Being "Unclassifiable" had the ring of a rare badge, a virtual trophy in a complex game. But the reality was more prosaic: it was an administrative euphemism to signify that they didn't know which category to put me in, and that consequently, my surveillance was doubled.

  The effects of this new status manifested themselves at dawn the following day. I had barely crossed the threshold of my dormitory when I spotted a golem stationed at the corner of the hallway. Not a standard model, no. This one was sleeker, of a more refined make. Its pristine white armor was traced with lines of golden runes along its torso. And its eyes… glacial blue, devoid of any warmth. A surveillance model, without a doubt.

  As soon as I passed by it, it started walking beside me. Without aggression, without overt threat. Just a constant presence, a mechanical shadow that emitted a faint hum.

  In class, the situation was more subtle, but just as heavy. The students continued to ignore me, but the silence was no longer the same. Before, I was invisible, a non-entity. Now, I was an unknown variable, a disruptive element. I was observed from a distance, with a caution mixed with curiosity, like a wild beast studied behind the bars of its cage.

  The theoretical magic professor, Master Vidral, even stopped short upon discovering my name on the roll call.

  "Eisenwald? Are you attending this class?" he asked, undisguised surprise in his voice.

  "It's what's on my schedule," I replied, a touch of irony in my tone.

  He said nothing more and resumed his lecture. But his gaze never met mine again, even when I participated, even when my answers proved correct.

  After lunch, Ilya intercepted me near the magical greenhouses. Today, she was wearing tinted glasses, no doubt to study the effects of artificial light on enchanted plants. Or perhaps simply to cultivate an additional aura of mystery.

  "So, the unclassifiable student now has their own golem companion?" she remarked, a smirk on her lips.

  "He's my new fan. He's shy, but admirably consistent."

  She let out a soft laugh.

  "Be careful. Surveillance golems are equipped with direct memory. Everything you say, everything you touch, even thoughts that are too persistent, they record."

  "I'm honored by the attention," I retorted, my tone laced with barely veiled sarcasm.

  "No. You're a target. They're waiting for you to make a mistake. Not because you're inherently dangerous, but because your existence questions their illusion of control."

  I crossed my arms, a feeling of injustice rising within me.

  "Is it so reprehensible to be a little different?"

  "No. But here, to be incomprehensible is a form of transgression."

  I thought she was exaggerating the ambient paranoia. But that evening, returning to my room, I found my door ajar, and an abnormally peaceful silence reigned inside.

  I stood still for a moment, my heart beating faster. Then, with infinite caution, I pushed the door open.

  Everything had been moved. Not vandalized, nothing had been broken. Just… arranged. Sorted. Reclassified according to a logic that escaped me. My notebooks had been meticulously aligned on the desk, their pages carefully turned to the sections where I scribbled my abstract spells, my improbable magic equations. My clothes were folded with military precision. My few personal belongings had been cleaned and placed with surgical accuracy.

  Even my magic lantern had been replaced. It now diffused a pale blue light, strangely cold, instead of the soft yellow glow I was used to.

  And on my pillow, a handwritten note, calligraphed with icy elegance:

  "You are observed with interest. Do not lose your balance."

  No name. No signature.

  I closed the door behind me and locked it. Three times. The metallic click of the bolts echoed in the oppressive silence.

  The next day, I was informed that I was summoned to the administrative building. This was never a good omen. Ordinary students were never called there, except in cases of serious illness… or proven dangerousness.

  The administrative building stood apart from the main campus, an old converted temple, all white marble and twisted pillars, where the air itself seemed denser, more charged with a silent authority.

  I was made to wait in an austere entrance hall, sitting on a cold stone bench. I felt the presence of the surveillance golem outside, an immobile and silent sentinel.

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  Then my name was called, and I was led into a circular room, of monastic sobriety. A massive desk, a few discreet shelves, a levitating magic hourglass measuring an invisible time. And behind the desk, a woman. The headmistress.

  I had never seen her in person, only on information parchments. An elf with iridescent pearl-gray hair, pale and piercing green eyes, and the tranquil aura of someone who knows the exact place of everything… and the procedure to follow if it isn't there.

  "Klaus Eisenwald. Sit down," she said in a calm and measured voice.

  I obeyed.

  She remained silent for a few seconds, her piercing gaze fixed on me, then slowly turned a page in her register.

  "You defeated Elena von Silberlicht. Then Dirk Arvens. Two students from influential noble families. With an unlisted affinity."

