Chapter 230: You Don’t Trust Me, Do you?

Noah’s instinct screamed at him.

At the very last second, he twisted his torso.

The blade missed his heart by inches, carving a clean line across his chest instead. Pain exploded through him.

But the sword didn’t stop there.

It tore through the golden barrier behind him, and with a deafening crack, the wall shattered.

A gap, wide and jagged, opened in the golden field.

Noah didn’t hesitate.

He dove.

He hit the ground outside the barrier hard, rolling once, then lifted his hand. Mana surged weakly through his veins.

Null Stride.

The world blinked.

He vanished.

Noah reappeared inside the infirmary. The shift left him staggering, his vision swimming, his lungs burning.

He barely managed to stay upright for two steps before his knees buckled.

His hand caught the edge of a bed, leaving a bloody smear across the sheets.

“Help…” he croaked, voice barely audible.

The nurse at the far end of the room turned just as he collapsed.

Her startled gasp echoed through the ward.

And then, everything went dark.

[][][][][]

Noah woke slowly, his eyelids fluttering open to a haze of pale sunlight.

His head felt heavy. Not painful, but thick and woolen, like his thoughts were moving through fog.

For a moment, he wasn’t sure where he was. The ceiling above him was whitewashed stone that looked quite familiar.

The infirmary.

He exhaled, sinking deeper into the bed, every limb leaden.

Then came the dryness. His throat felt parched, and his tongue as rough as sandpaper.

His lips moved before his mind even caught up.

“Water…”

A moment passed. Then, cool fingers brushed his jaw, lifting his chin.

A cup pressed gently to his lips, and water flowed over his tongue, cold, clean, and blessedly soothing.

He swallowed greedily, the relief so good it was almost painful.

When the cup drew back, Noah’s eyes slowly opened again, the fog clearing just enough for him to see who it was.

Professor Cecilia sat beside his bed.

Her long brown hair shimmered faintly in the light, the strands catching flecks of gold from the sun beyond the window.

Her expression, however, was not soft. It was that familiar mix of exasperation and concern that only she could pull off.

She caught his gaze and smiled faintly. “You’re awake.”

Noah rubbed his temple. “Barely.”

Cecilia chuckled softly, setting the cup aside. “You’re lucky the nurse found you when she did. You nearly died, Noah.”

Noah winced. “Guess I overdid it.”

“Guess?” she echoed dryly, arching a brow. Then her tone softened. “Your body’s healed. The healers did their job well, but you need rest.”

“You lost a lot of vital energy when the spells were used to repair you. That’s not something magic can fix instantly. You’ll need food, rest, and time.”

Noah gave a half-hearted nod and sank deeper into the pillow. “Time,” he muttered. “Always time.”

Cecilia watched him for a moment longer, then stood, smoothing down the folds of her cloak. “You should try to sleep again. I’ll come by later.”

“Mm.”

She turned to leave, pausing briefly at the doorway.

For a fleeting moment, he thought she might ask something. What happened, maybe. But she only sighed and said, “Don’t make a habit of this, Noah.”

And then she was gone.

The room was quiet for a while after that.

The faint ticking of the clock on the wall filled the silence, joined occasionally by the soft footsteps of nurses moving about outside the ward.

Noah lay there, staring at the ceiling, his mind turning over.

Cecilia hadn’t asked.

She always asked. Whenever he got into trouble, or came back half-dead from training, she asked how, why, what were you thinking.

But this time, she’d simply left after confirming he was alive. No lecture. No reprimand. Nothing.

That, more than the pain, unsettled him.

When the door opened again, he looked up, only to see the nurse on duty walking in, carrying a tray.

“Lunch,” she said with a warm smile. “Professor Cecilia said you might wake up hungry.”

Noah managed a small grin. “She’s usually right.”

The nurse set the tray on his lap, the smell of warm stew and buttered bread filling the air. “Eat up. You need to get your strength back.”

“Thanks.”

She smiled again, gave a polite nod, and left.

Noah looked at the tray, filled with simple food, but it looked better than anything he’d eaten in days. He picked up the spoon and started to eat.

As he did, his thoughts drifted again.

’Cecilia knows,’ he thought. ’Or at least she suspects.’

He could feel it. She wasn’t just ignoring him. She was waiting. Watching to see if he’d confess on his own.

But the question was… what was he going to do about it?

That wasn’t happening.

[][][][][]

By the time evening rolled in, the light through the window had dimmed to amber.

The infirmary was quiet again, with all the beds except his empty.

Of course, this was due to the fact that the holiday break had left the academy half-deserted.

Noah was sitting up now, staring absently at the fading sunlight when the door opened once more.

“Still awake?”

He didn’t have to look to recognize the voice.

Professor Cecilia entered the room, her expression weary but composed.

She was out of her usual teaching robes, wearing a lighter outfit. A simple white tunic beneath a short silver jacket, her hair tied back.

She didn’t speak immediately. She just walked to his bed, pulled a chair close, and sat down.

For a minute, neither of them said anything.

Then she sighed, long and tired, rubbing her temples. “Let’s hear it.”

Noah blinked. “Hear what?”

“Your excuse.”

Her tone wasn’t angry. It was almost… defeated.

He tilted his head slightly. “Excuse?”

She folded her arms and met his gaze squarely.

“The last time you ended up here, you said you fell during training. The time before that, you said you were testing a new spell. And now…”

Her lips quirked. “What is it this time?”

Noah looked down at his bandaged hand, flexing it slowly. “Does it matter?”

“Yes.” Her answer was immediate. “It matters because I need to know whether I’m supposed to ignore this. Or step in.”

The silence stretched.

Finally, Noah sighed. “Fine.”

He turned his gaze towards the window, where the orange light of the setting sun bled through the glass. “I was training.”

Cecilia scoffed, loud enough to make him look back at her. “If that’s the best lie you can come up with, you should’ve just said nothing.”

He frowned slightly. “Then what should I have said?”

She didn’t answer right away.

Her eyes softened, and for a moment, he could see the conflict there. The teacher struggling between duty and care.

Then she exhaled slowly. “The problem isn’t your excuse, Noah.”

“Then what is it?”

“The problem,” she said quietly, “is that you don’t trust me. And because of that, I have come to not trust you.”

That hit harder than he expected.

Noah stared at her, his mind briefly blank. “You don’t—?”

“I don’t,” she said, cutting him off before he could finish. “Not anymore.”

Her tone wasn’t cold, just tired.

Cecilia leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs.

“You hide too much. You disappear for hours. You come back covered in wounds that no training exercise can explain. You think I don’t notice, but I do.”

Noah looked away.

She let the silence sit between them for a few seconds longer before speaking again, this time, quieter.

“I received a report earlier today.”

That made him glance back at her.

Her eyes met his. “Captain Roderick filed it himself.”

A sinking feeling spread through Noah’s chest.

“He said he fought off someone trying to gain access to a crown-protected monolith.”

She paused, watching his expression.

When he didn’t speak, she added softly, “That was you, wasn’t it?”

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