The Villain Professor's Second Chance

Amberine strode through the towering halls of Magic Tower University, the weight of her books pressing against her chest. The usual hum of student chatter filled the corridors, but today, there was something different—an unease, thick as the scent of old parchment and burning candles. It lingered in the air, carried in hushed voices and exchanged glances, in the way students lowered their voices as she passed.

Whispers trailed behind her, murmurs barely concealed behind the backs of hands. She didn't have to strain her ears to know what they were talking about.

Draven. Read latest chapters at My Virtual Library Empire

The name alone carried weight, but today, it was heavier than ever.

"…Did you hear?"

"They say he killed Lady Sharon."

"No way. Not even he would—"

"Are you sure? He admitted it, didn't he?"

Amberine's grip on her books tightened. The words latched onto her thoughts like stubborn embers refusing to die out. She had heard it too many times already—over breakfast, walking through the dormitory halls, during her morning class.

Draven Arcanum von Drakhan. The professor. The earl. The man everyone feared and respected in equal measure. And now, the man accused of killing Lady Sharon, the adjudant of Lady Sophie of Icevern.

Amberine exhaled sharply, forcing herself to keep walking at an even pace. The entire thing didn't sit right with her. Draven wasn't someone who acted without reason. He was efficient, methodical—every action measured with precision. Killing Lady Sharon… It wasn't just out of character. It was senseless.

And yet.

She could still hear his voice, clear as day, the moment she had confronted him about it.

"Yes. I killed her."

Amberine had been furious then. Disappointed. She had expected… something. A denial. An explanation. Anything other than that cold confirmation.

And yet, despite her initial anger, something about it gnawed at her. The pieces didn't fit. The motive was unclear. The circumstances surrounding the incident were hazy at best. Even now, as she navigated through the halls, her mind turned over every detail, every interaction, every moment leading up to that confession.

She thought back to Lady Sharon—fiercely loyal, brash, often reckless, but devoted to Sophie beyond measure. The kind of person who would die before she betrayed her lady. Why would Draven kill her? She wasn't a threat. She wasn't a political pawn. She wasn't even significant enough in noble circles to be worth the trouble.

So why?

Amberine slowed her pace, barely realizing it. A group of students leaned against the marble railing of the main atrium, their voices hushed but urgent.

"I heard Lady Sophie was seen outside the Royal Palace yesterday."

"That's not strange, she's stationed there."

"No, listen—her whole squad was dismissed from active duty."

Amberine's fingers curled. Dismissed? That wasn't something done lightly. A Royal Knight being relieved of her post, even temporarily, meant the accusation against Draven had real consequences.

"Some say it's because she tried to fight Draven in the capital—"

"Shut up. If she fought him, she'd be dead too."

A quiet laugh. "Fair. But what if he's really involved in something? I mean, no one knows what he does in that creepy office of his—"

Amberine clenched her jaw and walked faster, drowning out their words. Fools. They don't know anything.

It wasn't that she doubted Draven was capable of murder. He was one of the most terrifyingly competent people she had ever met. The issue was that the motive didn't add up.

Killing Sharon served no purpose.

And Draven never does anything without purpose.

The thought sent an uneasy chill crawling down her spine.

She hated it. Hated that she couldn't just take his words at face value, that she had to dissect and analyze his actions like a puzzle missing half its pieces. But Draven wasn't someone who let emotions dictate his choices. Which meant, if he had killed Sharon…

Why?

Amberine scowled at her own thoughts and pushed open the door to one of the university's grandest lecture halls. The massive chamber was alive with murmuring voices, clusters of students lost in hushed discussions. Some were flipping through their notes, preparing for the lecture, while others were clearly still tangled in the ever-present web of gossip. The air was thick with it, but Amberine ignored the buzzing conversations as she stepped further inside.

Rows of ascending seats stretched before her, a semicircle of scholars, mages, and nobles-in-training, each wrapped in their own affairs. She scanned the room quickly, searching for familiar faces. It didn't take long for her gaze to land on them.

Elara and Maris.

A single empty seat between them.

Amberine smirked. So they were saving her a spot now? Even Elara? The ever-stoic, ever-proud Elara? She hadn't expected that.

Maris waved at her with a bright smile, and Amberine made her way over, slipping into the chair with practiced ease. She set her books down with a dull thud.

"You're late," Elara remarked without looking up, her voice as neutral as ever.

Amberine shrugged, making a show of adjusting her robes. "I like making an entrance."

Maris chuckled. "You sure it wasn't because you got caught up eavesdropping on all the latest gossip?"

Amberine shot her a look. "Please. If I wanted rumors, I'd start my own."

"Bold of you to assume your own scandals wouldn't spiral out of control first," Maris teased, nudging her playfully.

Elara let out a quiet scoff but didn't argue, which Amberine took as a small victory.

Maris, however, leaned in closer, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. "Still, it's wild, isn't it? The whole Draven thing?"

Amberine tensed slightly. There it was again. No matter where she went in this damned university, the topic of Draven von Drakhan followed like a ghost in the halls.

"It's all just speculation," she muttered, keeping her voice even.

