The masked man pressed forward, stepping closer to Harry, who was clearly out of breath and drained of mana. Blood seeped from multiple wounds across his body, yet he showed no intention of speaking.
Envy's eyes locked onto the notebook. She recognized it immediately—it wasn't just any notebook; it was her notebook, the one she had used to record countless thoughts, magic theories, and important secrets. Regret gnawed at her, and she desperately wished she could go back in time and slap herself for her carelessness.
Why did I leave something so important in the library? she thought bitterly. Back then, she had never imagined she would one day be exiled from the Hightower.
