James strolled through the long corridors of the building, his footsteps echoing faintly against the stone walls.
He'd already skipped the first class on his very first day, but his face carried a smug smirk. Not like he cared about exorcisms anyway—they weren't his thing.
He was here for two reasons: the Vault, and something else. He needed a body for Gin.
If he remembered correctly, the teacher's name was something like Norman Columbus—a history teacher specializing in Ocryphia. After a lot of deliberation, Patrick Cromwell had settled on this man as the perfect vessel for Gin.
"Hmm, should I just deal with him now?" James muttered, stroking his chin thoughtfully. The idea was tempting, but the logistics were tricky. If Columbus was in class, it'd be impossible to catch him alone.
