From 07:00 to 18:00, I play the part. I blend into the rhythm of the academy—completing assignments, smiling at 'friends,' and carefully weaving their loyalties into a net I can use. The first cup of Sivanamine elixir burns down my throat at exactly 07:00, jumpstarting my pulse.

  From 18:00 to 22:00, the Nameless Sword Manual consumes me. Every swing, every blister, every millimeter of visible growth hardens my resolve. I swallow the second cup then, letting the alchemical fire push the exhaustion from my muscles.

  From 22:00 to 01:00, I endure the Magic Engineering Night Class. The moment it ends, I descend into Vigo’s laboratory, assisting his obsessive experiments until 03:00. Cups three and four keep the edges of my vision from going black, the arcane stimulant forcefully keeping my mind sharp.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  That leaves the four hours before the morning bell. I swallow the fifth and final measure of the brew. And what do I do with the dead of night?

  A gloved hand gripped a stone windowsill. Arthur hauled himself through the narrow frame, his heavy, dark cloak swallowing the moonlight and muffling the scrape of his boots. He slipped into the unfamiliar dormitory, a shadow detaching from the night. He completely ignored the rhythmic breathing of the student asleep in the bed. He moved with silent, predatory efficiency—rifling through wardrobes, sweeping the contents of canvas bags, checking beneath the mattress. He left no corner unsearched.

  I will dissect the secrets of every single person in this academy.