  "I didn't defeat them. I… neutralized them," I corrected, uncomfortable under her scrutiny.

  "That is precisely what worries me," she replied, her tone unchanged.

  She closed the register with a dry snap.

  "The magic system of this academy rests on clear and established principles. Classes, levels, elemental affinities. You circumvent each of these fundamental pillars. And you do it… with disconcerting ease."

  I remained silent, waiting for what came next.

  She continued, her gaze insistent:

  "Your atypical progress has attracted the attention of several members of the High Council of Magic. And also… of certain others."

  I looked up, a pang of apprehension in my heart.

  "'Others'? Who does that involve?"

  She lingered for a moment on my questioning gaze, then said in a strangely soft voice:

  "Do you hear voices, Klaus?"

  I didn’t answer immediately, weighing my words.

  "One. Sometimes. It doesn't really speak. It… comments."

  "Caprathor," she pronounced, the word resonating in the room like a crack in crystal. "It chose you. Or rather… it spotted you. And the anomalies it notices, it encourages."

  She leaned forward slightly, her green eyes fixed on mine.

  "You are not at fault, Klaus. Not yet. But if you continue to progress in this direction… it is not us you risk facing."

  I sat up straighter, a new determination washing over me.

  "So, what do you expect from me?"

  "That you continue to progress. But with moderation. Without brilliance. You are allowed to exist, Klaus. Not to disturb the fragile balance of this institution."

  She offered a calm smile, but it didn't reach her cold eyes.

  "It would be regrettable to have to classify you in another category. A category that we monitor… more actively."

  I stood up, my hands slightly clammy.

  "May I be frank?"

  "Please do."

  "Balance is just an illusion, Headmistress. It holds until someone realizes they can ask one question too many."

  She didn't answer, her expression impassive.

  I left her office. The golem was waiting for me, still, as expected. But this time, it didn’t just follow me. It positioned itself in front of me and started walking.

  And I understood. I was no longer just a student, a tolerated anomaly. I had become an unstable data point, forcibly integrated into a system that sought either to extinguish me or to control me. And that system, now, was letting me move forward, but always on its predetermined path.

  I left the administrative building without a word. The sky was low, heavy with dark clouds. Not yet stormy, but heavy, oppressive. As if even the elements hesitated to meet my gaze.

  The white golem still preceded me, its steps perfectly synchronized, never slowing down. It was no longer passively watching me. It was escorting me. I didn’t know if it was a form of perverse promotion or a thinly veiled threat. Maybe both.

  Passing by the greenhouses again, I saw Ilya sitting in her usual spot, legs crossed, a notebook open on her lap. She barely looked up as I approached.

  "Took a while. Did she grill you?"

  "She served me a lukewarm warning, with an icy smile as a side dish."

  "Classic Luxnheim," she commented, unsurprised.

  I sat down beside her. The silence between us was not heavy, a rarity I appreciated.

  Finally, she spoke again, her gaze lost in the lush foliage:

  "Do they know you're… connected to Caprathor?"

  "They suspect it. And they hope I'll be docile."

  "And will you be?"

  "I'll pretend to be," I replied, a bitter smile on my lips.

  She smiled in turn, without the slightest hint of humor.

  "Welcome to the club."

  That night, I settled at my desk, alone with my notebooks. The headmistress's words still echoed in my head.

  "You are allowed to exist, Klaus. Not to disturb the balance."

  But it wasn't me who had initiated this imbalance. It was him. Caprathor. That constant murmur in my mind, that diffuse presence that never really left me anymore. He wasn't there to guide me, nor to destroy me. He was watching me, with infinite patience, like a player examines a pawn that begins to make unexpected moves on the chessboard.

  And me, without wanting it, had become that pawn.

  I picked up my pen, opened a new blank page. I began to draw a magic circle that I had never yet attempted to conceptualize. A purely theoretical idea, a logical contradiction looped in on itself.

  A spell that only works if it fails.

  Illogical. Incoherent. But perhaps… that was precisely what Caprathor was waiting for. Not an open rebellion, not a cry of defiance. Just a subtle, slow, irreversible derailment.

  A cold shiver ran down my spine. And in the silence of my room, barely audible, it seemed to me that I heard a whisper. Not in my mind this time, but in the walls themselves.

  "Very good. Keep writing the bug."

  I didn't answer. But deep down, a certainty was growing: I might still be a simple student, still "unclassifiable" in the eyes of the academy. But chapter after chapter… I was slowly, inexorably… becoming the problem.