Enchanted University of Magemenos

Chapter 83:King with his cheerleaders

I don't know when or how I ended up sleeping when I was supposed to watch over Nathan. Damn it. I'm so bad with responsibility.

My heart slams against my chest as I jolt awake, my mind still sluggish from exhaustion. But the second my eyes land on the bed—empty, sheets slightly wrinkled but no sign of him—panic kicks in.

"Nathan!" I shout, my voice echoing off the walls.

Silence.

I shoot to my feet, scanning the room like a lunatic. My pulse pounds in my ears as my brain scrambles for answers. He was in no condition to walk. I'm sure of it. So that leaves only two possibilities—someone took him, or...

"Oh, shit," I mutter, gripping my head. "Did he get kidnapped? What kind of mess is this now?"

A cold chill runs down my spine. Whatever happened, it wasn't good. And if I don't find him fast, things might get a whole lot worse.

I bolt outside, my breath ragged.

"Nathan's missing!" I shout, my voice cutting through the murmurs of the group like a knife.

Heads snap toward me, eyes widening in confusion and alarm. A girl near the entrance scoffs, arms folded. "What do you mean? I've been standing here the whole time. Nathan never came out."

My stomach twists. "Then he's been taken?"

A guy frowns. "You're jumping to conclusions. Maybe he just—"

"He didn't just wander off," I snap. "He was barely conscious! Someone took him."

Another girl raises an eyebrow. "And how do you know that?"

I clench my fists. "Because he couldn't even stand on his own, let alone walk out of this place unnoticed. And if you say he didn't pass through here, then there's only one explanation. He was taken—maybe through the windows, or—"

"My baby! What happened to him?!" the girl gasps dramatically, clutching her chest like she's in a soap opera.

I roll my eyes. This girl, seriously.

Before I can respond, a loud THUD echoes from the resting room.

Every head whips toward the sound.

For a split second, we're frozen. Then, as if a spell has broken, we all sprint toward the room in a chaotic rush, pushing and stumbling over each other.

Inside, Nathan stands in the dim light, gripping the cabinet for support, his other hand pressed against the bandage on his abdomen. His face is pale, sweat glistening on his forehead, his breath heavy but steady.

"NATHAN!" one of the girls shrieks. "We were so scared for you!"

Two girls dart toward him like they're in a competition, each grabbing one of his hands as if he might crumble without their support.

Nathan blinks, his sharp gaze flickering between them, then to me. His expression unreadable.

But something about the way he grips the cabinet makes my stomach churn.

He's weak. He's hurting.

But he's also... tense.

Like he's bracing for something.

Or someone.

The Nathan King has arrived with his cheerleaders.

I cross my arms, watching the circus unfold.

"Slowly, hold me," one girl practically purrs, her face flushed as she clings to his arm like a lifeline.

"Umm... I'm fine," Nathan mumbles, awkwardly prying their hands off—only to immediately stumble.

"See? You're not fine!" The first girl gasps dramatically. "Leave her, hold me instead! I can support you myself, Nat."

"No! I came first, and he knows me better! So you.. leave, bitch," the other girl snaps, flipping her hair aggressively.

Nathan stares at her, his brow furrowing, as if trying to dig her out of the depths of his memory.

I almost snort. The guy who walks around with the biggest ego in the world actually forgets people? Classic.

The catfight escalates, voices rising, hands on hips, dramatic glares exchanged like they're in some kind of soap opera.

I sigh, utterly bored.

Maybe I should get popcorn.

Nathan raises a hand. "One sec, stop. Stop!"

The girls freeze mid-argument, eyes wide, breath hitched like they're waiting for some grand romantic reveal. The suspense in the room is thicker than fog in a horror movie.

Now this is getting interesting, I murmur under my breath, fully enjoying the show.

Nathan exhales sharply, then points—at me.

"The girl there," he says, his voice firm but his eyes practically screaming for help. "She's my friend. She'll help me out."

Wait... what?

A second of silence. Then—

"Oh, yes, sorry!" I say, springing into action before the two vultures can recover. Swiftly, I push past them and take his arm, wrapping it around my neck for support.