The Legacy Of The Virkir's

Chapter 07

 

Arthur skimmed through the files on his screen, tapping his fingers lightly against his chin.

“Well… should it really matter right now?”

Alastor raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

Arthur leaned back in his chair. “I mean the Belmond girl. Whatever connection there is, we can deal with it later. Right now, we need to get you into the university.”

Alastor was quiet for a moment. Then he nodded. “Fine.”

Arthur turned the screen slightly so Alastor could see.

“Chloe Everstone,” he said. “Blackwood University. Second year.”

Alastor’s eyes stayed on the name.

“She’s on scholarship,” Arthur added. “Same situation as before. No safety net. If she loses it, she’s out.”

“I see” Alastor said.

Arthur glanced at him. “That’s why you want to be close.”

“Yes.”

Arthur exhaled. “Then you can’t go in as yourself.”

“I’m aware.”

“We’ll register you as a transfer student,” Arthur continued. “You’ll go in with a different name.”

Alastor didn’t answer immediately.

“Leo,” he said.

Arthur looked up. “Just Leo?”

“Leo Vance.”

Arthur typed it in. “Age?”

“Twenty-four.”

“That works,” Arthur said. “Old enough not to raise questions.”

“Major?”

“Literature.”

Arthur paused. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

Arthur shrugged and kept typing. “Alright. Leo Vance. Transfer student. Starts next week.”

“Off-campus housing,” Alastor added.

“I’ll handle it.”

Arthur finished up and closed the file. “You should know Blackwood is full of people who talk. Rich kids. Politicians’ kids. Belmond is one of them.”

Alastor’s expression didn’t change. “I know.”

Arthur studied him for a second. “If this gets messy—”

“It will,” Alastor said. “That’s fine.”

Arthur nodded. “Then it’s done.”

Alastor stood and headed for the door.

“Boss,” Arthur called.

He stopped.

“Try not to draw attention to yourself this time.”

Alastor didn’t turn around. “No promises.”

And then he left.

The elevator down was silent. Not that he minded of course, it gave him time to think about what was going to happen next. 

Chloe Everstone, his childhood friend and basically his first crush. They’d play in the sands together, pretend that they were fairies off to stop humans from polluting the earth. 

She had always believed fairies were real. 

Then he knew they weren’t but obviously let her live in her stories.

Alastor smiled as the elevator door chimed and opened. It was a nice memory, one of the good ones in fact. 

Suddenly flashes of his family home burning crossed through his mind. The warm memory was now replaced by a cold burning rage. 

Alastor stepped out onto the street, the city noise swallowing him whole.

He would find them eventually. The people who burned his home. Who took everything from him.

But not today.

Today, Chloe came first.

She didn't know it yet, but she was in danger. Scholarship students with no backup were easy targets. And if what Arthur said was true—if she really was struggling—then she needed someone watching.

He flagged another cab.

"Where to?" the driver asked.

"Nearest salon," Alastor said.

The driver glanced at him in the mirror. "You getting fancy for someone?"

Alastor didn't answer.

Twenty minutes later, he sat in a chair while a stylist looked at him with confusion.

"White?" she repeated. "You want your hair dyed white?"

"Yes."

"That's… bold. Are you sure? It's hard to maintain, and with your skin tone—"

"I'm sure."

She hesitated, then shrugged. "Alright. Your head."

Two hours later, Alastor stared at himself in the mirror.

His black hair was gone. In its place, stark white strands fell across his forehead. It changed everything—his face, his presence and the way people would see him.

Good.

He paid and left.

Next stop: a small optician's shop tucked between a café and a bookstore.

The clerk looked up when he entered. "Can I help you?"

"Glasses," Alastor said. "Non-prescription. Something simple."

The clerk nodded and brought out a few options.

Alastor picked a pair with thin black frames. With this people would believe he was a nerd.

He put them on.

The clerk smiled. "You look like a college student."

"Perfect."

He paid and walked out.

His phone buzzed.

Arthur: *Admission letter sent. Check your email. Housing address attached. You're all set.*

Alastor opened the file and skimmed it.

Leo Vance. Transfer student. Literature major. Second year.

He printed the letter at a nearby shop, folded it neatly, and slipped it into his jacket.

Then he caught another cab.

"Blackwood University," he said.

The driver whistled. "Fancy school. You a student there?"

Alastor glanced out the window. "Starting next week."

"Nice. Must be smart."

Alastor didn't respond.

The campus came into view—tall gates, old brick buildings, students scattered across the lawn with books and coffee cups. It looked expensive and safe.

But it wasn't.

Alastor got out and walked through the gates.

No one stopped him. No one even looked twice.

He found the administration building easily enough. Inside, a woman sat behind a desk, typing.

"Excuse me," Alastor said.

She looked up. "Yes?"

"I'm here to submit my admission documents."

She nodded. "Name?"

"Leo Vance."

She typed something, then gestured to a stack of forms. "Fill these out and bring them back. Classes start next Monday."

"Understood."

He took the forms, filled them out quickly, and handed them back.

She stamped them without even looking at him.

"You're all set," she said. "Welcome to Blackwood."

"Thank you."

Alastor turned to leave

He was almost at the door when he saw a familiar face standing near the bulletin board, flipping through a folder.

Seraphina Belmond.

The girl from the alley. The girl who threw his card in the trash…. And apparently was supposedly his fiancée.

She hadn't noticed him yet.

Alastor froze.

Of course she was here.

Of course.

He turned sharply and walked in the opposite direction before she could look up.

Behind him, Seraphina glanced toward the door, frowning slightly.

But he was already gone.