{Elira}
~**^**~
Seven Hours Later…
The end of Economics of the Wild felt like surviving a storm. My brain was fried, my focus thinning like mist, and all I wanted was to bury my face into a pillow.
But there was one more thing to do.
As the professor exited the room and my classmates poured into the hallway in waves of laughter and heavy footsteps, I slipped out behind them and fished my phone from my pocket.
My thumb found Zenon’s name in my contacts, and I pressed call.
I started walking quickly, dodging clusters of students. Zenon would hate the noise. He didn’t do noise or delays.
Zenon picked up after two rings.
“Good afternoon, Professor,” I said quickly, ducking into a quieter hallway alcove. “I just finished with my classes.”
“Find your way to my office at the Academic Block. Don’t be late,” he replied, curt as always.
Then he ended the call.
There was no “okay.” Nothing like, “I’ll be waiting.” No tone softer than steel.
I sighed and started walking fast, already calculating how long it would take to grab my backpack and still not arrive late.
Fortunately, before lunch, I had told Cambria and the others that I wouldn’t return to the dorm right after class; thankfully, no one pressed for details.
Tamryn had only reminded me to be back in time for our study session, and that was all.
Back at my locker, I grabbed my bag and zipped it shut, thoughts swirling.
I was heading into a conversation I didn’t want to have… with a man I didn’t understand… to receive a gift I didn’t want… from a brother who didn’t give me the one thing I actually asked for.
Still, I walked toward Zenon’s office. Toward whatever came next.
—
I stood in front of Zenon’s office door, exhaling slowly before knocking twice — soft, but clear. My heartbeat tapped a steady rhythm in my chest.
“Come in,” came his usual cold voice.
I bent the handle and stepped inside.
It was exactly as I expected — the office was just as pristine and composed as his study back at the Alpha’s estate.
Not a single paper out of place, not a speck of dust. Everything symmetrical, polished… precise. Like the man sitting behind the desk.
Zenon looked up, expression unreadable. “Take a seat.”
I nodded and moved forward, perching lightly on one of the two chairs opposite his desk.
“What were your courses today?” he asked without preamble.
I blinked. “Science of Scent & Tracking, and… Economics of the Wild.”
He raised a brow. “Let me see your notes.”
My mouth parted slightly, confused. “My notes?”
His expression didn’t waver. The sharp angle of his brow deepened, and I realized — he wasn’t joking.
Scrambling, I slipped my backpack off my shoulder, unzipped it quickly, and pulled out both notebooks, placing them gingerly on his desk.
Zenon opened the first one.
The silence in the room was thick as he read, flipping through the pages slowly, his frown growing more pronounced with each one.
I shrank slightly into my seat. ’Had I written that badly?’
Just then, a soft knock came at the door, and then it creaked open.
Rennon peered inside. “Hope I’m not interrupting.”
Zenon didn’t say anything, but his eyes flicked briefly to the door. A silent form of permission.
Rennon stepped in, his usual warm presence immediately shifting the temperature in the room. The door closed behind him with a soft click.
I stood to greet him, but he gestured quickly. “No need to stand, Elira.”
He approached the desk with a light grin and held out the gift bag from the photo this morning.
“I got you something,” he said. “Go on — open it.”
His tone was gentler than Zenon’s, encouraging. I blinked, surprised by his insistence. Usually, he let me open things on my own. Never this… push.
Still curious, I quickly folded the paper Zenon had given me and slipped it into my backpack, freeing my hands.
Then, with quiet anticipation buzzing in my fingertips, I pulled the gold-sealed flap of the bag open and peered inside.
Time seemed to stop as my breath caught in my throat briefly.
No… No… Could this be…
But as I reached in and slowly lifted the familiar hardback volume into the light, I turned it over in my hands, and there it was.
ESA Yearbook — 1988.
The very one that had vanished from the Archive room yesterday.
A stunned smile broke across my face. My fingers ran across the raised lettering on the spine just to feel the date.
I turned to Rennon, wide-eyed. “You found it?”

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