Chapter 251: The Maid

Words : 1060 Updated : Sep 27th, 2025

Chapter 251: The Maid There were benches. A training circle etched into the floor, its runes faded but still faintly active. The wall lights adjusted with the hour, keeping the courtyard bathed in soft nighttime hues—dim enough to relax, bright enough to see. Ethan walked to the tree near the center. It was bearing fruit. Not a kind he recognized. But it smelled clean. Fresh. Slightly sweet—but not synthetic. Like something that had grown over time, not cultivated in a lab or enhanced through tech. The kind of growth that requires patience, not input settings. He paused there for a while, one hand resting near the trunk. Then turned and walked back inside. Everly had already passed out on the couch, curled sideways, one leg hanging off, arms tucked under a blanket she must’ve pulled from the storage drawer beneath the console. Her breathing was calm. Steady. She hadn’t even noticed when the lights dimmed to match the evening cycle. Evelyn was still at the console in the main room, standing upright and focused. She was reviewing orientation files—her eyes scanning each line with quiet discipline. She didn’t tap quickly, didn’t rush. She processed. Filed. Absorbed. It wasn’t how most students prepared. But Evelyn wasn’t like most students. Ethan walked past both without interrupting. He stepped into the hallway, then into his room. The door opened smoothly. The lighting was adjusted to a soft, warm hue—low enough to relax, but not so dim that it felt unnatural. The kind of light meant to settle the mind. His eyes landed on the shelf near the bed. A soft green glow pulsed quietly. He walked over. [ACADEMIC PANEL SYNCED — ETHAN NOCTURNE] [INSTRUCTOR PREFERENCES: UNDER REVIEW] [SPECIAL MENTORSHIP: PENDING ASSIGNMENT] He tapped the screen gently. It dimmed. No alerts. No names. Just the quiet confirmation that someone—somewhere had already moved to make sure his stay over here is as efficient and productive as possible. And with his name now in the system, something bigger had started shifting. He didn’t say anything. But he smiled. Not wide. Just a small curve at the edge of his lips as he stepped back out into the hallway. He checked on the twins again—half out of habit, half because something inside him didn’t want to be alone. Not tonight. Maybe it was the quiet. Perhaps it was the way everything felt connected without explanation. But part of him wanted to share it with someone. Far above the East Wing, past the spires and domes, behind the rings and lightrails, another tower stood. Hidden behind a distortion field. Invisible to the naked eye. Shielded from most scans. It was embedded into the central structure like a remnant of an older era. The kind of place no one mentions unless they’re supposed to be there. Students didn’t know about it. Faculty rarely accessed it. Even if they saw the shimmer in the sky, they assumed it was part of the old defense code—something built in the legacy and long forgotten. But it wasn’t old. It was active. Inside, the air held a silence not of neglect, but of height. The kind of silence found in sealed towers or places above noise. The Dean stood on the balcony, one hand resting on the railing. She wore no ceremonial robes—just a clean, slate-blue coat, fastened at the collar. A single silver insignia marked her rank. No frills. No need. A soft chime sounded in her hand. She looked down at the tablet. A new file had opened. Name: Ethan Nocturne Status: Docked — East Wing Housing: Confirmed System Sync: Complete Special Flag: Lilith Nocturne — Verified Legacy Seal Her eyes paused on the last line. She read it twice. Then, without turning, she spoke. Behind her, a maid poured tea into a ceramic cup. She didn’t wear anything flashy—just a simple uniform woven from smart-fabric, lined with micro-shields and node fibers. The kind of uniform designed for mobility, not for show. "You saw?" the maid asked. The Dean nodded, still looking out the window. "He’s arrived." The maid placed the kettle back down, folding her hands. "So have the twins." The Dean didn’t reply immediately. She took the cup and sipped once. Through the distortion field, she could see the distant dorms, floating platforms, and activity centers slowly preparing for orientation. Students were arriving by the thousands. But only one had triggered the legacy seal. "He’s younger than I expected," the maid said. The Dean’s voice was quiet. "But steady." The maid gave a faint nod. "She didn’t choose wrong." "No." A breeze came through the upper arch, stirring the ends of the maid’s braid. She didn’t flinch. The tablet refreshed again. A secondary log appeared. East Wing: motion detection, console interaction, sleep-cycle sync, and environmental stabilization. Just surface metrics. Nothing invasive. But thorough. It showed one thing clearly. He wasn’t just moving around. He was assessing. Measuring. Letting the room reveal itself. The maid noticed the screen too. "Do you think he knows?" The Dean didn’t answer immediately. Then: "Not fully." "But he will?" "When it matters." Another small alert blinked—Mentorship: Pending Assignment. The maid’s eyes flicked toward it. "Still hiding the mentor pairing?" "For now." The Dean scrolled down. Other names were on the table—sons and daughters of faction leaders. Students backed by the military or guilds. Several have clear pathways into specialized fields. But none with a verified seal. None that Lilith had vouched for. None with his profile. Eventually, the others would start asking questions. But none would act before the Dean moved. And the Dean wouldn’t move... not yet. Not until the second flag appeared. The real one. She tapped the tablet once. It dimmed. She turned from the balcony. "No need to interfere," she said. "He’s placed." The maid stood. Her movements smooth. "Orientation?" "I’ll lead the first hour." The maid blinked. "You haven’t led in years." "I know." A soft smile flickered across the maid’s face. She didn’t press further. "I’ll prepare the hall." The Dean gave a small nod. They walked down the corridor together, the flickering torch-lights on the walls casting soft shadows against the old banners that lined the path—symbols from the time before the Fall. Some were faded. Some pristine. But all of them were waiting. Just like the world. Waiting for someone to shake it awake again.

Chapter 251: The Maid

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