Malcolm drifted back to consciousness slowly, as if swimming up through layers of thick honey. First came sound—hushed voices, the soft rustling of fabric, the distant chime of bells marking time in the Academy. Then smell—herbs both familiar and strange, the sharp tang of medicinal alcohol, the faint sweetness of purification incense. Finally, light seeped through his closed eyelids, a gentle golden glow that could only be late afternoon sun.

  He tried to move and immediately regretted it. Pain shot through his head like lightning, drawing an involuntary groan from his lips.

  "He's waking," came a woman's voice—unfamiliar, professional, with the clipped precision of a Kagetsu medical practitioner.

  "About time," replied a gruff voice that Malcolm instantly recognized as Elder Mozu's. "Boy's been out since he collapsed at the evaluation."

  The evaluation. Memory came crashing back—the storage ring, the violent expansion of his soul space, Grandmaster Kaiven's penetrating gaze, the swirling essences hovering above his palm, and then... darkness.

  Malcolm forced his eyes open, blinking against the light. He was in a small room with whitewashed walls. Shelves lined with jars of herbs and medical supplies surrounded a narrow bed—the infirmary, he realized with a sinking feeling. Precisely where he hadn't wanted to end up.

  "Welcome back to the land of the living," Elder Mozu said from his perch on a stool beside the bed. The old man looked even more weathered than usual, worry etching deeper lines into his face. "You gave everyone quite the scare."

  "The evaluation," Malcolm croaked, his throat painfully dry. "What happened? Did I—"

  "Fail spectacularly?" the elder supplied with a raised eyebrow. "That depends on your definition of failure. You did manage to demonstrate essence manipulation that most third-years couldn't achieve, right before bleeding from your eyes and collapsing unconscious in front of seven of the Academy's most distinguished masters."

  "I bled from my—" Malcolm reached up to touch his face, finding it clean but tender.

  "Healer Ming's work," Elder Mozu explained, nodding toward a middle-aged woman in blue medical robes who stood mixing something in a mortar across the room. "She's quite skilled with internal bleeding cases. Good thing, too—your little storage ring experiment did more damage than either of us realized."

  Malcolm tried to sit up, wincing at the stabbing pain behind his eyes. "How long have I been out?"

  "Nearly twenty-four hours," the healer answered, approaching with a steaming cup. Her face was stern but not unkind, her movements efficient as she helped Malcolm into a sitting position. "You suffered significant channel disruption and essence depletion. Drink this."

  She pressed the cup into his hands. The liquid inside was a murky green, smelling of bitter herbs and something else—metallic and strangely familiar.

  "What's in it?" Malcolm asked, eyeing it suspiciously.

  "Herbs to restore your depleted essence, stabilize your disrupted channels, and ease the pain," she replied. "Also spider cricket legs and powdered lizard spleen, but mainly for flavor."

  Malcolm stared at her, horrified, until Elder Mozu snorted.

  "She's teasing you, boy. Kagetsu healers aren't quite as barbaric as Redoak rumors suggest."

  Healer Ming's stern face showed the barest hint of amusement. "Medical humor. A specialty of mine." She gestured to the cup. "It's primarily heart-leaf and goldthread with restoration catalysts. Nothing exotic, I assure you."

  Malcolm took a tentative sip and immediately grimaced at the bitter taste. "Tastes like the wrong end of a swamp toad."

  "And how would you know what that tastes like?" Elder Mozu asked with a raised eyebrow.

  "Figure of speech," Malcolm muttered, forcing himself to take another sip. "So... about the evaluation..."

  "The masters are deliberating," Elder Mozu said, his expression turning serious. "Your demonstration was... impressive, if incomplete. Even Grandmaster Kaiven seemed intrigued before you decided to faint dramatically at his feet."

  "I didn't exactly plan that part," Malcolm grumbled. The medicine was working quickly, the fog in his head clearing with each sip despite the awful taste. With greater clarity came greater concern. "Did anyone...I mean, do they know about...?"

