Instructor Brey’s eyes remained fixed on Noah.
The disgust on his face did not fade.
If anything, it deepened.
He hissed again, the sound sharp and unpleasant, before straightening his back slightly and tightening his grip around the cane.
"Noah Whiteheart," he said, his voice ringing clearly through the corridor. "For disrupting the peace of the academy..."
He paused for a brief mont.
Not because he needed to think.
But because he wanted every single student present to hear what ca next.
"I hereby suspend you for one week!"
The words landed heavily, leaving no room for argunt.
Noah’s eyes widened in shock.
’One week?!’ he thought. ’I’m clearly not at fault here!’
His gaze flickered instinctively toward Lloyd.
Lloyd was still standing there.
His hand—though lowered a little—remained partially outstretched. His fingers were still faintly tense, as if they had only just released the spell monts ago.
Anyone with eyes could see it.
Anyone with common sense could piece it together.
The injured boy was behind Noah.
The spell had co from Lloyd’s direction.
The residue of magic still lingered faintly in the air around him.
It was obvious, painfully bvious.
And yet—
The punishnt had fallen on him.
Noah’s jaw tightened.
It was also common knowledge throughout the academy that he was the weakest magus in the entire student body.
The one who struggled the most during practical lessons.
The one who couldn’t even properly stabilize a basic mana flow without faltering.
There were jokes about it.
So even said he couldn’t use his magic to hurt a fly.
And now—
They were claiming he had sohow disrupted the peace with enough force to injure another student?
The logic didn’t even align.
His teeth gnashed together quietly.
’But it doesn’t matter...’
His fingers curled at his sides.
’He’s always been looking for an excuse to punish .’
Instructor Brey had never needed solid evidence before.
And he certainly didn’t need it now.
He was not just any instructor.
He was a high instructor within the academy.
His authority stretched far beyond that of ordinary teachers. He oversaw multiple classes. Supervised disciplinary matters. Had direct influence over training schedules and evaluations.
He did not need the principal’s permission to punish students.
He did not need approval to issue suspensions.
Within the academy walls, his word carried weight.
And once spoken—
It was rarely overturned.
The students around them reacted almost instantly.
A ripple of laughter broke out.
So students even clapped softly in mock celebration.
"Serves him right."
"Took long enough."
"A whole week? That’s generous."
Voices overlapped, no longer cautious now that authority had spoken.
They chattered excitedly among themselves.
"This is good."
"Finally, we’ll have so peace."
"At least we won’t have to see his face for a week."
The mood had shifted entirely.
What had been tension monts ago was now amusent.
Several students didn’t even bother lowering their voices.
"Trash like that shouldn’t even be here."
"Zero talent and still walking around like he belongs."
"I’ve always hated how soone like him gets to share the sa academy grounds as us."
Disgust laced their tones.
So shook their heads as if deeply offended by his re presence.
Others looked at him with open contempt.
As though his suspension was not just deserved—
But long overdue.
Noah stood there in the center of it all, his expression remaining still.
But inside—
His teeth pressed harder together.
He had just been suspended for one week all because an instructor didn’t like him.
Lloyd let out a low chuckle, the sound thick with satisfaction as he folded his arms across his chest.
His shoulders relaxed now that the decision had been made, and the tension that had been lingering around him seed to lt into smug amusent.
"Serves you right," he said, tilting his head slightly as he looked at Noah with open mockery.
There was no attempt to lower his voice, no effort to hide the pleasure he took in the situation. If anything, he wanted Noah to hear every ounce of it.
Rad and Drey, standing on either side of Lloyd, exchanged brief, awkward glances.
Rad shifted his weight from one foot to the other and gave a small nod, as though agreeing was the only safe response.
Drey swallowed faintly before nodding as well, though his eyes flickered toward Noah for a second longer than necessary.
Both of them still felt weirded out by the whole situation and even though Noah was now suspended for one week, their worries hadn’t settled.
Noah remained where he was, right at the center of the hallway, as if the entire scene had been arranged with him as its focal point.
His jaw tightened slowly.
He could feel his teeth grinding together as he tried to steady himself. This was not the first ti sothing like this had happened. He had been singled out before. He had been humiliated before. He had stood alone while others pointed fingers before. None of this was new.
So why did it still irritate him this much?
’It’s not even the first ti... so why does it still feel so annoying?’ he thought, his nails pressing lightly into his palm.
He hated that it still bothered him. Hated that even after telling himself repeatedly that their opinions did not matter, the sting refused to dull completely.
The laughter scraped against his patience, and the smug expressions around him made it worse.
Instructor Brey scoffed sharply, clearly displeased that Noah had not moved yet.
He tapped the tip of his cane against the floor with deliberate emphasis and looked down at him with open disdain.
"What are you still standing for?" he asked mockingly, his tone dripping with contempt. "Leave this mont."
The phrasing was awkward, but the intent was crystal clear. Brey did not want him there. He had never wanted him there.
The instructor’s eyes hardened further as he added, "You were never ant to be here in the first place, trash magus."
The insult landed heavily, spoken not in anger but in cold certainty. It was clear that he genuinely believed Noah’s presence within the academy was a mistake that had yet to be corrected.
Noah’s fingers tightened around the handle of his bag. The fabric bunched beneath his grip as he forced himself not to react outwardly.
His breathing remained steady, though a faint tension pulsed beneath the surface.
"Fine," he muttered.
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