Chapter 13: Capítulo 13: Through the Cracks

The upper wing of the library was cloaked in the kind of silence that felt sacred.

Noel sat alone at one of the corner tables, light from a single floating orb casting soft shadows over the pages in front of him. He wasn’t reading. He was waiting.

When Elyra von Estermont arrived, she didn’t say a word. Just pulled the chair across from him and slid a folded parchment onto the table.

Noel picked it up, unfolded it.

Three names. Three timestamps. East wing. Late hours. Routine movement.

His eyes narrowed.

“That’s three days in a row.”

“Four,” Elyra corrected. “One of them got missed.”

He turned the parchment slowly in his hands.

“You tell anyone else?”

“No.”

“Not even the director?”

Elyra’s gaze sharpened slightly.

“If I report it, someone sends a patrol. The students get scared. Maybe they disappear. Problem handled—on the surface.”

She leaned forward just slightly.

“But if this is what I think it is, it goes deeper. You don’t kill a parasite by flicking off the ones on the skin. You find the one laying eggs.”

Noel said nothing.

Just folded the paper and tucked it into his coat.

She didn’t wait for more.

“Do what you want with it,” she said, standing. “Just don’t make noise.”

She left without another word.

And Noel was alone again.

He leaned back in his seat, eyes drifting upward toward the stained-glass windows. Moonlight filtered through quietly.

His thoughts weren’t quiet.

They were bleeding.

The Bloody Banquet.

He remembered reading the Chapter like it was yesterday.

Two hundred and twelve dead.

Over five hundred injured.

A banquet turned to bloodshed. Screams in marble halls. Fire swallowing enchanted curtains. Professors crushed beneath collapsing wards. First-years trampled in the panic.

And at the center of it all—a single breach, from inside.

The book had been brutal. Raw.

Marcus had survived. He’d risen through the chaos. Fought the mastermind. Saved who he could. Became a hero.

But even he couldn’t stop the death toll.

‘If I step into this… there’s no pulling back.’

‘The moment I interfere, the story starts unraveling.’

‘But I’m not here to steal the spotlight.’

He stood up, the parchment in his pocket like a weight.

‘Marcus can deal with the boss. That’s his arc.’

‘Me? I just want to keep people alive.’

The dormitory was quiet.

Most students had already settled in—some reading, others chatting, a few preparing spells for the next day’s classes.

Noel’s room, as always, was silent.

He stood at the foot of his bed, methodically folding back the edges of a dark coat—one without insignia, without attention.

He wasn’t going out as a student of Class A tonight.

He was going as a shadow.

His wooden practice sword lay beside his belt.

He ignored it.

Instead, he reached beneath the bed and pulled out a slim black scabbard. The steel inside wasn’t enchanted. Wasn’t famous. Wasn’t even technically approved for students to carry after hours.

But it was sharp.

And it remembered how to cut.

Noel strapped it to his waist.

Then checked the time.

9:48 p.m.

He had just enough margin.

He pulled a small notebook from his desk drawer, flipped it open to a sketched map of the academy’s eastern sector—marked with red circles, corridors, and handwritten notes.

“East maintenance hall. Restricted. Old warding. Access through utility hatch near the second garden.”

No one else had to know.

‘If something goes wrong, I’ll vanish before anyone realizes I was there.’

He grabbed a small pouch of coins—just in case.

Slipped it into his coat.

And with one last look at the closed window, he turned off the lights and stepped out into the corridor, footsteps muffled by spell-woven soles.

Tonight, he wouldn’t just watch the story unfold.

He was going to crawl through its spine.

The night air outside the dormitory was sharp and clean.

Perfect for moving quietly.

Noel kept close to the walls as he made his way through the east wing. No students. No staff. Just the occasional flicker of a patrol light drifting through the upper towers like a lazy firefly.

He knew the timing.

He’d been watching it for days.

At exactly 10:04 p.m., he reached the concealed service corridor behind the botanical garden. The air grew colder here—older. The walls weren’t enchanted like the rest of the academy. This hallway had been forgotten on purpose.

Noel waited.

Leaned into the shadows.

And then he saw them.

Three figures, hoods up, moving in silence across the cobbled path. Their steps were too precise to be casual, too practiced to be just a prank.

They didn’t talk.

Didn’t hesitate.

They slipped into the corridor and opened a narrow metal hatch recessed into the wall.

One by one, they disappeared into the tunnel.

Noel waited fifteen seconds.

Then moved.

The hatch was still slightly ajar.

He eased it open and ducked inside, his boots landing soundlessly on ancient stone.

Inside, the air was damp and stale. The tunnel was narrow and low, lit only by the soft glow of mana moss clinging to the corners.

Noel followed at a distance, keeping to the sides, slowing his breath.

They didn’t hear him.

Didn’t know he was there.

And as the tunnel curved downward and deeper, the walls of the academy faded behind him.

He wasn’t in school anymore.

He was in something else entirely.

The tunnel went on longer than Noel expected.

Too long for a standard maintenance route.

The stone beneath his feet shifted from refined academy tile to rougher, older brick. The enchantments faded. The air turned colder—thicker, like it hadn’t been disturbed in years.

Eventually, the passage sloped upward again.

And then—

A rusted gate.

The students ahead didn’t even slow. One of them raised a hand, muttered something Noel couldn’t hear, and the seal on the gate clicked softly.

It opened.

They stepped through.

Noel waited.

Counted to twenty.

Then followed.

Beyond the gate was… Valeria.

But not the shining, manicured city he’d walked through before.

This was the underbelly.

Old stone streets cracked with time. Lanterns flickering dimly, barely held together by failing enchantments. Abandoned buildings leaning into each other like drunks. This part of the capital had been forgotten—or ignored on purpose.

