The Damien Estate loomed like a brooding shadow at the edge of the first peak.
Unlike ordinary students, who had to live in quarters, he had the privilege of having his own mansion.
Right now, the mansion's high iron gates were open. It was just enough to let in the lone figure that approached under the grey light of dusk.
Ben.
His steps were firm, his expression carefully neutral, but behind his eyes burned a storm. He stopped before the towering double doors of the mansion and knocked once—loud and deliberate.
Soon, the door creaked open.
A man stood there—tall, sharp-featured, and dressed in a black butler uniform so immaculate it seemed part of his skin.
His eyes, cold and calculating, looked Ben over with a gaze that stripped away pretense.
"Yes?" The servant's tone was chilly, almost disdainful.
Ben dipped his head in a polite nod. "I'm here to inquire about someone. A friend who's gone missing."
The servant raised a brow. "We're not the academy patrol."
