A little while after Grey had made his cloak-flap exit, just as I was beginning to feel less like roadkill and more like a human being, familiar faces showed up at the infirmary door.

  Finn barged in first, eyes practically twinkling with mischief.

  “Behold! A magical elixir of healing!” he proclaimed with the solemnity of someone presenting the Holy Grail. “Celery juice, by the way. Very good for you. They say it helps restore your magical reserves — or at least it’s refreshing.”

  He pulled a suspiciously green cup from behind his back and handed it to me like it was a priceless treasure.

  I gave it a wary glance and tried to look thankful, even though the stuff inside looked like it had been scooped from the bottom of a swamp.

  Elvira followed right behind, holding a dainty little box covered in elegant swirls.

  “And I brought you something actually edible,” she said, winking. “Chocolate truffles. Not as healthy, maybe, but infinitely better for your mood.”

  I smiled and accepted the box, a warm little wave of gratitude sweeping through me. Sure, the Academy was a death trap in fancy robes — but at least not everyone here wanted to murder me. Some even brought snacks.

  We sat around chatting, Finn telling exaggerated horror stories about lab zombies and cursed test tubes. I sipped the celery potion in tiny, suspicious gulps. After a few minutes, I even stopped gagging. Progress.

  Then the door creaked open.

  A familiar silhouette stood in the doorway.

  Drake Schafer.

  He took one look inside — saw Elvira, saw Finn — and immediately pulled a reverse-hero move. One glare, one turn, and he was gone, cloak and all.

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  We all blinked after him.

  “What was that?” Finn furrowed his brows.

  “Seriously,” Elvira added, still staring at the empty doorway. “He doesn’t do “random visits.” That was weird. Suspiciously weird.”

  I shrugged, baffled myself, but figured it wasn’t worth the brain cells.

  “Maybe he was just doing a wellness check? You know, “Still alive, succubus?” and all that? Because he hit on me today. Offered sex. Apparently because he thought I was a succubus..”

  Elvira blinked.

  “Wait,” she said slowly. “He… approached you? On his own?”

  Finn and Elvira exchanged one of those looks. The kind that says this just went from odd to statistically impossible.

  “That’s… even weirder,” Elvira muttered. “I’ve never seen him with a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend. Or, frankly, with anyone. Drake’s more of a… solitary menace.”

  “Lonely apocalypse,” Finn supplied helpfully.

  “Okay,” I said, holding up a hand. “Spill. What exactly should I know about him? I’ve already gathered he’s a destruction mage, and for some reason everyone treats him like an unexploded bomb with legs.”

  “Oh, you’ve noticed that?” Finn said. “Good instincts.”

  He leaned back, lowering his voice like we were about to summon him by accident.

  “He’s from another faculty, but trust me, everyone’s heard about Drake Schafer. Half year ago when he came, people tried to bully him. Big mistake.”

  “How big?” I asked cautiously.

  “Very,” Finn said cheerfully. “The kind that ends in official duels. And the people who challenged him are very dead now. And if they didn’t want to duel him lawfully,” Finn continued, “well. Accidents happened.”

  I frowned. “Accidents.”

  “Tragic, mysterious, completely unavoidable accidents,” Finn nodded. “Training halls collapsing during practice. Defensive wards failing at extremely inconvenient moments. One guy’s familiar exploded.”

  “Exploded,” I repeated.

  “Still under investigation,” Elvira said solemnly. “Which usually means everyone involved is pretending not to know anything.”

  I stared at them.

  “So,” I said slowly, “the antisocial destruction mage with a body count decided to flirt with me.”

  “Yes,” she said. “That is… concerning.”

  Finn smiled, far too brightly.

  “On the bright side,” he said, “if Drake Schafer is very interested in you, odds are no one else will try to kill you this week.”

  I paused.

  “…That was meant to be comforting, wasn’t it?”

  “Extremely,” Finn said.

  “I don’t know how comforting that’s supposed to be.

  My friends still don’t know I’m tethered to our favourite necromancy dean.

  And honestly, that little detail weighs heavier on me than any surprise visits from a possibly murderous crush.

  “Guys,” I said, voice low, eyes on the blanket. “There’s something I need to tell you. It’s about Professor Grey… and, well, me.”

  Finn and Elvira both fell silent, staring at me like I’d just announced I was secretly a pineapple. I took a deep breath — the kind that comes before either a confession or a panic attack.