“What have you done?! What have you done?!” Constans wailed, tears welling in his eyes as he shook Morris by the collar. “Explain yourself—right now—or you’ll pay for this…”

“Hold on, Constans,” Jaelman said, pinching the bridge of his nose. He almost wished he could pretend not to know his dear friend—this was utterly unbecoming. Losing temper at a student? Unthinkable. “It can’t be his fault. Arcanum Crystals aren’t that fragile.”

“Tch.” Hearing Jaelman defend Morris, Constans reluctantly let go, shooting him a sharp glare. “Fine. I’ll blame the crystal’s age. No blame on you this time.”

“Um… esteemed sirs?” The janitor quietly raised a hand. “This student, Morris… is actually a high-tier Law Aspect Sorcerer.”

A stunned silence fell—then erupted into chaos.

“Lawform Tier?!” A student gaped at Morris, his peer. “He looks just like me—why am I still an apprentice?!”

“Noble scion in disguise? Wearing plain clothes to seem younger?” Students felt betrayed. Young nobles’ faces darkened with jealousy, minds racing: *What’s his true background?*

Morris, center of all eyes, scratched his head. *Can’t you just see me as a random genius passerby? Must every prodigy bleed noble blood? Don’t they know Pope Morris’s family was just a county landlord?* Honestly, these nobles’ perspectives were painfully narrow.

Professor Crane froze. *If true… Morris should’ve been top-priority since enrollment. And me—trying to suppress him? One word to the dean, and I’m ruined…*

“You little…” Constans gripped Morris’s shoulders, forcing eye contact. He fought calmness, but excitement glittered in his gaze. “Are you truly a Law Aspect Sorcerer?”

“Mm-hmm!” Morris nodded fast. “Want my license? Stamped personally by the Pope!”

“No need,” Jaelman stepped closer, suspicion flickering—but mostly relief. “If you *are* Law Aspect, we’ll table the compensation… for now.”

*You were defending me seconds ago,* Morris thought, *and still calculating damages?*

Jaelman pulled another Arcanum Crystal from his robe pocket. Morris noted its quality: Constans’s was worth ~50k gold; this barely scraped 100k. Thanks to Alex dragging him to auctions, Morris knew the market cold.

“Use this,” Jaelman smiled warmly, handing it over. “Student Morris—show us your power.”

Morris accepted it. *Don’t reveal my true tier.* He silently tamped down the surging Arcanum energy. The crystal glowed softly. Jaelman watched the light spread—his smile fading to indifference.

The glow meant only *apprentice* tier.

Morris froze. *Oops. Suppressed too hard!*

“Apprentice tier?” Constans frowned. “What’s happening?”

The janitor blinked in confusion—then felt Professor Crane’s glare, sharp enough to flay skin.

*Wasted worry,* Crane thought, relaxing. *Expel him? Or add fraud charges and ruin his life…?*

KABOOM!!!!!!

White powder burst outward. Everyone instinctively shielded themselves with Arcanum—except Crane, lost in scheming. Fresh cuts bloomed on his face.

“You alright, Professor?” the janitor asked.

“F-fine…” Crane covered his face, crouching low. “Just… leave me.”

No one cared. All eyes locked on Morris. Constans stared at the shards, stunned—then lunged, grabbing Morris’s collar. “ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND GOLD COINS!!!”

Morris steadied himself, raising a finger. *Yeah, I rushed the energy boost and blew it again…* But he met Constans’s eyes deadpan: “N-not my fault.”

“HOW IS IT NOT?!” Constans shrieked.

“Wait, Constans.” Jaelman approached, face unreadable. “He used Arcanum energy just now.”

Before the “Emperor’s New Clothes,” all deceit lay bare. Jaelman held zero doubt.

“The sorcerer is real. Tier? Debatable.” Jaelman bowed his head, scribbling on paper. “Bought for 100k… performance above average… two-year use… market value rose… factoring wear…”

*Yup,* Morris thought, *vice dean’s a schemer.*

“150k. With Constans’s share: 230k total.” Jaelman’s tone was final.

“Since when does a vice dean shake down students?!” Morris blurted.

“Last chance.” Constans produced a third crystal, voice low. “Fail again—we brand you a spy. Dungeon first. Then sell you to Fei Province to pick cotton till the debt’s paid.”

What a dark deal.

Morris took the crystal, breath held. *Hiding power is harder than unleashing it.* This time, the glow stabilized. Constans studied it, nodded slowly. “Confirmed. Lawform Tier.”

Jaelman nodded too—but unease coiled inside. *Why this disappointment? He’s a rare genius… yet I want him gone?*

Morris’s gaze darted. He scratched his head. “Uh… so… am I done?”

“Go. Now.” Constans waved him off, unable to look another second. “Don’t let me see you on campus again.”

Morris slumped into his seat, exhaling. *Two explosions… rusty at suppression.* He glanced at Sherlock—why so quiet? Then he saw it: a faint blush on her face. Her tongue nervously swirled; white vapor puffed from her lips. “Morris… hurry… save me…”

Unnoticed, the distance between them had passed ten meters.

Morris froze. No time for regret—the real crisis was here.

In the crowded exam hall, the Blood Pact silently activated.