The Assassin Classmate Was Watching

After I wrecked Liah Belcross’s training grounds and even ruined Professor Seraphine Elua’s lecture, I became even more notorious inside the Holy Swordsman Academy. And not in a good way.

“That’s the guy. The senior who badmouthed the Sword Star’s daughter.”

“Didn’t he flip a Holy Department lecture ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠yesterday too?”

“I heard he smashed one of Professor Seraphine’s sacred artifacts.”

“Does he even ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠need to wait for the expulsion evaluation?”

Whispers clung to me with every step down the hallway. Students parted like water the moment I approached. A few glared with open disgust, while others bowed their heads in obvious fear.

Worthless senior. Black teaching assistant. Expulsion candidate. To the nicknames I already carried, it looked like one more was about to stick: Lecture Destroyer.

“…This is a good development,” I muttered under my breath.

My reputation tanking was well within the plan. If Kyle Rowen suddenly started acting like a decent senior, that would be far more suspicious. I had insulted Liah to save her body from breaking down, and I had sabotaged the lecture to stop Seraphine from shortening her own lifespan with that purification demonstration. On the surface, every action fit the original Kyle Rowen perfectly.

The problem was—

Too many eyes on me now.

I glanced sideways at the faint shadow reflected in the window at the end of the corridor. Sunlight slanted across the long hallway. Beneath the ordinary noise of students coming and going, a different presence threaded through it—almost imperceptible. No footsteps. Almost no breathing. But it was there. Between the walls and pillars, in the reflection of the windows, beneath the shadow of the stairs. Someone was watching me.

Without knowledge of the original story, I would have missed it. But I knew this presence.

Evelyin Crow. A fourth-year at the Holy Swordsman Academy, same year as me. On the surface, an ordinary Combat Department student. In truth, a Royal Shadow agent planted here as a watcher.

In the original story, she was the one who recorded Kyle Rowen’s downfall. Every scene of him abusing his assistant instructor privileges, threatening students, clashing with the faculty—she reported it all to the royal family. And in the end, she had stood in the capital square during his public execution, watching his death without a flicker of emotion.

She wasn’t supposed to latch on this quickly.

In the original route, Evelyin only began seriously monitoring Kyle much later—after the Maheun contamination incident erupted inside the academy and the royal family moved directly. Yet here she was already. The Liah incident. The Seraphine incident. Two interventions must have caught her attention.

“How annoying,” I said, deliberately lowering my voice.

A first-year student passing nearby flinched hard. I walked past without even looking at him. My reputation wasn’t the important thing right now.

Tonight. The night practice roster.

The event that produced the story’s first casualty was about to begin. It wasn’t a full-scale Maheun monster attack yet, but one wrong assignment to a danger zone would leave two students stranded on the forest outskirts in a restricted area. One of them was Mila Lupus—the beastman junior from the arena.

In the original story, worn down by discrimination and abuse, she slipped away from her group during night practice. She was torn apart by a Maheun monster in the woods outside the academy. That death served as an early shock to show players the academy was no longer safe. For me now, it was a death flag that had to be prevented.

I turned my steps toward the administrative building. I couldn’t officially revise the roster. That would require explanations—why Mila Lupus was in danger, why she couldn’t be placed in the same zone as Liah Belcross, why Maheun remnants would appear in a certain sector tonight. There was no way to explain any of it.

So there was only one option. Change it secretly.

Abusing assistant instructor authority. Tampering with records. It was simply adding one more item to the crimes already listed on my Expulsion Evaluation Notice.

“Damn it,” I twisted the corner of my mouth. “At least it’ll look like something the original Kyle would do.”

The Administrative Building Records Room was locked after class hours. But Kyle Rowen was a special-duty assistant instructor. And unfortunately for everyone, this bastard knew every regulation and the location of every spare key.

I waited until night fell. Moonlight settled over the academy’s white towers. The hallways, emptied of the day’s chatter, were eerily quiet. The mana lamps on the walls cast a cool blue glow, and the marble floors shone coldly.

I adjusted my black gloves and stopped in front of the records room door. A locking spell sealed it. An ordinary student could never open it. What about an assistant instructor? Officially, permission from the supervising professor was required. But Kyle Rowen had always hated rules.

I pressed the spare seal I had hidden in a drawer onto the pattern. The locking spell hummed low. Click. The door opened.

“If I get caught here, it’s really over,” I muttered, stepping inside anyway.

The records room smelled of paper. File cabinets lined every wall, and the night practice rosters for each department were sorted on the central desk. I located the Combat Department’s night practice list.

My fingertips flipped through the pages. Liah Belcross. Mila Lupus. The two names were in the same group.

“As expected.”

Liah’s body was still unstable. Even though I had stopped her training, her pride would likely push her to overdo it. Mila would end up isolated within the group. The Sword Star’s daughter and the arena-born beastman. It was obvious which way the other students would gravitate. And in the process, Mila would fall behind—just like in the original story.

