"Michael! Where the hell have you been?"

Melody rushed toward the door as it opened, revealing a tall, wiry figure—familiar, yet changed. His head was lowered, and for once, his expression was vulnerable. It was a look she had never seen on him before.

Michael slowly raised his eyes, catching the worry—and subtle traces of anger—etched into her face. Behind her stood Rudy, who let out a sigh of relief the moment he saw him.

"Bro, we were worried," Rudy said, sitting up straighter on the lounge.

Michael took in the sight of his friends, and a warmth bloomed in his chest—something he hadn't felt in what seemed like a long time. It was comforting to know that someone cared enough to be worried, to scold him when he was late, to wait for him to return.

A lump formed in his throat, making it hard to speak.

"It's been hours," Melody exclaimed, grabbing his arm. Without giving him a chance to protest, she pulled him toward the lounge with firm authority, surprising both boys with her uncharacteristic forcefulness.

"You're going to sit down and tell us everything—and you'd better not lie."

She nudged him onto the seat and then took the armchair across from him before he could respond.

"Now talk."

Rudy adjusted his posture, clearly invested, his full attention on Michael.

Michael managed a weak chuckle. This felt less like a casual conversation and more like an interrogation. Still, he didn't mind. They deserved to know, and trying to hide the truth now would be pointless—especially since they'd find out eventually.

"I left the student council room about five minutes after you," he began, his voice low. "But then I was ambushed."

He recounted the events—at least what he could remember—right up to the point where he lost consciousness.

"Those fucking bastards!" Rudy exploded, his eyes flashing with fury. "Three-on-one!? Damn cowards…"

Melody sat frozen, her hand covering her mouth. Her face was pale with worry, but what stood out most was the guilt swimming in her eyes—like she blamed herself for what had happened.

Michael noticed it, but chose not to call her out. While she wasn't entirely innocent—after all, her father had used him as a pawn in his schemes—now wasn't the time to dig into blame.

"But apparently," Michael continued, his tone shifting, "I drew some kind of magic circle while I was half-conscious."

He paused. "The spell was so powerful, the headmaster had to intervene."

"Huh? Are you pulling my leg?" Rudy asked, leaning forward, brow furrowed. "You've barely been able to draw a basic circle without an incantation, and now you expect me to believe you cast a powerful spell?"

"I can't explain it either," Michael admitted, staying calm. "The headmaster said it was a spell from ancient magic—something even he hadn't seen before. It came from a scroll I found… before I ever came to the Winterborne estate."

His gaze shifted to Melody. Her expression had turned distant, still caught in the tangle of her emotions. She didn't seem to register the weight of his words.

But Rudy did.

"Wait…" he said, eyes widening. "Was that what caused the earthquake earlier?"

A beat passed.

"Don't tell me you were the one who attacked the castle? DAMN! That's so cool!"

"Earthquake?" Michael asked, brows furrowing in confusion.

He had been unconscious when the spell was released—he hadn't witnessed the aftermath. Whatever had happened once the magic circle was completed was a mystery to him.

"Dude, how could you miss it?" Rudy exclaimed. "The whole damn castle shook! Everyone thought we were under attack or something." His eyes lit up with excitement. "But to think it was you…"

Rudy shuffled forward, his enthusiasm barely contained, and suddenly grabbed Michael's hands.

"Michael… can you teach me the spell?" he asked, completely serious.

Michael couldn't help but laugh at his friend's sincerity, his expression softening.

"Sorry, man. The scroll's with the headmaster now—for safekeeping," he replied, a little wryly.

"Ah, damn it," Rudy groaned, clicking his tongue. He released Michael's hands and slouched back into the lounge, clearly disappointed.

Michael then turned to Melody, who was still watching him with a quiet intensity. Her expression was unreadable—worry, guilt, relief—they were all swirling behind her eyes.

"I'm fine, Melody," he said gently, hoping to soothe her. "There's no need to worry anymore."

Even at a glance, he could tell she blamed herself. And while he didn't hold her personally responsible, the situation was delicate. A wrong word could damage their friendship—maybe even ruin it.

"I…" she began softly, but her voice faltered. The words never came.

Michael gave her a moment, then continued with the next part—perhaps the most important.

"Troy, Randolph, and Peter are getting expelled."

"Hell yes!" Rudy pumped his fist. "Serves them right for jumping my boy!"

Melody's eyes widened at the news. Her brows furrowed deeply as she fell into thought, clearly running through the implications in her head.

"Was that really all they did, Michael?" she asked quietly, interrupting Rudy's victory celebration.

Michael blinked.

"What do you mean?"

Her gaze sharpened.

"If it was just a fight, there's no way the headmaster would expel all three of them—especially not Troy and Randolph. There has to be more."

Michael felt her words settle heavily on his shoulders. She wasn't wrong. If anyone understood the politics of the noble circles, it was Melody. There was no point hiding the truth from her—not anymore.

He had glossed over some details when explaining the ambush. Part of it was to keep them from worrying. The headmaster and Professor Stark had both told him how serious his injuries were. He hadn't planned on sharing that part.

But without context, Melody would never believe the punishment fit the crime.

Letting out a quiet breath, he nodded.

"According to Professor Stark… if it weren't for the headmaster's potion, I might've died," he said softly, his head lowering with the weight of the admission.

Melody's complexion turned pale. Her hands flew to her mouth in horror, eyes shimmering with tears.

Then, without warning, she lunged forward and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. The suddenness of it stunned him. For a second, he wondered if he was dreaming.

But the warmth of her body, the way her hair brushed against his cheek—it was all too real.

Michael's face turned bright red. His wide eyes flicked to Rudy, whose usual joking demeanor was gone. His face was grim.

"They almost killed you?" he asked, his voice low with disbelief.

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