A sleek, jet-black luxury car with a distinctly modern silhouette came to a smooth halt not far from the grand gate of Hazandeen International High School.

The tinted window descended gradually, revealing the delicate face of a young woman dressed in modest, semi-concealing attire—as if deliberately hiding her presence.

Her eyes were sharp, cold even, yet her lips curved into a soft and refined smile—a mesmerizing contrast of elegance and authority rarely found in someone of her age.

Yura Atenri.

She had arrived—with Devy in tow.

Her expression carried a trace of curiosity mixed with unease. As she leaned slightly forward, the school's front yard became clearly visible through the car's vantage point.

"Huh? Why are there so many police officers here?" she murmured softly, her tone uncertain.

Several large vehicles bearing the insignia of the national police were lined up neatly in the school's parking area.

Officers moved around in alert formation, some communicating through their earpieces.

A few students were visible in the background—crowded behind the caution lines, whispering restlessly.

From the driver's seat, Devy, dressed casually in a lighter-toned outfit, leaned forward slightly.

"Ah... perhaps you've forgotten, Miss. There was that explosion incident a while back—it went viral. It seems they're still conducting an in-depth investigation," she explained calmly, though her voice carried a note of caution.

"Right... now that you mention it. Rina and Karen did talk about that before," Yura replied swiftly.

Her eyes scanned more carefully, and she soon recognized a familiar figure—Prabowo, the head of the Special Bureau for Anti-Terrorism—someone she had once encountered at a café.

That meant the officers stationed here were indeed part of the same division handling the previous explosion case.

She reached for her phone, intent on calling Rina or Karen, but before she could dial, two more police cars arrived at the scene.

"Wait—more police? These are regular officers, right? Could there be another case happening?" Yura asked, suspicion flickering in her tone.

Devy narrowed her eyes, watching the new arrivals.

"It appears so, Miss Yura. Should I check it?"

Yura shook her head decisively.

"No. I'll try contacting Rina and Karen first. They haven't messaged me at all, which probably means Al hasn't gone home yet."

Devy gave a brief nod in acknowledgment.

Yura pressed Rina's number and waited.

One dial tone. Two. Three.

No answer.

She tried again. Still nothing.

Her expression tightened.

"Why isn't she answering…?"

Switching quickly, she called Karen next.

The result was the same—silence.

Devy frowned, visibly puzzled.

"That's unusual. They usually pick up your calls right away. Do you think they're busy with something urgent?"

"I don't know," Yura muttered, confusion creeping into her voice.

"Rina and Karen would never ignore my call—especially around dismissal hour. Don't tell me they're somehow involved with those police officers."

Her sharp gaze shifted toward Devy. She hesitated for a moment before spoke.

"Devy, can you…"

Devy understood instantly and nodded.

"Yes."

Without another word, Devy clasped her hands together and closed her eyes. A faint bluish-white glow began to emanate from her body, converging around her palms.

Elemental Magic – Ice Type: Ice Eye.

Before her, a small orb of ice materialized and quickly shaped itself into a crystalline eye—miniature, glimmering, with a tiny blue core that pulsed gently like a living pupil. Devy's perception instantly linked with the construct.

With a subtle wave of her hand, she propelled the magical eye forward, guiding it through the air as it drifted toward the school grounds, intending to infiltrate the interior and relay everything it saw back to her.

But then—

BLAST!

The spell detonated violently, sending a brief surge of frost scattering into the air.

"A Magical Barrier!" Devy gasped, startled.

"What happened, Devy?" Yura's voice spiked with alarm.

Devy took a deep breath, sharpening her senses. Though faint, she could perceive a vast dome-like layer enveloping the entire area.

"The school… it's surrounded by a large-scale magical barrier. And it's powerful. Penetrating it through magic seems nearly impossible," she reported gravely.

"Seriously?!" Yura asked, skeptical yet anxious.

Devy nodded.

"Someone strong must have placed it. But it's not surprising—after an explosion like that, places heavy with panic and fear tend to attract spiritual activity. A barrier helps suppress that."

"Ah… I see," Yura murmured, exhaling softly while gazing at the campus. "So that means we'll only know what's going on… if we actually go in?"

Devy inclined her head slightly.

Yura sighed again, this time more out of frustration than worry, gripping her phone tightly as though resisting the urge to throw it.

"This is all because those two won't pick up my call. Ugh…"

Devy stayed quiet, letting her vent. Internally, though, she was impressed—the scale and strength of this barrier were far beyond what most institutions could manage.

Could this be Al's doing? She pondered silently. Most likely. For someone like him, this would be nothing difficult.

Her eyes narrowed slightly in thought.

A dual-energy user… capable of using both Entra and Vita. Fascinating.

A few moments later, Yura finally calmed down, slumping back lazily into her seat.

"Huff… I guess we'll just wait here, then. This is the only exit, right?"

"There are a few more, but for students, this one's the main gate. Taking a detour would be troublesome—especially since Al's heading back to the Virellano residence," Devy explained.

