Desmond knew immediately who it was.
"Good morning," Salvatore greeted, a confident smile on his face as he extended his hand to the girl who had been waiting with Desmond.
She accepted his handshake, a polite smile in return. "Welcome, Salvatore."
Salvatore nodded and turned his gaze to Desmond, his smile widening as he approached. "Told you we'd see each other soon, Desmond."
Desmond met his gaze calmly, giving a nod.
"Never doubted it," he replied, his tone neutral yet laced with a hint of intrigue. "But I am curious—what conditions were you given by… those people?"
He held his stare, carefully gauging Salvatore's reaction.
He'd learned enough from Lazy_Nerd to know that the Illuminati's goals were more ambitious—and dangerous—than a few simple "incentives."
If their plans succeeded, reality could descend into chaos, tearing apart the structured life that everyone depended on. And no amount of money would be enough to survive in the aftermath.
In order to survive, a person would need protection, shelter, and allies who could be trusted.
If the conditions offered to him didn't include those factors , then Salvatore was either dangerously ignorant, stupid, or outright crazy.
"Why so curious, Desmond?" Salvatore smirked, picking up on the scrutiny.
"Thinking of joining us?" He shrugged, then added with a wink, "But let's hold off on that discussion—we wouldn't want to keep such a lovely lady waiting."
He gestured toward Grace, who stood between them with a raised eyebrow, taking in the tension between the two.
"You two seem to know each other," she said, glancing between them, the curiosity clear in her eyes.
"Unfortunately," Desmond replied, holding Salvatore's gaze. "His choices are costing me more than I can measure right now."
Salvatore gave a lighthearted shrug, flashing an easy grin. "You mean the choices of my employers. Man's gotta eat, you know."
"Sure," Desmond replied, his tone unyielding. "But a man first needs to have a place to eat."
Salvatore's smile flickered, but he quickly hid it, pretending Desmond's words hadn't struck a nerve.
Desmond, however, noticed the shadow of something else in Salvatore's eyes—something that hinted at uncertainty.
It was a small slip, but enough to confirm what Desmond had already suspected: Salvatore's employers may have given him wealth and status, but they hadn't promised him survival.
"Alright, you two," Grace interrupted, her voice light but firm, as if sensing the unspoken tension. "Save the philosophies for the classroom. Our orientation begins in a couple of days, and there's a lot you'll need to learn."
Desmond nodded, giving Salvatore one last meaningful glance.
Whatever game Salvatore was playing, he'd have to play it carefully. The academy was about to become a battleground of hidden alliances, rivalries, and plans.
Grace gestured for Desmond and Salvatore to follow her as she stepped through the grand gates, her pace brisk but steady.
"I'll lead you both to your dorms so you can settle in," she said, her voice calm but carrying the authority of someone used to guiding others.
"There are still five days remaining in the one-week grace period to get all first-year students in place. After that, there will be an orientation for you all. You'll be introduced to how the academy functions and operates."
Desmond took in her words as they followed her through the towering gates, his eyes widening as he got his first real look at the academy grounds.
The world he had once only known through Lazy_Nerd's descriptions on a screen now unfolded around him in vivid, breathtaking detail.
The academy's pathways stretched out in every direction, bordered by towering trees whose leaves had turned crisp in the cold, morning air.
Some of the buildings looked as old as time, their worn facades blending seamlessly into the landscape, as though they had risen from the earth itself.
Others were sleek and modern, showing how tradition and innovation coexisted within the academy's walls. The blend gave the place an aura of both serenity and power—a place of both history and future ambition.
A few students passed by, each dressed in the academy's distinct uniforms. Desmond noticed the emblems on their blazers, which signified their respective ranks and classes.
Their expressions were serious, focused, with a quiet confidence that hinted at the strength and skill they possessed.
This place is where Parker's legacy began, Desmond thought, his curiosity mingling with a sense of awe.
Beside him, Salvatore walked with his hands casually in his pockets, his gaze flicking around, taking in every detail but with an air of nonchalance, as if he'd always belonged here.
Grace led them down a path that branched off from the main courtyard, heading toward a cluster of buildings nestled between the trees.
"These will be your dormitories," she announced, gesturing to a stately building with large windows and ivy clinging to its stone walls.
"Your room assignments have been given to you upon registration, so head inside and find your rooms. Once you're settled, explore the grounds—there's no better way to get familiar with the academy than to walk through it yourself."
Desmond nodded, mentally mapping out the directions they'd taken.
…
Desmond paused outside Room 291/292, eyeing the white wooden door with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.
Clutching his registration documents, he noticed a small poster pinned up on the door:
"Pick one, leave the other for your roommate."
He raised an eyebrow, guessing it referred to the keys hanging on the door. With a small shrug, he picked one of the keys.
Pushing the key into the lock and turning it, he stepped inside with his backpack slung over his shoulder.
The room was modest but clean, with two bunk beds, a small desk, and a closet space.
Sunlight streamed in through a window, casting a warm glow over the simple furnishings.
"Back to sharing a room, huh?" Desmond muttered to himself, glancing around.
He'd gotten used to having his own space, and the thought of a roommate—someone he didn't know—intruding on his personal space wasn't exactly appealing.
"Well, I call—"
Before he could finish, a backpack flew past him and landed on the top bunk, followed by a deep, booming voice.
"I call top bunk!"
Desmond turned, raising an eyebrow at the figure standing in the doorway.
The boy towered over him at 6'8", with flaming red hair that brushed the top of the doorframe.
His broad shoulders filled the doorway, and he had a smirk that practically radiated mischief.
Desmond's eyes widened as he tilted his head back, craning his neck to look up at his new roommate's towering frame.
The sheer height and presence of the boy startled him.