  "Your voracious little void pool and its appetite for storage artifacts?" Elder Mozu finished, keeping his voice low. "Not specifically, no. They know something caused severe essence disruption and internal bleeding. Healer Ming diagnosed it as 'meditation channel strain from excessive spiritual domain expansion'—technically accurate, if incomplete."

  The healer, who had returned to her workbench, spoke without turning. "I reported what I observed, not what I speculated. The damage pattern matches overstrained meditation channels, regardless of what caused the strain."

  Malcolm shot the elder a questioning look. How much did she know?

  "Healer Ming is discreet," Elder Mozu assured him. "Comes with the profession."

  "You're hardly the first student to experiment unwisely with soul space expansion," the healer added, measuring powder into small paper packets. "Though your results were more... extreme than most."

  "Speaking of results," a new voice came from the doorway, precise and controlled—Master Seiran, who had entered without a sound. "The evaluation committee has reached a decision, Sinclair-san."

  Malcolm tensed, nearly spilling the medicinal tea in his lap. He'd been so focused on his physical condition that he'd almost forgotten the real stakes—his future at the Academy.

  Master Seiran approached the bed, his neutral expression giving away nothing. Elder Mozu rose to offer his stool, but the master remained standing, hands folded neatly within his sleeves.

  "Your theoretical framework, while unorthodox, was deemed adequately connected to established principles," Master Seiran began. "Your practical demonstration showed genuine skill in essence manipulation, particularly for a first-year student with your...unique background."

  Malcolm barely dared to breathe. Was this leading to good news or bad?

  "However," Master Seiran continued, "your collapse prevented completion of the evaluation protocol, leaving your demonstration technically incomplete. This has created a procedural complication."

  "Meaning what, exactly?" Malcolm asked, his heart sinking. Procedural complications sounded like a polite way of saying he'd failed.

  "Meaning, Sinclair-san, that you have been placed on conditional academic status," Master Seiran replied. "You will continue your studies with additional oversight and specific restrictions regarding independent experimentation."

  "So...I'm not expelled?" Malcolm clarified, relief washing over him.

  "Not at this time," Master Seiran said. "Though your methods remain a subject of significant debate among the faculty. Grandmaster Kaiven was particularly insistent on investigating your 'remarkably accelerated soul space development'—his exact words."

  Elder Mozu cleared his throat. "Did anyone happen to mention the obvious connection to Absorptive Nexus theory? As documented by Grandmaster Ito himself?"

  Master Seiran's gaze sharpened slightly. "That theory featured prominently in the deliberations. As did the question of how a first-year Western student with no formal background came to be familiar with such obscure historical texts."

  Malcolm swallowed hard. He couldn't mention that Master Seiran himself had provided the book without potentially getting him in trouble.

  "Resource management provides access to many discarded texts," Elder Mozu interjected smoothly. "Some students actually read them instead of merely hauling them to the archive bins."

  Master Seiran's expression remained carefully neutral, though Malcolm thought he detected the faintest hint of gratitude in his eyes. "Indeed. In any case, you will be permitted to continue your studies under the following conditions."

  He withdrew a small scroll from his sleeve and unrolled it with practiced precision.

  "First, all independent experimentation must be documented and approved in advance by your assigned academic mentor. Second, your soul space must be examined weekly to monitor its stability and development. Third, you will prepare a comprehensive theoretical document explaining your essence extraction and combination methods for the Academy archives."

  Malcolm nodded, relief mingling with apprehension. The conditions seemed manageable, if restrictive. At least he wasn't being expelled.

  "Additionally," Master Seiran continued, "your resource management duties will be modified to focus specifically on material reclamation rather than general waste handling. This is in recognition of your...apparent talents in that area."

  Malcolm couldn't believe his ears. Was that actually a promotion disguised as a restriction? He'd essentially been officially assigned to do exactly what he'd been doing secretly all along—reclaiming valuable materials from Academy waste.

  "Thank you, Master Seiran," he said, bowing his head respectfully. "I'll comply with all conditions."

  "See that you do," the master replied. "Your theoretical framework shows promise, but your methods remain concerning. Rapid soul space expansion without proper foundation is dangerously unstable."

