The Villain Professor's Second Chance

She was late—again.

Elara, on the other hand, walked with a measured, purposeful stride, her cold blue eyes scanning the hallway with the same calculating efficiency that marked everything she did. Unlike Amberine, Elara's appearance was immaculate, her blonde hair pinned neatly in place and her robes pristine.

She walked slightly ahead, not bothering to look back, knowing full well that Amberine would catch up, as she always did.

The lecture hall was already buzzing with activity when they arrived. Students were hunched over their desks, pouring over the latest assignments left by Professor Draven before his unexpected leave.

Draven had a reputation for being a harsh taskmaster, but he was also a genius, capable of simplifying even the most complex magical theories with logic and analogies that made the material more accessible.

Amberine slipped into her seat next to Maris, who offered her a sympathetic smile. "Late again?" Maris whispered, her voice tinged with amusement.

Amberine rolled her eyes. "You know how mornings are for me," she muttered, pulling out her notes. Ifrit snuggled deeper into her robe, his warmth a comforting presence.

Elara, sitting on the other side of the room, caught Amberine's eye and offered a brief, almost imperceptible nod. Despite their rivalry, there was a silent understanding between them—a mutual respect that had grown over their years at the university. But that didn't stop the unspoken competition that colored every interaction between them.

"Settle down, everyone," came the voice of Professor Althea, who had taken over some of Draven's lectures during his leave somehow after assistant professor Yuli announced the extended leave of the professor. She was a capable instructor, but the students couldn't help but feel the absence of Draven's unique teaching style.

As the lecture began, Althea went over the complex task they were expected to complete by the end of the week. The room was filled with murmurs as students exchanged worried glances. The assignments had grown increasingly difficult since Draven's departure, each one pushing them further than the last.

Amberine bit her lip as she listened, her mind already racing with the challenges this new task presented. It involved the intricate weaving of elemental magic with ancient runic inscriptions—a combination that required both finesse and power. Amberine excelled at the latter, but her clumsy nature often made the former a challenge.

Elara, of course, appeared unfazed, her expression calm and unreadable as she absorbed the instructions. Amberine watched her out of the corner of her eye, feeling that familiar twinge of frustration. Elara always seemed so composed, so perfect. It was infuriating.

As the lecture progressed, Amberine's thoughts kept drifting back to Draven. Without his guidance, the assignments seemed more daunting, the concepts harder to grasp. Draven had a way of breaking down complex ideas, using analogies and logical explanations that made everything click. Althea was good, but she lacked that intuitive understanding of how students learned best.

"Are you even listening, Amberine?" Maris nudged her, breaking her from her reverie.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sorry," Amberine stammered, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Just thinking about… things."

Maris chuckled softly. "Don't worry. It'll be fine, we'll make it."

The rest of the lecture passed in a blur of notes, diagrams, and whispered conversations. Amberine found herself struggling to keep up, her mind clouded with doubts. She wasn't the only one. As the class was dismissed, she overheard other students grumbling about how difficult it was to manage without Draven's explanations.

"Everything seems bland without him," one student muttered as they packed up their things.

"Yeah, I miss the way he used to break things down for us. Althea's good, but she's not Professor Draven," another replied.

Amberine couldn't help but agree. She missed the way Draven would pace the room, his voice calm and steady as he walked them through the logic of a spell, or how he would pause, waiting for them to arrive at the solution on their own before offering a subtle hint. Without him, the tasks felt more like insurmountable obstacles than challenges to overcome.

Later that day, Amberine and Maris found themselves in the library, pouring over ancient texts in an attempt to unravel the mysteries of their assignment. The library was a place of quiet contemplation, its walls lined with dusty tomes and scrolls that contained the knowledge of centuries.

Elara, of course, was there as well, seated at a table not far from them. She was engrossed in her work, her quill moving steadily across the parchment. Amberine watched her for a moment, feeling that familiar mix of admiration and irritation.

"You know, you could always ask her for help," Maris suggested, not looking up from her book.