I picked up a pen. Completely rewriting the official roster would leave traces. So I would touch it as little as possible. I moved Liah to the safe Zone 1. I reassigned Mila to rear support in Zone 2, where surveillance would be easier. For the dangerous Zone 3, I placed two senior students from the advanced practice class. At minimum, they should be able to endure a sudden appearance of Maheun remnants.

Scratch. The pen nib scraped across paper.

At that moment, a tiny sound came from outside the window.

Tap.

It was as light as a raindrop, but it wasn’t raining tonight.

I stopped the pen. One presence. On the windowsill. No—outside the window. The ceiling.

I didn’t look up. Instead, I continued pretending to adjust the roster.

She’s watching.

Evelyin Crow. True to her assassin background, her presence was nearly nonexistent. But not perfect. At least Kyle Rowen’s body seemed to live up to the title of special-duty Combat Department assistant instructor.

The shadow perched on the ceiling beam held its breath. I finished changing the last name, organized the papers, and spoke quietly.

“Admission fee is required for the show.”

Silence.

I lifted my head. “How long do you plan to cling to the ceiling?”

The mana lamp flickered. The shadow descended without a sound. Black hair. An expressionless face. Cold, narrow eyes like knife blades. Even when Evelyin Crow landed, her footsteps were almost nonexistent.

She stood before me and stared for a moment.

“You caught me.” Her voice was flat. No surprise, no panic.

I sneered. “If you’re going to hold your breath, do it properly. Is the Royal Shadow training students this sloppily these days?”

Evelyin’s eyebrow twitched the tiniest fraction. “You even know my real identity?”

I clicked my tongue inwardly. I had spoken too fast. But words already spoken couldn’t be taken back. I shrugged.

“A dog that smells of the royal family can be recognized from a distance.”

“Dog, huh.” Evelyin didn’t get angry. Instead, she tilted her head slightly with what looked like interest. That emotionless reaction was even more unpleasant.

I spoke coldly on purpose. “If you’ve seen enough, get lost. Unauthorized entry into the records room is grounds for punishment.”

“You’re also entering without authorization.”

“I’m an assistant instructor.”

“Did you get permission?”

“I am the permission.”

A truly Kyle Rowen-like answer. Evelyin watched me for a moment, then her gaze dropped to the roster on the desk.

“You changed the night practice list.”

“So?”

“You pulled Liah Belcross and Mila Lupus out of the danger zone.”

“Got a complaint?”

“It’s strange.” Evelyin took one step closer. “Liah Belcross is the Sword Star’s daughter. Putting her in a danger zone would be more natural. Mila Lupus is from the arena, so her combat sense is high too.”

“The academy keeps having practice accidents because people only look at paper specs before throwing students into zones.”

“That’s true.” Evelyin admitted it readily.

I felt a flicker of displeasure. It would have been easier if she pushed back. If she cursed, threatened, or quoted regulations, I could have played the villain and shoved her away. But Evelyin was observing. Every word, every glance, every twitch of my fingertips—like I was some kind of biological specimen.

“But that’s not what’s strange,” she said. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠“You moved as if you knew an accident would happen in Zone 3 tonight.”

The air grew cold. I laughed.

“You have a rich imagination.”

“You also guessed Liah Belcross’s pain exactly.”

“Anyone with eyes could see it.”

“You knew about the crack in Professor Seraphine’s divine power too.”

“Anyone with ears could hear it.”

“Then did your eyes and ears also tell you about the problem in the danger zone tonight?”

“Yes.”

“About something that hasn’t even happened yet?”

I didn’t answer. Evelyin’s gaze fixed on my face. Those eyes were accustomed to darkness. Eyes that read people’s lies. The first thing Royal Shadow agents learned before they learned to kill: breathing, pulse, tremors in the gaze, gaps between words. Eyes that read all of it.

I deliberately let irritation color my voice. “If you’re done with the questions, get lost. Or should I put your name in Zone 3 as well?”

“That would be inconvenient.”

“Scared?”

“No. Because then I’d get curious why you’re not putting me in the danger zone.”

Annoying. She was a truly annoying type. I folded the roster and slipped it back between the original files.

“You saw nothing.”

“Why?”

“Because reporting it would cause trouble for you too.”

Evelyin didn’t smile. She simply said quietly, “Reporting to the royal family is my job.”

I glared at her. “Then write it like this. Kyle Rowen abused his assistant instructor authority again and tampered with the practice roster. Reason unknown. Presumed to be the usual intent to harass students.”

“Is that what I should write?”

“That’s what you should write if you want to live long.”

Only after the words left my mouth did I realize I had slipped again. Evelyin’s eyes changed slightly.

“I would live long?”

