The hallway of the Occult Research Club fell silent when Riser Phenex finally departed, escorted by two demons of his house.

  The echo of his footsteps carried no urgency.

  It didn’t need to.

  He walked with the ease of someone born believing that, sooner or later, the world always rearranged itself in his favor.

  But he did not leave entirely.

  A few meters from the exit, Riser stopped.

  Not out of doubt.

  Not out of caution.

  Out of curiosity.

  He turned his head slightly, as if something—a brush, a minimal pressure—had disturbed the edge of his perception.

  One of the escorts tensed immediately.

  “Lord Riser…?”

  The Phenex raised a hand, cutting the question short before it could fully form. The gesture was elegant, almost lazy.

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  His golden eyes scanned the empty hallway. Then the ceiling. Then… nothing in particular.

  Or so it seemed.

  The air trembled.

  Not visibly. Not as a change in temperature.

  It was an irregularity—a minute imperfection in the ambient mana flow. Something so subtle that no human—and not even most demons—would have noticed it.

  But Riser did.

  To him, it was like an ember out of place in a perfectly controlled bonfire.

  His eyes narrowed.

  “Interesting…”

  The escort swallowed.

  “Is something wrong, my lord?”

  Riser stepped forward and extended two fingers toward the empty space, touching nothing.

  The air hesitated.

  A microscopic flicker.

  A barely perceptible blue flash recoiled, like a reflection startled by light.

  Riser smiled.

  “This territory has always been exemplary,” he murmured. “House Sitri maintains it like a clock—precise, clean… obedient.”

  His gaze drifted briefly toward the direction of the Student Council building.

  “But now,” he continued, “it breathes like something that doesn’t quite belong.”

  “Doesn’t belong… my lord?” the escort asked carefully.

  Riser tilted his head, amused.

  “It’s not a threat,” he clarified. “At least, not yet.”

  It’s simply… a note out of tune in a familiar melody.

  He adjusted his white jacket with immaculate care and resumed walking, as if the interruption had never happened.

  Behind him, the wall trembled once more.

  A blue pulse.

  Weak.

  Brief.

  Like a heartbeat that did not belong to that plane.

  It lasted less than a second.

  No one else saw it.

  Riser did not turn back.

  But the smile that formed on his face was no longer that of a satisfied noble.

  It was the smile of someone who had just discovered a mystery—

  And who had decided, with absolute certainty, to dismantle it… piece by piece.