The rain had stopped by the time Ludger stepped out of the lecture hall, his long black coat swaying with each unhurried step. He didn’t look back at the students who still lingered by the door, whispering behind their hands about the new professor with the unsettling blue eyes and the voice that never rose above a calm, measured tone.
He had already memorized their faces, their names, their tells.
The corridor stretched ahead, empty now, lit by the cold glow of lights. His boots echoed against the stone floor. For a moment, the man paused by the tall arched window. Outside, the academy grounds lay quiet under a bruised twilight sky. Somewhere in the shadows between the old oak trees, a raven watched him back.
Ludger exhaled slowly. His fingers brushed the cuff of his sleeve. Another long night ahead.
He resumed walking with expression unchanged. But behind those sharp and charismatic eyes, a familiar weight pressed against his ribs — the quiet, constant hum of a man who had learned long ago that safety was just another name for a trap that hadn't sprung yet.