  If you only knew HOW I expanded it, Malcolm thought, carefully keeping his expression neutral.

  "When can I return to classes?" he asked instead.

  "Healer Ming will determine your fitness for academic return," Master Seiran replied. "But not before the end of the week, at minimum. Your body requires recovery time."

  "Three days minimum," the healer corrected from across the room. "Provided there are no complications and he follows my treatment regimen precisely."

  Master Seiran inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment. "Three days, then. Your academic mentor will bring materials for you to review in the meantime." He turned to leave, then paused. "Oh, and Sinclair-san?"

  "Yes, Master?"

  "Several students have inquired about your condition. Apparently, word of your collapse has spread throughout the Academy. Your... innovative demonstration seems to have attracted considerable attention."

  With that cryptic remark, Master Seiran departed as silently as he had arrived.

  Elder Mozu chuckled once the master was gone. "Well, well. Looks like you're becoming quite the celebrity, boy."

  "Great," Malcolm muttered, slumping back against his pillows. "That's all I need—more people staring at the weird Western kid."

  "Don't be so negative," the elder admonished. "Attention can be useful when properly channeled. And you've managed to retain your position despite nearly killing yourself, which is no small feat."

  "The conditions seem reasonable," Malcolm admitted, "although weekly soul space examinations will be tricky. What if they notice the void pool's true nature?"

  "They'll see what they expect to see," Elder Mozu said confidently. "An unusual but not unprecedented soul space configuration. Unless you do something truly outrageous, like processing another storage artifact." He fixed Malcolm with a stern look. "Which you won't be doing. Ever again. Without supervision."

  "I promised, didn't I?" Malcolm said, raising his hands in surrender. "Besides, I don't need to anymore. Five meters is plenty of space for what I need to do."

  Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

  "Good. Now finish that medicine and get some rest. I'll check on you tomorrow."

  As Elder Mozu shuffled toward the door, he paused. "Oh, and you should know—that girl from Ashkari has been prowling around asking questions about you. The tall one with the too-direct manner."

  "Sorha?" Malcolm asked, surprised. "What kind of questions?"

  "The kind that suggest she knows more than she's letting on," the elder replied cryptically. "Be careful what you share, boy. Not everyone who shows interest has your best interests at heart."

  With that warning, he departed, leaving Malcolm alone with Healer Ming and his troubled thoughts.

  Three days in the infirmary felt like an eternity. Malcolm spent most of the first day drifting in and out of sleep, his body demanding rest to repair the damage from the storage ring processing. By the second day, he was alert enough to be thoroughly bored, confined to his bed except for brief supervised walks to maintain his strength.

  Riven Tairo visited briefly, bringing textbooks and scrolls with assignments marked by red tags. His manner was stiffly formal as he explained Malcolm's modified academic schedule, never once mentioning the dramatic evaluation or its aftermath. Malcolm got the distinct impression that Riven had been assigned this duty rather than volunteering for it.

  "Your documentation requirements remain in effect," the tall third-year said, placing a stack of blank notebooks beside the bed. "Master Seiran expects detailed process records for all extraction methods."

  "I'll get right on that," Malcolm replied, gesturing to the pile of scrolls. "As soon as I finish the sixteen other assignments you've brought."

  Riven's eyebrow arched slightly. "Academic expectations are not reduced due to infirmary confinement. If anything, the absence of practical work allows greater focus on theoretical development."

  "Yeah, that's me," Malcolm muttered. "Mr. Theoretical Development."

  Riven studied him for a moment, his expression unreadable. "Your demonstration was... unexpected," he said finally.

  Coming from Riven, this was practically effusive praise. Malcolm couldn't help but smile slightly. "Thanks, I think."

  "It wasn't a compliment," Riven clarified. "Merely an observation. The tripartite essence manifestation should not have been possible given your documented methodology."

  "Maybe my documentation needs improvement," Malcolm suggested innocently.

  "Indeed." Riven's tone made it clear he didn't believe that was the only issue. "I will return tomorrow to collect your completed assignments."

