Page 21 of My Demon Teacher

Heat climbs up my chest and constricts my throat, but I refuse to clear my throat. I won’t show any sign of weakness in front of this man. I won’t let him know what Mr. Jung means to me. How much he means to me. But there will be consequences if he does nothing. And they won’t be pleasant.

“Be that as it may, it’s your word against…” Dean Colchester looks to the empty seat beside me and sighs. “The Byrons are a very honorable family. They’ve all graduated from Lockwood Academy with the highest honors.”

“So you don’t believe me.” I can’t help the growl in my voice.

This is abominable. Since I met Thaddeus Colchester a week ago, he’s given me the impression he is a very good, respectable man running an equally good and respectable academy for witches. But clearly, his palms are greased by the wrong hands and his heart is swayed by the people with money to flash.

“That is not what I’m saying, Lucian. Bring me Mr. Jung. Let him testify, and I will reconsider.”

Testify. As if we’re in court. I have to laugh. I don’t, but I swallow down some very dishonorable words and stand.

“Fine. I’ll be right back.”

I don’t bother with the door. I walk around Thaddeus’s desk and let my wings break the window so I can fly out.

If he’s going to disrespect me by blatantly accusing me of lying, then I have no reason to respect him either. But I can deal with Thaddeus Colchester after I’ve dealt with Byron.

The sky is a dark shade of mauve, befitting the city it’s cast over. It’s an odd place, Amethyst City. More rich than poor, more advanced than derelict. More expensive than working class-friendly.

It shouldn’t shock me that this place is filled with horrible people, yet every person I’ve met other than my darling Yu-jin and his friend has been highly disappointing.

Good thing I don’t have morals so I can punish those who stand in my way and especially my soulmate’s way. Because no one who tries to hurt him, use him, or stop him is safe from my wrath.

His window is still open when I approach, and I fly right through, only to find him in bed, fast asleep.

He looks gorgeous when he sleeps. Well, to be fair, he looks gorgeous every second of every hour of every day. But he looks so…vulnerable when he’s asleep. No matter what he says or does when he’s awake, he can’t hide his true vulnerable nature in this state. I can see the real Yu-jin, scars, strengths, and character in their full glory when he’s sleeping.

Which is why I hate having to do this, but I lower myself over him, kiss his beautiful, soft cheek, and call his name.

He doesn’t react.

“Darling boy.”

Still nothing. The events from earlier tonight must have exhausted him. Who can blame him? But I need him to wake up and “testify” to the goddamn dean so I can have Byron expelled. Once he’s expelled, I can make him pay for what he did to my boy.

I brush my fingers over his face and kiss his lips this time. He doesn’t stir. Doesn’t even turn to his side.

“Yu-jin.” I raise my voice, and I hate myself a little more every time I do it, but I reach a point where I’m shouting his name, shaking him, and he still doesn’t wake.

Something is wrong. Something’s terribly wrong.

What could have possibly happened in the time I’ve been gone. It’s barely been an hour. Maybe an hour and a half, if I count the time it took for the dean to wake up and get dressed.

The Byron bastard couldn’t have gotten in with all the wards around the place. Then again…it’s not impossible. He somehow found the money to purchase a really expensive illusion spell. Because I’d been back to the gym and found the dust residue of the spell. It was potent with magic even after several hours after the incident. And no human is powerful enough to cast such an illusion, even if it’s their natural power.

But Ryan Byron comes from a wealthy family with a hefty trust fund and you can find all sorts of spells with the right price tag.

But even if he did find and purchase an intrusion spell, it still doesn’t explain why Yu-jin won’t wake up. Or why he’s still here and unharmed. If he broke in, he would have cut him, surely.

I close my eyes and run my hands over my boy, tuning in to higher frequencies, focusing on them, trying to figure out what exactly is going on.

His limbs are cold, his heartbeats and breathing are slow as expected, but there’s something…something there. On his head.

I wave my hand over his face. A trickle of magic scratches my fingertips. What the hell is it?

I move down the rest of his body before I try his head again. Same thing.

Some sort of magic. Something…something in his brain.

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