"Right… that makes sense," Yura replied, her tone softening.

She turned her gaze upward toward the blazing sky. The afternoon heat scorched the world outside—starkly contrasting with the turbulent mix of unease swirling in her chest.

"I don't know why, Devy… but I have a really bad feeling about this," she whispered. "I just hope everyone's alright."

Devy simply nodded, her expression calm yet alert, trying to reassure her mistress.

And so, beneath the sweltering daylight, the two remained in their car—silent observers, standing watch from a distance.

---

At almost the exact same time—or, more precisely, moments after the police vehicles had arrived—everyone was finally gathered again inside the principal's office.

The room felt far too small to contain the clash of pride, authority, and ego colliding within it.

Three police officers stood before a grand mahogany desk.

One middle-aged man whose face bore the weight of long service and quiet fatigue.

One young officer with sharp eyes and a newly earned sense of authority.

And one woman with her hair neatly tied, her piercing gaze constantly sweeping the room with analytical precision.

The atmosphere inside was dense—so heavy that even a breath seemed to echo tension.

The principal sat stiffly in his chair, his expression composed but his fingers drummed rhythmically on the desk—an unintentional rhythm of unease trying to masquerade as calm.

Across from him, three fathers from elite families sat with the demeanor of men already convinced of their own righteousness, as if the police presence here was nothing more than a formality before their 'victory' was announced.

"So… who exactly reported this incident?" the middle-aged officer's voice cut through the air—steady, restrained, and tinged with the fatigue of someone who had seen far too many versions of the same story.

Al raised his hand casually, his movements deliberate yet languid, like someone who couldn't be bothered to dramatize the moment.

"That would be me, sir," he replied, his tone as flat as his expression.

"These people claimed to have evidence that I assaulted the sons of these two gentlemen." He gestured toward Darius and Kugo.

The three officers exchanged quick glances—brief, but enough to convey shared surprise.

The young one furrowed his brows, his gaze sweeping Al from head to toe with mild disbelief.

"Wait—you reported yourself?" He couldn't tell if he should be impressed… or suspicious.

Al looked at him for a heartbeat, then gave a half-shrug.

"I just don't like unnecessary drama. Isn't it better if we let the proper authorities handle it directly?"

The room fell into sudden silence.

The principal stiffened, concern flashing in his eyes. He still remembered how Kugo had almost attacked Al earlier—but Al had yet to even mention that incident.

Meanwhile, Darius and Kugo exchanged whispers, clearly offended by Al's indifference, yet strangely composed—as if they still had something up their sleeves.

Al noticed. His gaze sharpened slightly.

Do they still have another card to play? he thought.

Sebastian, standing just behind Al, also found their composure odd. He wanted to say something—to warn or reassure Al—but decided to wait.

The female officer, who had been silently observing while taking quick, meticulous notes, finally lifted her eyes again.

Her gaze moved between Al, studying microexpressions, dissecting body language—yet what she saw in Al was an unsettling serenity, a stillness that didn't belong to someone his age.

Then her attention shifted toward the three elite fathers. Their confident restraint only added to the puzzle. This case… wasn't a simple one.

The senior officer exhaled softly.

"Alright then. Let's begin with the school's version of events."

The principal stood, wearing a forced smile that didn't reach his eyes. His tone was polite, professional—every sentence carefully chosen, every word measured to sound neutral. Yet beneath that facade, the bias was palpable.

Beside Al, Sebastian listened intently, his gaze narrowing slightly every time the principal phrased something that subtly painted Al as the aggressor without ever saying it outright.

Outside the office, faint murmurs began to ripple through the hallway. Footsteps. Whispers. The rhythmic thud of hearts stirred by curiosity. Students had started gathering in the corridor, forming small clusters against the wall.

Some pressed their ears to the thin wooden panels, straining to catch fragments of the conversation inside—words like 'police', 'assault', and the names Rudi and Jogo floated through.

Among the crowd stood Rina, Karen, and Dila, their expressions tense as they tried to listen in.

Even Idham, who had some idea of what had happened inside that room, stood nearby, stunned that things had escalated this far. His only thought was a quiet prayer—that his father would be alright.

Rina squinted, trying to peek through the glass panels beside the door. Unfortunately, the windows were of the frosted kind—blurry and opaque. Even without curtains, they revealed only vague silhouettes moving behind the haze.

"Is Al okay?" Dila whispered, worry tinting her voice.

Rina shook her head slowly.

"I don't know. I can't see anything, and I can't hear much either."

Karen, who wasn't yet close to Al but had grown fond of him through Rina's concern, simply stood frozen, her lips parted in anxious silence.

Their quiet vigil didn't last long. Teachers and security personnel soon arrived, moving carefully to disperse the crowd. Their actions were gentle—hesitant even—because the students here were, after all, the children of powerful, influential families.

The atmosphere grew restless, tense, and chaotic in the hall.

And deep within that closed office, whatever was unfolding inside… was destined to become the next spark—fuel for the conflicts that had only just begun.

---

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