  After Riven left, Malcolm sighed and reached for the first scroll. At least the academic work would keep his mind occupied. The last thing he needed was more time to dwell on Elder Mozu's cryptic warning about Sorha, or the implications of Grandmaster Kaiven's interest in his "accelerated soul space development."

  He was halfway through a particularly dense text on elemental correspondences when a soft knock drew his attention to the door. Expecting Healer Ming with another round of bitter medicine, he was surprised to see Jirou standing awkwardly at the threshold, clutching a small cloth-wrapped package.

  "Jirou? What are you doing here?"

  The studious boy adjusted his glasses nervously. "Checking on your condition. The entire theory study group was discussing your... situation."

  Malcolm wasn't sure whether to be flattered or concerned that he was being discussed by the Academy's most serious students. "And they sent you as their representative?"

  "I volunteered," Jirou admitted, stepping into the room. "Your demonstration was... academically significant."

  Malcolm couldn't help but smile at Jirou's carefully neutral phrasing. "You mean it freaked everyone out that the clueless Western kid pulled off something the textbooks say is impossible."

  Jirou's lips twitched slightly, the closest he ever came to a smile. "The discussion was indeed animated." He held out the package. "I brought study snacks. Sweet bean cakes from the Eastern Quarter. They're said to aid cognitive recovery."

  "Thanks," Malcolm said, genuinely touched by the gesture. He unwrapped the package to find three perfectly formed cakes, their delicate golden crusts hiding a sweet red bean filling. "Want to share? I'm going crazy with only Healer Ming for company, and she's not exactly chatty."

  Jirou hesitated, then settled primly on the visitor's stool. "I can stay briefly. I have advanced stability theory in forty-three minutes."

  They ate in companionable silence for a moment before Jirou spoke again. "The essence manipulation you demonstrated—was it truly based on Absorptive Nexus theory?"

  Malcolm chose his words carefully. "It's the closest theoretical model to what actually happens in my soul space." Not a lie, exactly.

  "Fascinating," Jirou mused. "Most modern texts dismiss Nexus theory as primitive and superseded by Harmonized Channel models. But your demonstration suggested otherwise."

  "Maybe old theories aren't always wrong," Malcolm suggested. "Just incomplete or waiting for the right application."

  Jirou considered this, methodically breaking his cake into precise, equal pieces. "Perhaps. Though the rapid expansion of your soul space remains unexplained by conventional models."

  Malcolm tensed slightly. "Who said my soul space expanded rapidly?"

  "The entire Academy is discussing it," Jirou replied matter-of-factly. "Your collapse after the demonstration, combined with Healer Ming's diagnosis of channel strain from excessive expansion... it wasn't difficult to connect the evidence."

  Great. So everyone knew about his accelerated soul space growth. Just what he needed—more scrutiny on the one thing he was trying to keep secret.

  "It's not that big a deal," Malcolm said with forced casualness. "Some people just develop differently."

  "At five to ten times the normal rate?" Jirou asked skeptically. "According to conventional wisdom, soul space expansion of more than one meter per year is physiologically impossible without—" He broke off suddenly, eyes widening slightly behind his glasses.

  "Without what?" Malcolm pressed, suddenly alert.

  Jirou shook his head. "Nothing. Merely speculative theory from historical texts. Not academically supported."

  Before Malcolm could pursue this intriguing thread, the door opened again—this time revealing a visitor he definitely hadn't expected.

  Lian Koda stood in the doorway, his tall frame nearly filling it, his immaculate appearance contrasting sharply with the infirmary's simple surroundings. His eyes narrowed slightly upon seeing Jirou.

  "Endo-san. I was unaware you were acquainted with Sinclair."

  Jirou straightened perceptibly. "Academic interest only, Koda-senpai. His theoretical approach presents novel perspectives."

  "Indeed," Lian replied, his tone neutral but his gaze sharp. "If you would excuse us? I have matters to discuss with Sinclair-san regarding his recent... performance."

  Jirou rose immediately, the deference to upper-year students deeply ingrained. "Of course. I should prepare for my next class regardless." He turned to Malcolm with a small bow. "Rest well, Sinclair-san. Perhaps we can continue our theoretical discussion later."