I shut my mouth. Evelyin stared at me quietly. Her voice dropped lower.

“Kyle Rowen.”

“…”

“You’re pretending to harass students while clearing away danger.”

“Nonsense.”

“You stopped the training that would have destroyed Liah Belcross’s body.”

“I only insulted her.”

“You halted Professor Seraphine’s purification demonstration.”

“I only ruined the lecture.”

“Tonight you pulled students with high chances of dying during night practice out of the danger zone.”

“It’s abuse of authority.”

“Then why does every single result point toward saving someone?”

I stepped toward her. Deliberately threatening. Kyle Rowen’s face was useful at times like this. When I narrowed my eyes and twisted my lips, most students took a step back. But Evelyin didn’t retreat. Instead, she looked up at me and asked.

“Why go that far?”

“Don’t misunderstand,” I stopped right in front of her. “I am not performing good deeds.”

“Then?”

“I’m removing variables that interfere with my expulsion evaluation. If a student dies, it becomes the assistant instructor’s responsibility. If a professor collapses, the practice schedule gets messed up. If the Sword Star’s daughter is ruined, the Belcross family will make noise.”

“What about Mila Lupus?”

“If an arena-born beastman dies, human rights groups will become annoying.”

Even to my own ears it was trash-level excuse-making. But it was exactly the sort of thing Kyle Rowen would say. Evelyin remained silent for a moment, then spoke very softly.

“Your lies are clumsy.”

“What?”

“The words are smooth, but the direction is wrong.”

“…”

“A true villain doesn’t explain his own self-interest in that much detail.”

Strength flowed into my fingertips. I considered grabbing her by the collar. At least that would look villainous. But I didn’t. Threats meant nothing to a Royal Shadow agent. They would only give her more information. I stepped back.

“Whatever you see or think is none of my business. However, if you block my path—”

“You’ll kill me?” Evelyin asked.

Expressionless face. Voice without emotion. Yet strangely, the question carried a nuance closer to confirmation than provocation. I looked at her and laughed.

“No.”

Evelyin’s eyes trembled the smallest ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠bit. I spoke quietly.

“I’ll keep you alive in the way you fear most.”

“…What is that?”

“Forcing you to choose.”

Silence fell. For the first time, something disappeared from Evelyin’s face. It was only for a very brief moment, but I saw it. A Royal Shadow watcher who moved on command, killed on command, and looked away on command. What she feared most wasn’t death. It was choice. Judging for herself and taking responsibility for it—the one thing the original Evelyin Crow had never been able to do until the end.

I gritted my teeth inwardly. I said something useless again.

But it was too late. Evelyin was looking at me. Deeper than before. More dangerously. With eyes that said she would not let go.

I closed the file cabinet and headed for the records room exit.

“Forget what happened today.”

“I don’t want to.”

An immediate answer. I stopped.

“What?”

“I don’t want to forget.” Evelyin sat on the edge of the desk and looked at me. “I’ll put the royal report on hold.”

“On hold?”

“For now.”

“On what basis are you putting judgment on hold?”

“Because I don’t know.” She said, “That’s why I want to see more.”

I frowned. “At me?”

“Yes.”

“Meaning you’ll surveil me?”

“I already was.”

“How bold.”

“You caught me.”

Irritation surged up my throat. I grabbed the doorknob.

“Do as you like. But if you hang around me and get hurt, I won’t take responsibility.”

“You don’t have to.” Evelyin said quietly. “I’ve always been the one who hurts others, not the one who gets hurt.”

There was no pride in those words. Just a statement of fact.

I opened the door. Moonlight lay long across the corridor. The blue mana lamp inside the records room stretched my shadow far behind me. Just before stepping out, I asked one last question.

“Why aren’t you reporting?”

Evelyin thought for a moment. Then she answered.

“Because I saw you preventing students from dying before I saw you harassing them.”

“It’s a misunderstanding.”

“Maybe.”

“If it’s a misunderstanding, you won’t live long.”

“That’s why I’m going to keep watching.”

I didn’t answer. I stepped out of the records room. The door closed quietly behind me. The corridor fell silent once more. But it was no longer quiet. A gaze clung to my back. Like a shadow. Like the tip of a black blade. The Royal Shadow watcher had begun to truly look at me.

I gritted my teeth and walked. This was bad. Liah had taken the training schedule to heart. Seraphine remembered my words. And now Evelyin had begun to suspect my actions. I had moved like a villain to avoid breaking the original story’s flow, yet the most dangerous people had all started paying attention to me.

“This is insane,” I swallowed a low curse.

Then, from behind me, a very small voice spoke. The records room door was definitely closed, yet the voice rode the darkness all the way to my ear.

“You.”

I stopped walking. It was Evelyin’s voice. Seemingly emotionless, yet strangely filled with certainty.

“Do you know the future?”