The rumor didn’t spread loudly.

  It crept.

  Like smoke seeping through unseen cracks, it lingered in half-finished sentences, hushed voices behind cupped hands, and the uneasy glances exchanged between students who trained too hard and slept too little. No announcements. No posters. Just whispers that refused to disappear.

  Kaoru noticed it first during morning patrol.

  She moved through the academy halls at a measured pace, hands clasped behind her back, eyes scanning faces and posture out of habit more than suspicion. Everything looked orderly on the surface—uniforms straight, movements disciplined.

  But underneath, something was off.

  “Did you hear…?”

  “They say it makes your body feel lighter.”

  “No pain. No fear.”

  “…But he collapsed afterward.”

  Kaoru stopped.

  The hallway continued to flow around her, students passing in neat lines, unaware—or pretending to be—but Kaoru turned her head slightly toward the source of the whispers. Two first-year students stood near a window, shoulders drawn close, voices barely audible.

  “What are you talking about?” she asked calmly.

  The words weren’t sharp. They didn’t need to be.

  The two froze instantly.

  One of them swallowed hard. “N-nothing, Vice President.”

  Kaoru’s gaze sharpened—not threatening, just focused. The kind of attention that made it hard to lie.

  “If it’s nothing,” she said evenly, “say it clearly.”

  The two exchanged glances. Fear flickered across their faces before one finally spoke.

  “…There’s something going around,” the other admitted. “A drug. Some upperclassmen are using it before combat practice.”

  A chill crawled up Kaoru’s spine.

  “What kind of drug?”

  They hesitated again, as if saying the name itself carried risk.

  “People are calling it Ashveil.”

  That evening, the student council room was dimly lit.

  Only four people were present.

  Miyazuki Ashen sat at the head of the table, fingers steepled beneath her chin, crimson eyes shadowed by the low light. Kaoru stood across from her, posture straight, expression composed. Beside Kaoru leaned another council member—a tall boy with short dark-blue hair and sharp, disciplined eyes.

  Renji Kurogane.

  Third year. Enforcement division. Sword specialist.

  “So it’s confirmed,” Miyazuki said quietly. “Ashveil has reached Fiester.”

  Renji clicked his tongue, irritation slipping through his disciplined exterior. “Of all places…”

  Kaoru crossed her arms. “What does it do?”

  Miyazuki didn’t answer immediately.

  She reached into a folder and slid a document across the table. The paper scraped softly against the wood.

  “Temporary enhancement,” she said. “Heightened strength. Dulled pain. Increased reaction speed.”

  Kaoru skimmed the text, her eyes narrowing.

  “And the cost?”

  “Muscle degradation,” Renji said grimly. “Hallucinations. Addiction after three uses.”

  Miyazuki added, “And eventual nervous collapse.”

  Kaoru’s jaw tightened.

  “This close to the survival camp…” she muttered.

  Miyazuki nodded once. “Exactly why we can’t let it spread.”

  Renji straightened. “Give the word. I’ll handle it.”

  “You won’t,” Miyazuki replied flatly.

  Renji stiffened.

  “You’ll assist,” she continued, her gaze shifting to Kaoru. “You’re leading tonight’s patrol.”

  Kaoru met her eyes without hesitation. “Understood.”

  The academy after curfew felt like a different world.

  Lanterns cast long, wavering shadows across stone paths. The wind carried distant echoes—the settling of the training grounds, the rustle of leaves, the faint hum of magical barriers maintaining the academy’s perimeter.

  Kaoru and Renji moved silently across the rooftops, boots barely disturbing the tiles.

  “East wing dorms,” Renji whispered. “Reports say someone’s been slipping out after lights-out.”

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  Kaoru nodded. “I’ll take the front. You circle.”

  They dropped down soundlessly.

  The moment Kaoru landed, she felt it.

  An off rhythm.

  Footsteps—unsteady, hurried.

  She turned just in time to see a student stumble out from behind the storage building, clutching something small and dark in his hand.

  “Stop,” Kaoru said.

  The student froze.

  Second-year. Sweat soaked his uniform, hair plastered to his forehead. His pupils were unnaturally dilated, and faint dark veins traced along his neck like ink beneath the skin.

  “…Vice President,” he slurred. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  Kaoru stepped closer. “Drop it.”

  He laughed—a sharp, broken sound that echoed too loudly in the quiet night.

  “You don’t get it,” he said. “This stuff… it makes everything quiet.”

  Renji appeared behind him, blade already half-drawn. “Ashveil,” he muttered. “Damn it.”

  The student’s expression twisted.

  “You think you’re better than me?” he snarled. “You council types… always watching.”

  He raised his hand—

  And crushed the vial.

  Dark, ash-like powder burst into the air.

  “Renji!” Kaoru shouted.

  The student inhaled deeply.

  The change was immediate.

  His posture straightened. His breathing slowed. The tremor vanished from his hands. His eyes sharpened—then unfocused.

  Then he smiled.

  “I feel amazing.”

  Kaoru drew her sword in one smooth motion, steel catching lantern light.

  “So do I,” she said coldly.

  The student moved first.

  Too fast.

  Kaoru barely deflected the strike as his fist slammed toward her head, the impact sending a violent shock through her arms.

  “He’s enhanced!” Renji shouted, drawing his own blade. “Don’t underestimate him!”

  “I won’t,” Kaoru replied, sliding back.

  The student laughed, eyes glassy. “You’re slow.”

  He lunged again—but this time Kaoru sidestepped, her blade flashing as she slashed across his arm.

  Blood sprayed.

  He didn’t even flinch.

  “Pain’s gone,” he said dreamily. “Isn’t that great?”

  Renji closed in from the side, blade aimed low.

  The student twisted unnaturally, kicking Renji back with enough force to send him skidding across the stone.

  “Renji!”

  “I’m fine!” Renji growled, forcing himself up. “Focus!”

  Kaoru adjusted her grip.

  No hesitation.

  Disable. Don’t kill.

  She stepped forward deliberately.

  “You think this makes you stronger?” she asked. “You’re burning yourself from the inside.”

  The student’s smile cracked. “Worth it.”

  He charged.

  Steel rang against steel—Kaoru parried, twisted, and drove her pommel into his ribs. Renji followed instantly, striking the student’s leg and forcing him to stagger.

  For a moment, it worked.

  Then the student screamed.

  A raw, animal sound.

  Dark veins spread across his face as his body convulsed violently.

  “…It’s eating him,” Renji whispered.

  Kaoru didn’t respond.

  She moved.

  One clean strike to the back of the neck.

  The student collapsed.

  Silence fell.

  Kaoru stood over him, chest rising slowly, sword still humming faintly with tension.

  Renji exhaled. “That was too close.”

  Kaoru stared down at the unconscious boy. “…This is just the beginning.”

  They handed the student over to academy security before dawn.

  By the time Kaoru returned to her dorm, the sky was already beginning to lighten.

  She sat on her bed, sword resting against the wall, armor discarded. Her body ached in places she hadn’t noticed during the fight.

  Her thoughts refused to settle.

  Ashveil.

  The survival camp.

  Abandonment.

  Too many things converging at once.

  She lay back, staring at the ceiling.

  “…Rainforest,” she murmured, thinking of Itsuki.

  Different terrains. Different dangers.

  Eventually, exhaustion won.

  Kaoru closed her eyes—

  And drifted into uneasy sleep.