Chapter 231: Switched up
"Still," he said finally, "they believe it because it fits. You’ve been growing faster than anyone here. Too fast. People fear what they don’t understand."
Jae’s eyes snapped up, sharp and cold. "And you?"
For a heartbeat, the table was still. Elise’s fork hovered in the air. Tirel’s flames flickered hotter.
Byun held Jae’s gaze, unflinching. "I don’t fear you," he said at last, though his voice was quieter now. "But I know how this place works."
The words hung between them, more unsettling for their honesty than for their bite.
Jae leaned back, the smirk gone from his lips. He didn’t answer. The weight of the hall pressed down on him, a thousand half-hidden glances, a thousand whispers all aimed his way. The food in his mouth tasted like ash.
Before he could speak, the doors to the hall opened with a bang. Mrs. Lira strode in, her robes sweeping behind her. Her sharp eyes scanned the room at once, narrowing as they caught the clusters of whispering students. She didn’t need to ask what the talk was about; the tension in the air told her enough.
Her gaze landed on Jae. For a fraction of a second, something flickered there—worry, warning, maybe both.
Classes that day were no easier.
The morning whispers had not faded. If anything, they had sharpened by the time Jae stepped into the lecture hall. The room was buzzing, filled with the scrape of chairs and the low hum of voices, but as soon as he crossed the threshold, the shift was obvious.
The eyes that had once followed him with curiosity or quiet admiration now looked at him with suspicion, even open hostility. A few students went still when he passed, as though his presence itself was dangerous. Others made a show of moving their books and satchels closer, sliding them across desks so he would have no place to sit beside them.
He took a seat near the middle, not acknowledging their stares. His tray from breakfast still sat heavy in his stomach, the bread and stew a dull weight he couldn’t shake.
When Mrs. Lira entered and began setting her notes on the desk, the low chatter dulled but didn’t vanish. At the back of the hall, a noble boy leaned toward his friends, his voice pitched just loud enough to carry.
"Careful," he drawled, his smirk broad. "Or the farmboy might slit your throat while you’re not looking."
Laughter rippled across the row, not loud but sharp, the kind that burrowed under the skin.
Elise was on her feet in an instant. Her eyes blazed, and her voice rang clear. "Say that again!"
The boy leaned back in his chair, looking pleased at her reaction. "What? You’re defending him? Makes sense. I hear assassins always keep pretty faces to hide behind."
Gasps and murmurs rolled through the room. A few students looked at Jae to see if he’d rise, if the rumor had finally been pushed far enough to crack his calm.
He didn’t move.
Jae sat stiffly, his hand gripping the edge of his desk until his knuckles whitened. His jaw worked, but no words came out. He wanted to stand, to let the Dragonfire blade ignite and silence every smirk, but he forced the urge down. That was exactly what they wanted—proof that he was reckless, violent, dangerous.
"Enough!" Mrs. Lira’s voice snapped like a whip. She didn’t even look up from her desk, but her tone cut across the room. "If I hear one more word about throats or assassins, you’ll all be spending the week scrubbing lecture benches until your hands bleed. Do I make myself clear?"
The boy smirked but shut his mouth. His eyes, though, still glittered with malice.
The lesson went on, though the words seemed to drift past Jae like smoke. He stared at the diagrams Mrs. Lira chalked onto the board, but the whispers behind him were louder than her voice. "Assassin," someone mouthed when he glanced back. "Peasant," another said, just under their breath.
By the time the bell rang for break, his patience had worn thin. He walked out quickly, only to have Elise corner him in the corridor.
"Why didn’t you say anything?" she demanded. Her cheeks were flushed, her voice trembling not from fear but from anger. "You let him slander you in front of everyone!"
Jae leaned back against the wall, exhaling slowly. He rubbed a hand through his blonde hair, the familiar gesture more weary than amused. "If I rise to every insult, I’ll just prove them right. You saw how they looked at me. They’ve already made up their minds."
Elise’s fists clenched at her sides, her dark hair falling into her face. "It’s not fair."
"It’s never been fair," he said softly. His tone was almost casual, but the shadow in his red eyes betrayed the weight pressing on him.
xxxx
The afternoon brought no relief.
Practical class was held in the training yard, where students were grouped into teams and sent against conjured beasts. Normally, this was the part of the day Jae looked forward to—fighting was the one thing that made sense. But even here, the whispers clung.
Before the match began, the instructor looked straight at him. His voice was sharp, almost mocking. "Restrain yourself, boy. We don’t need another ’incident.’"
The word dug into Jae’s chest like a blade. Incident. As though he had already committed some crime, as though the rumor were fact. He froze, his hands curling into fists at his sides. Around him, chuckles slipped from the lips of his classmates. "Assassin," someone whispered again. "Watch him."
The beasts materialized—hulking forms of fur and claws, conjured from mana to test their skill. Jae’s team moved into position. Elise’s face was tight with focus, her mana already weaving into precise strikes. Tirel’s flames flickered hot and sharp, more ferocious than usual. Byun’s shadows spread low along the ground, curling like dark smoke to shield their flanks.
Jae joined them, Dragonfire blade springing to life in his hand with a hiss of heat. He struck with his usual precision, but the burn in his chest lingered, distracting him from the rhythm of battle.