  After Jirou departed, Lian remained standing, studying Malcolm with an intensity that made him uncomfortable.

  "To what do I owe the pleasure?" Malcolm asked, trying to sound casual despite his apprehension. Lian Koda had been openly skeptical of his methods from the beginning. This unexpected visit couldn't be good news.

  "Curiosity," Lian replied, eyeing the empty stool but remaining standing. "Your evaluation has become quite the legend already. 'The Western student who manipulated incompatible essences, then fainted dramatically at the Grandmaster's feet.'" His eyes narrowed slightly. "Quite the performance."

  "Wasn't going for drama," Malcolm said. "Just trying to show what I can do."

  "And what is that, exactly?" Lian asked, his voice deceptively soft. "Because what you demonstrated contradicts basic principles of essence compatibility taught since the Third Dynasty."

  Malcolm shrugged, trying to appear unconcerned. "Maybe those principles need updating."

  "Or perhaps," Lian suggested, "you've discovered some method you're not fully disclosing."

  The accusation hung in the air between them. Malcolm forced himself to meet Lian's gaze steadily, despite the nervous flutter in his stomach.

  "I've explained my methods to Master Seiran and the evaluation committee," he said. "The Absorptive Nexus theory—"

  "Is obsolete and incomplete," Lian interrupted. "And suspiciously convenient as an explanation for your unexplained abilities." He took a step closer, lowering his voice. "Grandmaster Kaiven has requested that I monitor your progress closely, Sinclair-san. As his research assistant, I have a particular interest in unusual soul space phenomena."

  "Lucky me," Malcolm muttered.

  "Indeed," Lian agreed with a thin smile. "Consider it an honor to receive such attention from the Academy's preeminent authorities. I'll be observing your techniques closely once you return to classes—particularly your extraction methods."

  "Looking forward to it," Malcolm replied, his smile just as insincere.

  Lian turned to leave, then paused at the door. "One more thing, Sinclair-san. I would suggest caution regarding your extracurricular activities."

  Malcolm's heart skipped a beat. "What do you mean?"

  "Your participation in the Twilight Exchange has not gone unnoticed," Lian said smoothly. "The origin of your remarkably pure materials has raised questions in certain quarters. Questions I intend to answer."

  With that parting threat, he exited, leaving Malcolm staring after him with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

  Just what he needed—another complication. Now Lian Koda, assistant to Grandmaster Kaiven himself, would be watching his every move, looking for evidence of his true methods. And he apparently knew about Malcolm's Twilight Exchange activities as well.

  The walls seemed to be closing in from all sides.

  Malcolm leaned back against his pillows, mind racing. Even with his expanded soul space, he would need to be extremely careful now. No processing anything unusual in his void pool, no obvious shortcuts, and possibly even a temporary pause in his Exchange activities.

  He closed his eyes, accessing his soul space almost instinctively. The expanded five-meter domain was a welcome change after weeks of cramped conditions, providing ample room for his collection of essence orbs. The void pool at the bottom—now nearly a meter across—pulsed with its usual eager energy, as if disappointed by its recent inactivity.

  "Sorry, buddy," Malcolm murmured. "We need to keep a low profile for a while."

  "Talking to yourself is either a sign of genius or madness," came a familiar voice from the doorway. "I'm betting on madness in your case."

  Malcolm's eyes snapped open to find Sorha leaning casually against the doorframe, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

  "What are you doing here?" he asked, immediately on guard after Elder Mozu's warning.

  "Checking on a fellow outsider," she replied, entering and closing the door behind her. "And delivering some information you might find useful."

  She settled onto the visitor's stool with her usual casual grace, so different from the rigid posture of Kagetsu students.

  "Half the Academy is talking about your little performance at the evaluation," she continued, keeping her voice low. "The other half is speculating about how a first-year Western student expanded his soul space to advanced dimensions in less than a month."

  "Yeah, I've been hearing that a lot today," Malcolm said warily. "What's this useful information you mentioned?"

