Wicked Academy

31

As Jason dropped Stella at the entrance of Lacunae, his footsteps echoed in the hallway, heavy with the weight of everything that had just transpired. As he walked toward the Tyler Atelier, the gnawing unease only grew.

The tension from Professor Johnson's training session still simmered in his veins. He couldn't shake the feeling that the professor had orchestrated this entire ordeal, as if the Veil of Silence hadn't just been a challenge, but a provocation. Jason could feel it in his bones, a sense that Johnson had planned it all with a hidden purpose.

The thought consumed him as he walked, his hand running absently through his hair. It was clear now, Professor Johnson had picked them for a reason. had tested them, pushed them, almost as if he knew exactly what would trigger them.

The unease in Jason's chest deepened, like a dark cloud gathering above him. His thoughts spiraled, the professor's subtle hints planting a seed of suspicion he couldn't shake off. Jason cursed under his breath, the tension tightening in his chest. It hadn't been a direct accusation, but it didn't need to be. The look in Johnson's eyes spoke volumes.

The affair with Stella.

Professor Johnson hadn't said anything outright, but the weight of the unspoken words was too much to ignore. The more Jason thought about it, the more exposed he felt. Their connection, however deep or fleeting, was something he had tried to keep hidden.

It was wrong, everything about it defied reason. And yet, no matter how much he tried to suppress it, the pull toward her was relentless. She unsettled him in ways he couldn't name, stirred something deep in his chest that he had no defense against. She was gravity, and he was caught in her orbit, fighting it was futile–a force beyond his control and he found himself drawn to her more than he could control. More than he should.

He had always prided himself on being in control, on keeping his emotions at bay, but Stella was different. And it scared him.

He let out a sharp breath, trying to steady himself, and turned the corner toward the boutique. It felt like a lifetime ago that he had been untouchable, focused, but now everything seemed more fragile.

Professor Johnson. Stella. They had unraveled something in him, stirred a storm he couldn't seem to control, let alone navigate.

Shaking his head, he forced himself to concentrate on the present. He was here to prepare for the ball. He couldn't afford to dwell on things he couldn't control, things that were beyond his understanding.

Whatever was unraveling between him and Stella, whatever Professor Johnson had in mind for them, it would have to wait. Tonight wasn't about tangled emotions or unanswered questions. It was about duty, about legacy, the weight of the academy's expectations pressing down on him, demanding he set everything else aside.

With a final, deep breath, Jason steeled himself, pushing aside his swirling thoughts. The atelier came into view, the door opening with a soft creak as he stepped inside. The scent of freshly dyed fabric, soft leather, and polished wood enveloped him.

The space was divided into different sections for each faction, with boys already preparing for the ball, some slipping into their suits, others adjusting their masks, and a few getting their hair done.

The Tyler Atelier is a room full of quiet, focused energy, a sharp contrast to the Lacunae's livelier atmosphere. The suits here reflect not only personal style but also the faction's traits. As Jason walks toward his faction, he notices the colors and textures, the care that each tailor has put into every detail.

Jason's friends are already suited up. Justin, in a sleek grey suit, stands out with his sharp look. Noah's black suit, with white lines cutting through it in a geometric pattern, has a clean, bold vibe. Alex, ever the stylish one, wears a dark navy blue suit that feels refined but daring. The colors are bold, yet the materials are rich, showing the mastery of the tailors who worked on them. Jason's eyes flicker across them, acknowledging their readiness and feeling a rush of pressure to catch up.