Pulling his hand back, Leor said, "Let's report it to the police first." He flipped open his pocket watch—almost ten.

  "But I don’t have time to go there. My class starts at eleven, and I can’t miss it."

  I also need to talk to Vane and Alya.

  "And clearly," Leor added, turning to Johan, "you don’t know anything about our culture or norms, so you can’t file the report on your own."

  It was tricky. To make it to the station on time, he’d need a private carriage. Regular ones took over an hour and a half, stopping constantly. A private carriage would cut it to forty minutes, but even that was tight.

  "If you’re leaving for class, what about me?" Johan asked, his expression solemn, eyes wide like a pleading puppy. "Should I stay here and keep an eye on your house?"

  "No, it’s better if you stick with me." Leor rubbed his temple, thinking fast. "Ah, maybe I can send a telegraph to the police station. The local line should deliver it in two hours. And it’s on the way to where we can catch the carriage."

  "That could work," Johan said, though uncertainty lingered. Then, narrowing his eyes, he asked, "But wait—if you’re going to class, how am I supposed to stay with you?"

  He folded his arms, waiting for an explanation.

  "I mean, what’s stopping you from coming with me to class?" Leor shrugged. "You look like a noble, and my tuxedo suits you well. No one’s going to dare ask if you’re real or not."

  Johan frowned. "What about ID checks? Don’t they verify that before letting students in?"

  Leor blinked, confused. "What’s an ID?"

  Johan’s mouth twitched. "Right, you guys still hold witch trials."

  "Just act scholarly," Leor said, ignoring the comment. "Keep your mouth shut. Smile and nod at anyone who looks at you."

  "What about the teachers? Won’t they notice the new face?"

  "Don’t worry. There are 150 students in every class, and nobles can join whenever they want. Mid-semester, mid-lecture—it doesn’t matter."

  Johan’s face twitched slightly.

  "What’s wrong?"

  "N-Nothing," he stammered. "Let’s just go."

  He definitely hates nobles, Johan thought, finally understanding Leor’s passive aggression.

  Ignoring his reaction, Leor headed toward the door, motioning for him to follow.

  "Oh right, from now on, your name is Johan Von Adlerhof. If someone asks, you’re a noble from the Dunkeld Empire, here to study at the most prestigious academy in the world."

  "What the hell? This story sounds too suspicious," Johan frowned.

  This is definitely a generic academy webnovel explanation. If caught, I’ll probably end up burned alive, he thought.

  "That’s a noble house from Dunkeld. No one’s going to check unless you do something suspicious. Both empires have a friendly relationship. Or do you have a better plan?" Leor raised an eyebrow.

  "I mean, I don’t know anything about that place. What if someone asks a random question? My cover would be blown…"

  And probably burn me too! he added silently.

  "You’re right…" Leor admitted, pacing. Suddenly, inspiration struck.

  He dashed into James’s room, rummaging through old belongings, and emerged with a dusty top hat and a wooden cane. After cleaning them, he handed them to Johan.

  "You’ll be an arrogant noble," Leor announced. "If anyone asks you a question, look at them like they’re a foolish ape. They’ll back off. Just carry yourself like you own the world."

  Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  He turned back, expecting hesitation. Instead, Johan’s eyes shone like the sun.

  "I’ve always wanted to be an arrogant young master!" he exclaimed giddily.

  …What is wrong with him? Leor thought, bewildered.

  Whatever. He was getting used to it.

  Leor passed him the cane and top hat, then fixed his collar. Running his hand through Johan’s silky blonde hair, he styled it into a rugged, sophisticated look.

  "Alright," Leor said, masking his satisfaction. "Let’s go."

  They stepped outside. Leor sighed, soaking in the warm sunlight after the cold days. He locked the door, jiggling it to ensure it was secure.

  Behind him, Johan muttered something under his breath, clearly annoyed.

  Leor ignored it.

  They strolled toward the square. It was quiet until Johan nudged his arm.

  "What?" Leor asked, glancing back.

  "Do you have a girlfriend?" The question was so out of the blue that Leor froze.

  "Why are you asking?" Leor forced a calm tone.

  "So you don’t," Johan replied, matter-of-factly.

  "Hey, I never said that!" Leor protested. "With my looks, it’d be as easy as eating a pastry. I’m just not interested in meaningless relationships. When I meet the right woman, I’ll marry her."

  And it’s not like I don’t have anyone in mind, Leor thought, scratching the back of his neck.

  Johan gave him a look—a mix of disbelief and pity—that made Leor’s blood boil.

  He likes a girl but has no game, Johan thought.

  "What about you?" Leor shot back. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

  Johan didn’t answer. It only annoyed Leor more.

  "...Do you want to know?" Johan asked suddenly, his tone calm.

  "Yes," Leor said cautiously.

  "...let’s leave that. I’ll show you something else today!" Johan replied with a smirk.

  With that, Johan increased his pace, searching for something or someone.

  Leor sighed, deciding to drop it.

  They reached the square, and the telegraph station came into view. The sign above the door creaked in the breeze, and the faint hum of a nearby crowd filled the air. Inside, a young receptionist—around twenty—greeted them. She wore a simple grey cotton dress layered with a fur coat, giving her an air of elegance.

  Johan’s eyes instantly brightened.

  "How can I help you, gentlemen?" she asked, her gaze lingering on Johan.

  Leor’s jaw tightened, but he forced a smile.

  "I need to send a telegraph to the police station. It’s urgent—I’d appreciate it if it could arrive within the next hour or two."

  The receptionist’s smile softened. "Of course. Is everything alright, sir?"

  "Yes, everything’s fine," Leor replied quickly. "It’s just a minor report—nothing to worry about."

  He wrote out the details, leaving out the unnatural parts. Without evidence, he didn’t want to end up in a psych ward. He included his address and signed at the bottom.

  Looking up to hand over the paper, Leor’s eyes twitched.

  Johan was leaning casually against the counter, his hand lightly brushing the receptionist’s as they talked. She wasn’t pulling away; in fact, her cheeks were flushed, and her shy smile made it painfully obvious she was enjoying the attention.

  Johan grinned, his gaze saying I’m better.

  Leor gritted his teeth. Why… why are they flirting? You’ve known each other for a minute!

  He inhaled deeply. I am calm. I am calm. I am calm.

  "Ahhm," Leor coughed pointedly. The sound broke their moment, and the girl straightened up like a guilty child.

  Johan stepped back, adopting an innocent expression that fooled no one.

  Leor shot him a glare. The receptionist, still blushing, quickly took the telegraph, signed it, and placed it into a box.

  He handed her a silver pound note for the fees. She took it, placed it in the wooden box, and smiled professionally.

  Then she looked at Johan’s brown eyes, like she wanted to say something.

  "We’re done here," Leor said, his voice sharper than intended. "Let’s go catch a carriage, or we’ll be late."

  Johan followed without a word, grinning ear to ear. They left the station.

  Leor pushed the strange incident to the back of his mind, but it wasn’t working well.

  Tyate Extra's:

  1 Gold pound = 1000/USD

  1 Silver pound=10/USD1Silverpound=10/USD

  1 Bronze pound = 1$/USD