  Sorha leaned forward, her expression turning serious. "I did some digging in the restricted section—our window exploration got postponed, if you recall." She withdrew a folded piece of paper from her sleeve and passed it to him. "You'll find this interesting."

  Malcolm unfolded the paper to find a neatly written list of book titles and specific page references.

  "What is this?"

  "The historical precedents for your little void pool trick," Sorha said casually, as if discussing the weather rather than Malcolm's most carefully guarded secret.

  He stared at her, cold dread washing over him. "I don't know what you're—"

  "Save it, Malcolm," she interrupted, her directness a stark contrast to Kagetsu verbal dancing. "I've been watching you for weeks. The unusual materials you sell at the Exchange, the unexplained extraction methods, your recent soul space expansion... it wasn't hard to connect the dots once I knew what to look for."

  Malcolm's mouth went dry. "And what exactly do you think you know?"

  "That your soul space doesn't just store things—it processes them. Breaks them down. That's how you're producing those impossibly pure extractions." Her eyes gleamed with something between admiration and calculation. "And I'm guessing that's also how you expanded your space so rapidly. Some kind of spatial artifact, perhaps?"

  Malcolm said nothing, his mind racing. Denial seemed pointless, but confirmation could be dangerous. Elder Mozu's warning about Sorha echoed in his mind.

  She studied his face for a moment, then sighed. "I'm not your enemy, Malcolm. Quite the opposite, in fact." She gestured to the paper in his hand. "Those references describe three historical cases of Absorptive Nexus manifestations. One of them, a practitioner from the Sixth Dynasty, specifically mentioned processing spatial artifacts to expand his domain. Sound familiar?"

  Malcolm's heart pounded. This was exactly the kind of historical validation he needed—proof that what he was doing had precedent, that it wasn't some dangerous aberration.

  "Why are you helping me?" he asked, still suspicious.

  Sorha's lips curved in a secretive smile. "Let's just say I have a vested interest in challenging the Academy's dogmatic approach to magical theory. Western and Ashkari traditions offer viable alternatives that Kagetsu traditionalists refuse to acknowledge."

  "So I'm what—your test case for alternative methods?"

  "You're a potential ally," she corrected. "And possibly a friend. Both are rare commodities for outsiders like us."

  Malcolm considered this. He needed allies, especially now with Lian Koda watching his every move. But could he trust Sorha? She'd discovered his secret through observation alone—impressive, but also concerning.

  "Those books," he said, nodding toward the list. "They're still in the restricted section?"

  "For now," she replied. "But I have a feeling they might find their way to a certain medicinal herb delivery tomorrow morning." She stood, smoothing her robes. "Rest well, Malcolm. We can talk more once you're back in classes."

  As she turned to leave, Malcolm called after her. "Wait—how did you figure it out? The void pool, I mean."

  Sorha paused at the door, her expression thoughtful. "In Ashkari, we have a saying: 'The truth reveals itself to those who watch without judgment.' I simply observed without preconceptions." Her smile returned, enigmatic and slightly mischievous. "Also, you really should be more careful about closing your workspace tarp completely when experimenting. Canvas walls don't block crystal-enhanced vision."

  With that revelation, she was gone, leaving Malcolm staring after her with a mixture of alarm and reluctant admiration.

  First Lian Koda with his threats of investigation, and now Sorha with her unnerving observations and mysterious motivations. Not to mention Jirou's growing academic interest and whatever "several students" Master Seiran had mentioned.

  Malcolm folded the paper carefully and tucked it beneath his pillow. One thing was becoming increasingly clear—keeping his void pool's true nature secret was going to be nearly impossible. Too many people were watching now, too many questions being asked.

  Perhaps the better strategy wasn't hiding, but controlling the narrative. Using the historical precedents Sorha had found, combined with Master Seiran's book, to create a theoretical framework that explained his abilities without revealing exactly how they worked.

  He reached for one of the blank notebooks Riven had brought. If he had to document his "methodology" anyway, he might as well start crafting a story that could protect him.

  The game was changing. And Malcolm needed to change with it.