The students moved quickly through the alleys, crossing two empty streets and ducking into a back lane beneath a crooked sign Noel couldn’t read.

At the end of that lane, they reached a gray brick building, tall, windowless, and absolutely normal in the worst possible way.

It wasn’t guarded by magic.

It wasn’t marked with banners.

It looked like nothing.

Which meant it was probably everything.

The students approached the door, knocked three times—two quick, one long—and then whispered something.

A metallic clank followed.

The door opened.

They stepped inside.

Noel, from a distance, watched the door close.

Then moved forward.

Noel waited nearly a full minute after the last student vanished inside.

He stayed low, back to the alley wall, eyes scanning the perimeter.

No movement. No magical wards. No watchers on the roof.

Just that one door.

Steel-reinforced. Quiet.

He stepped forward.

Three knocks—two quick, one long.

Exactly as he’d seen.

A slit in the door slid open, revealing a pair of dark eyes behind it.

“Password,” the voice said.

Flat. Male. Not a student.

Noel kept his voice calm, slightly lowered.

“I was told the door opened for those who already know.”

A pause.

Then—

“No password, no entry.”

The slit began to close.

Noel slipped a small pouch of coins from his coat pocket.

Held it up. Let the clink speak for him.

“Maybe we can skip the formalities.”

The eyes narrowed.

Then the slit shut with a snap.

A second later, the door opened just a crack.

The man on the other side was tall, broad-shouldered, face partially shadowed.

He looked at the pouch in Noel’s hand—

Then slapped it aside.

Coins scattered across the cobblestones.

“You think this is a market?” the man growled.

Noel didn’t flinch.

But he raised both hands slightly in a show of retreat.

“Was worth a try.”

“Try it again,” the man said, stepping back into the threshold, “and you leave with less than you came with. Like a tongue.”

The door slammed shut.

The alley went quiet.

Noel stood there for a few seconds longer, letting the silence settle.

Then turned and walked away—slow.

This wasn’t over.

Not even close.

Noel didn’t run.

He didn’t need to.

He walked calmly down the alley, hands in his coat pockets, like he’d been there for no reason at all.

Just another curious kid who took a wrong turn in the dark.

Once he was out of view of the building, he ducked into a recessed doorway and crouched down. His breathing was steady. His heart wasn’t.

He pulled a small notepad from inside his coat and flipped to a blank page.

Observations:

Three knocks – 2 short, 1 long.

Password required—spoken, not magical.

Door guard: male, older, not a student. Likely muscle, not leadership.

Entrance secure. Reliant on obscurity and controlled access.

He sketched a rough outline of the alley and building:

One entry. No visible runes. No upper windows.

Stones near the base—older, weathered. Possible maintenance access?

Trash bins nearby—shielding potential for stakeouts.

He tapped the pencil once on the page.

‘It’s not a fortress. It’s a secret. And secrets crack easier than walls.’

He didn’t get inside tonight.

But that was never the real goal.

Now he knew where to look.

Now he knew how they moved, where they met, what kind of security they had—and most importantly, what they didn’t expect

.

‘Next time, I’m not coming to knock.’

He tore the page, folded it tight, and slipped it into a hidden pocket sewn inside his coat.

Then he rose, and vanished into the city’s veins.

The return trip was quiet.

Quieter than it should’ve been.

Noel retraced his steps through the same tunnel—moving slower now, more deliberate. The light from the moss barely reached the floor. His boots barely made a sound.

He kept checking over his shoulder. Not from fear.

From instinct.

By the time he reached the old service hatch behind the academy gardens, the first hints of dawn were bleeding into the horizon. The sky was soft gray now, brushing the rooftops of Valeria with pale light.

He emerged into the east wing, straightened his coat, and moved through the empty halls like a ghost.

Not a single patrol crossed his path.

Back at his dorm, he shut the door with a soft click, leaned against it for a second, and finally let the tension bleed out of his shoulders.

He walked to his desk, pulled the folded note from inside his coat, and tucked it beneath a false panel under the drawer.

Then sat on the edge of his bed.

Still dressed.

Still thinking.

‘There’s no doubt now.’

‘Someone’s organizing from the inside.’

‘And if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I might’ve dismissed Elyra’s instinct as politics.’

But she was right.

And now he had proof.

Just not the kind he could show anyone—yet.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on the floor.

‘I don’t know who they are.’

‘But I know where they are.’

‘And that’s a start.’

The sky outside was soft gray, morning just beginning to bleed through the frost-kissed windows of the dormitory.

Noel sat at his desk, the candle beside him burned low, barely more than a flicker now.

He hadn’t slept.

Not because he couldn’t.

Because he shouldn’t.

His notebook lay open in front of him, half a page filled with scribbled notes, alley layouts, behavioral patterns, and a sketch of the guard’s face—just in case.

But something still gnawed at the edge of his thoughts.

He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

And then—he remembered.

‘Wait.’

A detail from the book.

Buried deep in a side arc most readers skimmed.

A minor encounter, mostly used for comedic relief, where Marcus bought an illusion trinket during a field trip to the outer districts—an enchanted accessory that let the user change their appearance for a short time.

It was flawed. Unstable.

But cheap. Common enough.

And perfect for slipping past a password-locked door.

Noel opened his eyes.

‘I don’t need to force my way in.’

‘I just need to look like someone who belongs.’

He turned to a fresh page and scribbled a name:

“Disguise-class illusion items – outer market stalls.”

Then added:

“Priority: acquisition.”

He sat back, tapping the pencil once against the desk.

‘One step at a time.’

‘Find the item. Learn the behavior. I’ll get in.’

‘And then… we see how deep this rabbit hole goes.’

Outside, the sun finally broke over the horizon.

But Noel wasn’t looking at the light.

He was already planning how to walk into the dark—and come back with names.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep