked back onto the main street, casting a glance over my shoulder.

Then I froze. A guard was ahead, ten, maybe twenty metres away, his gaze narrowing as he spotted me. I knew I couldn’t outrun him, not in this state. My options were slipping away.

The guard raised an eyebrow, his eyes focusing on me as he started forward. “Oi, hold up,” he called, his tone more curious than hostile. “I recognize you. Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

I muttered under my breath, “Just my luck.”