Chapter 179: Echoes Of The Past III

PAST ADRIEN’S POV

"Put the paper on the table, Adrien," she says softly.

Adrien lowers his arms immediately, placing the damp, wrinkled page onto the surface. He stays seated on the stool, his back rigid, not daring to shift his weight.

"You will stay in this room for the rest of the evening," Alice says, standing up and adjusting her black sleeves. "No dinner tonight. You need time to think about your performance today. You need to reflect on why your father and I have to work so hard to cover up your inadequacies."

She steps toward the door, her heels clicking softly against the floor. She stops right beside his stool, leaning down slightly so her voice reaches only his ears.

"Do not attempt to leave this room," she whispers. "If I find out you stepped outside into the hallway before tomorrow morning, I will make sure your tutor, Mr. Miller, is dismissed by noon. And you know how difficult it is for a boy like you to adjust to new people, don’t you?"

Adrien’s stomach twists into a hard knot. Mr. Miller is the only person in this house who ever listens to him when he speaks. The only person who doesn’t look at him like he is an unwanted ghost lingering in the corridors.

"I won’t leave," Adrien whispers, looking down at his knees. "I’ll stay here."

"Good boy," Alice says gently, patting his cheek twice with two fingers. Her skin feels ice-cold against his burning cheek. "We will practice again tomorrow after breakfast."

She walks to the door, stepping out into the hallway. Henri follows her without another word, casting one final, disgusted look at Adrien before pulling the door shut behind them.

The lock turns with a sharp, heavy click.

Silence settles back over the small room, thick and suffocating.

Adrien sits alone on the stool in the dim light. The rain outside continues to patter against the window, a dull, rhythmic sound that fills the empty space.

He slowly lowers his head, resting his forehead against his knees. He doesn’t cry. He has learned long ago that crying in this house changes nothing. It only gives Alice another reason to remind him how weak he is, and gives his father another reason to look at him with hatred.

Instead, he just stays there in the cold room, listening to the rain, feeling smaller and smaller until he feels like he isn’t real at all.

The morning comes with no warmth.

The grey fog hangs low over the private academy grounds as the Dubois black family car pulls up to the iron gates. The rain from yesterday has stopped, leaving the paths slick and damp.

Adrien steps out of the back seat, his school uniform fitting loosely around his thin frame. His skin is pale, the dark circles under his eyes heavy from sitting awake in that locked room all night.

He holds his shoulder bag tightly against his side, his knuckles white against the strap.

Behind him, the car door shuts, and the vehicle immediately speeds away, leaving him standing alone near the entrance.

As Adrien walks through the main courtyard toward the stone archway of the elite school, his chest tightens. His breath comes out short and shallow.

He feels like every single pair of eyes in the courtyard is fixed on him.

Students in tailored blazers stand in small groups near the fountain, laughing and chatting, but to Adrien, their whispers sound like loud alarms aimed straight at his chest.

Every time someone glances in his direction, he flinches internally.

’They know,’ a dark voice inside his head whispers. ’They can see right through you. They know you are weak. They know your father hates you. They know you are nothing.’

His anxiety rises like a cold wave, flooding his senses until his palms go slick with sweat.

He lowers his head, fixing his eyes strictly on the floor, forcing his feet to move one step at a time. He feels so exposed, so fragile, as if a single loud word from anyone would shatter him completely into pieces.

He makes his way toward the east wing corridor, where the students usually gather before morning assembly.

As he rounds the corner, the crowd of students thins out slightly, clearing a path near the tall stained-glass windows.

Standing near the windowsill, surrounded by a few older boys from prominent families, is Orion Vassilis.

Orion is fourteen too, but he already carries an overwhelmingly sharp presence that makes people naturally step back.

He is leaning casually against the wall, his hands in his trouser pockets, listening to a boy talk about some minor political news with a look of absolute boredom on his face.

Adrien stops walking for a fraction of a second.

Normally, whenever Adrien sees Orion in these halls, a hot, sharp flicker of annoyance or defensive hatred flares in his chest.

Orion represents everything Adrien is forced to feel inferior to— power, confidence, and an untouchable standing that no one in this school dares to challenge.

But today... Today, Adrien feels nothing.

The hatred, the anger, the bitter envy he usually harbors— it is all gone, completely drained out of him by the crushing weight of last night. He is too exhausted, too broken, and too detached from his own body to muster even a sliver of emotion toward Orion.

Adrien just looks at him for a brief second with dull, empty eyes, feeling completely invisible.

Then, without saying a word or making a sound, Adrien lowers his gaze back to the floor, hugging his shoulder bag tighter against his chest, and quietly walks right past Orion’s group, shrinking into the background of the crowded hallway.

He doesn’t realize it.

He doesn’t realize that as he walked past, Orion stopped listening to the boy speaking beside him.

Orion turns his head slowly, his soulless, sharp eyes tracking Adrien’s moving form.

Orion notices everything. He notices the subtle, timid slant of Adrien’s shoulders. He notices the faint red mark near his jaw that Adrien tried to cover with his collar.

He notices the hollow detachment in Adrien’s eyes— a sharp contrast to the fierce glare the Dubois boy usually throws his way whenever their paths cross.

Orion stands quietly by the window, his expression unreadable, his gaze locked on Adrien’s retreating back until the pale boy disappears into the shadows of the classroom doorway.

And he frowns.