Amberine scowled. "Ask Elara? No way. She'd just gloat about how she figured it out on her own."

Maris raised an eyebrow. "Or she might actually help you. You two are more alike than you think."

"Not a chance," Amberine muttered, flipping a page with more force than necessary. Ifrit shifted within her robe, as if sensing her agitation.

Hours passed, and the library grew darker as the sun set. The magical lamps flickered to life, casting a soft glow over the rows of books. Amberine's frustration mounted as she struggled to make sense of the runes. Nothing seemed to fit together, and she could feel the deadline looming over her like a storm cloud.

Maris, sensing her friend's growing despair, reached out and placed a comforting hand on her arm. "We'll figure it out, Amberine. Let's take our time,"

Amberine sighed, leaning back in her chair. "I just hate that I'm thinking of wishing Draven was here. He'd know exactly what to do.

Maris nodded, for a while, the flashback of the cold and ruthless professor Draven helping her in her revenge and disappearing without even accepting a single thanks from her flashed through her head.

'He's not as bad as what people thought of him' is what she firmly believe.

When replying to Amberine, her expression thoughtful. "Speaking of Professor Draven… I heard something interesting today."

Amberine perked up, curiosity piqued. "What is it?"

Maris glanced around to make sure no one was listening before leaning in closer. "I got a message from a contact in the Royal Knights. There's been some trouble in the north—something about a Goblin King causing chaos. And apparently, Lady Sophie is handling it."

Amberine's eyes widened. "Lady Sophie? She's one of the strongest knights in the kingdom!"

Maris nodded. "And get this—Professor Draven was issued a command by the Queen herself to assist her. They say he's the only one who can handle the situation."

Amberine's heart skipped a beat. Draven was out there, facing danger while they were stuck here, struggling with assignments. She felt a strange mix of worry and admiration. He was always so calm, so in control. It was hard to imagine him in the midst of battle.

"Well, that's not surprising as he's her fiance," Amberine murmured, more to herself than to Maris.

Maris smiled softly. "Well Amberine, we've got our own battles to fight here."

Amberine nodded, though her thoughts remained with Draven. She wondered what he was facing out there, and whether he would return safely. A part of her longed to be out there with him, fighting alongside the Royal Knights somehow as she remember how he saved her from the demons in the royal banquet, but she knew her place was here, at the university.

But then, the letter of her father appeared inside her head.

The hatred, the anger, everything, once again re-emerged.

"No, let's stop," Amberine shook her head. "I have an important thing to focus on,"

As the days passed, the tasks assigned by Draven continued to challenge the students, pushing them to their limits. Amberine and Elara both found themselves working late into the night, each determined not to fall behind. Their silent rivalry fueled their progress, even as they both missed the clarity that Draven's teaching had provided.

One evening, as Amberine was making her way back to her dormitory, she noticed something strange. A student she didn't recognize was lingering in the shadows near one of the older buildings, their movements furtive and suspicious. Amberine slowed her pace, watching closely as the student glanced around nervously before slipping into the building.

Frowning, Amberine approached cautiously, her heart pounding with a sense of unease. Ifrit stirred within her robe, sensing her tension. She reached out to push the door open, but hesitated, something in the back of her mind warning her to be careful.

Steeling herself, she pushed the door open just enough to peer inside. The interior was dimly lit, the air thick with a strange, acrid smell that made her nose wrinkle. She could see the student now, crouched over something on the floor, their hands moving rapidly as they muttered under their breath. Stay connected through m-v l|e'm,p| y- r

Amberine's eyes widened as she realized what she was seeing. The student was drawing a circle of runes on the floor, the lines glowing with an unnatural, sickly light. She recognized the symbols immediately—they were the markings of demonic magic.

She had to act fast.

"Stop!" Amberine burst into the room, her voice ringing with authority she didn't feel. The student jerked in surprise, their eyes wide with fear and something else—desperation.

"Get out of here!" the student hissed, their voice trembling. "You don't understand!"