"But he admitted it." Maris' voice held both fascination and unease.

Amberine hesitated. "Did he, though?"

Maris blinked. "You don't believe it?"

Amberine exhaled, running a hand through her hair, feeling the weight of the past few weeks settle in her chest. "I don't know. Something about it just… doesn't add up."

Elara finally looked up from her notes, her sharp blue eyes locking onto Amberine's. "You've been thinking about it," she stated, not bothering to phrase it as a question.

Amberine met her gaze without flinching. "Haven't you?"

Elara didn't respond immediately, but something flickered in her expression. A quiet acknowledgment.

"I think everyone's been thinking about it," Maris murmured, folding her arms. "Even if no one wants to admit it."

Amberine's fingers curled slightly against the edge of the desk. She wasn't sure what unsettled her more—the rumors or the way Draven had responded to them. That moment, the way he had looked at her with those cold, knowing eyes, his words still echoing in her head.

"Yes. I killed her."

Simple. Direct. No elaboration.

And yet… it didn't sit right.

The professor wasn't someone who wasted words. He had spoken the truth—or at least, part of it. But if it were as simple as it sounded, then why did it feel like an illusion meant to distract from something far bigger?

Elara sighed, breaking the silence. "It doesn't matter," she said. "Even if there's more to it, no one here is going to question him. Not openly."

Amberine let out a dry chuckle. "Yeah. That much is obvious."

People feared Draven Arcanum von Drakhan, and for good reason. He was more than a professor. More than a noble. More than just the heir of a powerful family.

He was something else entirely.

The thought made her skin prickle.

Sensing the weight of the conversation, Maris clapped her hands together in an attempt to shift the mood. "Well! Let's not spiral into dark thoughts before class, yeah?"

Amberine rolled her eyes but smirked slightly, reaching into her robe and pulling out a small magic eraser. She slid it toward Elara.

"Here. This thing actually works well, so I bought one too."

Elara blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Then, with an almost imperceptible nod, she accepted it, flipping it between her fingers before tucking it away.

"Thanks," she said, almost grudgingly.

Amberine leaned back, grinning. "I'll cherish this moment forever."

Elara gave her a dry look, unimpressed. "You're insufferable."

Amberine ignored her, already feeling triumphant, when Elara suddenly slid something back across the table—a book.

Amberine raised an eyebrow. "What's this?"

"A better choice than whatever you've been reading," Elara replied curtly.

Maris, who had been taking a sip from her cup, nearly choked on laughter. "Wait. Are you two exchanging gifts now?"

Amberine narrowed her eyes. "It's not a gift."

Elara huffed. "It's a necessity. You have terrible taste."

Maris grinned wide. "You two are getting along so well now!"

Amberine immediately recoiled. "As if I'd get along with this cold witch?!"

Elara scoffed. "Watch your mouth, Maris. I don't associate with monkeys."

Maris lost it, laughing fully now. Amberine huffed, crossing her arms, while Elara returned to her notes as if nothing had happened. Despite herself, Amberine felt something warm settle in her chest. Maybe things had changed more than she realized.

But then, the door to the lecture hall opened.

The murmurs faded in an instant, swallowed by the weight of a single presence.

A rhythmic stride. A precise gait.

The center of every rumor walked in, as calm and collected as ever.

Draven.

His presence alone was enough to still the room, drawing every gaze toward him as he strode through the hall with effortless precision. There was no hesitation, no sign that the whispers had even reached him. The rumors, the speculations, the wary glances—they didn't matter.

Draven carried himself like an immovable force, untouched by the storm that surrounded his name.

Amberine's breath hitched for just a second. She had always thought of him as an enigma, but lately, it felt like she had been trying to read a book written in a language she didn't understand.

Maris shifted slightly beside her, clearly feeling the tension in the air. "Well," she muttered under her breath. "Here we go."

Amberine couldn't take her eyes off him.

Neither could the rest of the class.

Draven moved with calculated efficiency, his every motion smooth and unhurried, his dark uniform pristine as ever. Even the way he placed his books down on the podium was deliberate, methodical.

The students hesitated, waiting—expecting something. A reaction. A comment. Anything to acknowledge the controversy that had set the university ablaze.

But he didn't offer them that satisfaction.

Not even a glance.

He simply turned to the board, his fingers gliding over a book as he prepared for the lecture.

As if nothing had changed. As if there was no controversy. No rumors. No whispers of murder lingering in the air.

Amberine exhaled slowly.

"He's as unbothered as always," she murmured.

Inside her robes, Ifrit stirred, the fire spirit's presence shifting slightly. His voice, a low whisper in her mind, curled through her thoughts.

"This guy is as dangerous as ever… Lately, I get a strange, tingly feeling whenever he's around."

Amberine's grip on her book tightened slightly. "I've been feeling that ever since I met him for the first time."

Ifrit didn't respond.

Draven turned to face the class, his gaze sweeping across them. His eyes were unreadable, as cold and sharp as ever. And then—

He finally spoke.

The same precise, efficient, and direct tone.

The rumors, the expectations, the tension in the room—none of it mattered.

The only thing that did was the lesson.

"Attention,"

And so, class began.