“…” Cavendish pondered for a moment. “Because the Little Prince was killed by a snake?”
“What? That’s not what the story says at all—” Ode started indignantly, but forced himself to calm down and focus on the matter at hand. “Just read it yourself! It’s unbelievable…”
Muttering under his breath, Ode clutched his favorite book, seething at the way it had been misinterpreted, and successfully climbed to the top of the cliff.
This was probably the highest spot for miles around. Standing at the edge of the cliff on the southeast side of the school, Ode could see the entire ocean stretching out before him, dark and thick as opaque ink. Looking north—
“Hiss.” Ode suddenly drew in a sharp breath.
“What is it?” Cavendish asked.
“The dense forest…” Ode murmured, staring northward. “It’s changed… Just overnight. I went inside at noon yesterday, and it was full of nothing but evergreens. But now…”
A gorgeous, unnaturally garish magenta-pink had overtaken the entire green expanse.
All the trees seemed taller than yesterday, their leaves even lusher. From afar, Ode spotted a night owl circling above the vivid peach-red treetops. “Do owls even come out during the day?”
“Some do,” Cavendish replied, like an elegant walking encyclopedia. “Short-eared owls and Northern Hawk Owls, for instance. But even nocturnal owls will hunt by day under certain conditions—if they’re under attack, short on food, or need to protect their nests during breeding season.”
“Spot on!” came an enthusiastic voice from inside the school’s iron gates, laced with just a hint of false warmth.
Ode and Cavendish turned at the same time to see a middle-aged man in a deep gray-green tweed suit standing there. He waved casually at his subordinates to open the gates. “I got a call from you two gentlemen, saying the prodigal sons had returned, wanting to donate money to build a new school building?”
“No…” Ode began, but his gaze fell on a poster plastered to the school gate.
It was a recruitment ad from a film studio, calling for good-looking prospects to sign up voluntarily, with a photo required.
Ode remembered this one—Paul had used it for his drawings. When the boy had borrowed paper and crayons earlier, Ode had taken a good look and figured the little squirt was harboring a dream of stardom. Too shy to tell his family or get a proper photo taken, he’d just scribbled a stick-figure version of himself instead.
“Sir?” The principal in the green suit followed Ode’s gaze to the poster, puzzled at first, then turning red with fury until his mouth nearly twisted in rage. “Someone! Get over here and tear that down! Why the hell is this on our school gate?! Where’s the gatekeeper? Someone pastes this trash right on our front door, and he doesn’t even notice?”
The principal huffed and puffed, panting heavily until his secretary dashed over, ripped the poster down, and eased him somewhat. Glancing back at the two aloof visitors, he grew mortified. “Forgive the spectacle, gentlemen… Why not head to my office to discuss this properly? This way, please.”
Compared to the school’s lone red-brick building, the principal’s office was far more grandiose. As Ode stepped inside, the standalone “little villa” felt like a scaled-down Buckingham Palace.
Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, he had a clear view of the distant rose-colored forest. Right at the edge, a small group of people with backpacks were marching straight in without a backward glance. From their attire, they were the scholars from the inn.
Strange… Ode thought. The woods have turned into this, and normal people should be terrified. Why are they heading right in? What on earth are they studying that’s got them so obsessed?
Puzzled, he trailed behind Cavendish and took a seat on the sofa at the principal’s invitation—Cavendish in the main seat, while he, still in his plain cotton-linen shirt and clearly the errand boy, settled modestly on the side.
“So… about the donation…” The principal hinted broadly.
“Oh, here’s the thing—” Ode shifted in his seat, adopting the smug air of a lackey riding his master’s coattails to throw his weight around. It would make his real purpose less suspicious. “My master loves the vibe of Dreamcatcher Town and wants to relocate here with his wife and child within two years. But there’s only this one rundown school in town—his wife won’t have her precious little one studying in a place like this. So he came up with the perfect solution: rebuild the entire campus to match our young master’s station.”
“Rebuild?” The principal blinked, caught off guard. “I figured… maybe a golf course or something. Ha ha.”
Ode fixed him with a glare that screamed Not funny. Are you insulting my master? until the principal’s awkward laugh withered under those hooded green eyes, dark and unsettling. “…So. Before we commit the funds, my master feels he should inspect things personally—make sure there’s nothing else that might displease the wife and require his… personal touch to tidy up.”
Ode gave the principal a meaningful look. “You catch my drift? Bad rumors, messy problems… none of that can reach her ears, or my master’s relocation plans go up in smoke. We all know a school with so many kids is bound to have little mishaps. So sometimes… we need a few ‘minor fixes’ to keep those ‘mishaps’ from her knowledge.”
“…” The principal gradually grasped Ode’s implication and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His face flushed pale, then eager—probably marveling at his luck. Just when he was desperate, saviors dropped from the sky?
He swallowed hard, eyeing them warily. “You’re not from the police, are you?”
Ode jerked a thumb at Cavendish, who had settled into the main seat and closed his eyes to rest. “Does he look it?”
“…” Cavendish lifted his pale lashes, slowly turning to Ode with a quizzically arched brow. “?”
He meant to convey simple confusion, but his face was too devilishly striking—even without malice, it sent chills down the spine.
The principal had been wary one second; the next, those sea-mist eyes made his legs go weak. But villains always mustered unusual courage. Midway through his fear, another thought bubbled up:
Meeting some stuffy, self-righteous noble would be a problem! How could he even broach covering up a disappearance? But this one… clearly no humanity there, a kindred spirit. And that outfit… gracious, it could fund a dozen expansions of this school!
“Alright then…” The principal said slowly, his beady eyes cautiously watching their reactions.
He wasn’t blind to the fishiness—too lucky by half! But for a man like him, greed and gambler’s itch were lifelong vices. When the payoff outweighed the risks, he couldn’t resist the table. And he had this irrational confidence:
Luck’s always been on my side.
Finally, the principal spoke up. “I suppose the school does have some issues that need handling. Like… strange noises from under the library now and then? Or piano music starting with no one at the keys? But those rumors are a dime a dozen—I’d bet every school has a ghost story or two.”
Ode tapped the sofa arm impatiently. “Don’t waste my master’s time with fluff.”
The principal hesitated, then rubbed his hands together tentatively. “I… think one of our students went missing.”
“Her roommate said goodnight to her on the evening of October 5th, lights out, but the next morning, she was gone without a trace! Can we… I mean, can that be swept under the rug?”
Damn fool, Ode cursed inwardly, feigning shock on his face. “That was just three days ago? No rush—maybe the kid’ll turn up! Here’s an idea: take me to the scene. If we recover her in the school’s name, doesn’t that turn a scandal into prime PR?”
“Brilliant!” The principal lit up, slamming the desk in excitement before catching himself and mumbling apologetically. “When shall we go? I’ll lead the way.”
