Not too long after, Edwin entered the classroom with Isolde. "Thereâll be an after-party, a little time for you guys to bond," he said with a wide smile as his studentsâ faces lit up.
It would just be them meeting up at an eatery, but that was enough to ease their nerves after the preparation for the test and the effort put in to attain more points.
While the atmosphere heated up with conversations about the after-party, Isolde looked at the empty seat beside hers.
"Whereâs Godfrey?" she muttered, subconsciously glancing at Lucy, who shook her head, meaning she had no clue of his destination.
It made Isolde bite her lower lip as she looked at the dungeon core in her grasp. Her golden-orange eyes glowed when she thought of presenting it to him at the party.
She was dumb. Whispers of the Kingâs Hounds reached her and Edwinâs ears, which was why they rushed back, but the class was intact and Godfrey was missing.
Her first reaction was panic, but Lucyâs expression told her he wasnât with the Hounds. But that raised another question, where was Godfrey?
***
Julia, the school nurse, lifted her head toward the door and saw Godfrey. Her pupils dilated. âHas he been injured again?â she thought, staring at the golden-haired teen who had one hand in his pocket.
"Iâm here to see Snow and Cecil." Godfreyâs statement made her eyes widen. She rose up and pulled the curtain aside, revealing Snow and Cecil lying on their respective beds.
They were completely healed and were probably resting, but at this moment, both of them, whose beds had considerable distance between them, frowned at the sight of Godfrey.
Facing them, Godfrey breathed out heavily. "Iâm sorry. I lost myself back there," he said toward Cecil before facing Snow.
"I wasnât happy when you suddenly gained a remarkable skill by taking inspiration from my summon and deliberately rubbing it in my face. I apologise for damaging your summon that badly."
Both teens were stunned for a moment. They could see that the fault was there, painfully so, yet why was Godfrey acting like he didnât respond like any of them would in such a situation?
"Why are you apologising?" Cecil asked.
"I want fewer enemies," Godfrey responded coolly. He was strong enough to make demands now, and if they wouldnât drop everything and let it slide, since he, who was attacked first, had done so, then the line would be permanently drawn.
Snow sat up. "I have just one question. Are you truly the shadow king?"
"What?" Godfrey was stunned by the question. "What do you mean?"
Snow tilted his head toward Cecil. "She told me that youâre a King-tier summoner."
"I heard it from the headmasterâs secretary, saw it as a juicy story, and uploaded it anonymously on the school board but Mr. Edwin threatened me with expulsion, so I had to pull it down."
Julia, the school nurse, couldnât believe her ears. This golden-haired kid was a King-tier summoner?!
Godfrey had shock written all over his face. Seeing it, Cecil lifted an eyebrow. "Based on your expression, you really had no idea."
Godfrey stormed out of the office, his mind a storm. He was actually a King-tier summoner?!
Godfrey had been skeptical about the tier of the palace, as he didnât know if this third door might be the last, but knowing he was actually a King-tier summoner blew his head.
His heart pounded loudly as exhilaration filled his chest.
Didnât this mean he had the potential to stand at the top like the likes of Isolde? Chasing and competing with her wasnât just a fleeting dream anymore.
More importantly, his dream was definitely a possibility. No one would dare work his mother like a horse anymore. He would take up his fatherâs mantle and shield her.
Neither he nor she had to evade the topic of his summon anymore. Godfrey couldnât control the urge to tell her that he, her son, was a King-tier summoner, that he had the potential to become king!
He wanted to show her his knights, tell her their names, and everything about them. That dam of withheld emotions, all he wanted to say but endured, waiting until he grew stronger, burst from his heart.
Godfrey realized he wasnât that boy who trained night and day to improve his fighting skills, who thought even if he didnât have a summon, backing down wasnât an option anymore.
His future wasnât bleak.
Unable to hold himself, he took his phone and called his mother.
âThe number you have dialed is currently not reachable. Please try again later. Thank you.â
The call ended.
Godfrey tried again and got the same result. Upon dialing the number the third time, the call went through but the face that appeared on his screen wasnât his mother.
"Godfrey, how have you been?" The woman, a doctor who worked under his mother, asked with a pleasant smile.
"Iâm fine. Whereâs my mum?"
"Sheâs currently busy. Go have fun with your friends; she has to work."
The womanâs response made Godfrey frown. Just then, his mother took the phone. Godfreyâs smile died halfway when he saw her pale, exhausted face.
"Hi baby, how are you doing?" She barely finished before she began to cough.
Godfreyâs frown deepened. "Youâre not supposed to be working in such a state, are theyâ"
"Doctor Valentina, thereâs an emergency! A group of combatants from Pagoda Guild have been rushed in from a dungeon!"
A voice rang from his motherâs side, clearly, someone had entered the room.
"My schedule is already tight, and can you please give me some time to speak to my son," Valentina responded softly.
"People are in a life-and-death situation, but you prefer speaking to your perfectly healthy son?" A familiar masculine voice rang, and Valentina waved at Godfrey.
"Iâll call you back. Bye, sweetheart!"
"Mum, wait. Mum!â" The call cut off, leaving Godfrey hanging. His face distorted, eyes darkened with rage as his palm trembled.
That masculine voice belonged to Mr. Scott, a fellow high-ranking doctor who had tried several times to get his mother to marry him, but she turned him down.
He could perfectly recall when he visited that hospital. Godfrey was eight years old back then, but Mr. Scott approached him, asking to allow him to date his mother and he replied with a no.
Scottâs response was to call him Rolandâs vermin â that he was a pest damaging his youthful mother who needed a man by her side.
Though he never told his mother, that sentence never left his mind.
It lingered like some memories that never faded.