Ronan thought he’d misread for a second.

He looked at the projection again, finding his name in the same place.

Ronan Ashbourne – Class S

He’d expected B class at most. Maybe A class if the Academy felt generous, though that seemed unlikely given his combat weakness.

But S class?

It didn’t make sense.

No, it made some sense.

The Academy clearly saw potential in him – tactical reasoning, strategic positioning, adaptability under pressure. Those were the qualities they’d been watching for during the Inter-Class War.

The students there were the ones the Academy believed could shape battles, lead entire classes, or destroy opposition alone.

Ronan was none of those things, at least not yet.

He briefly wondered if the Academy had somehow detected the Demon Leech and decided to place him in S class for observation or containment. But that seemed paranoid. If they knew, he’d already be in a cell somewhere, not standing in the main hall.

They must have seen something I didn’t realize I was showing.

But this wasn’t entirely unwelcome, especially since his circumstances had changed.

Class S meant resources. Better instructors, better facilities, better access to restricted training grounds. It was exactly the kind of environment he needed now that the Demon Leech had assimilated into his body.

But it also meant scrutiny.

Grace, Iris, Irene, Aura, Luca, Freya, Kazuma – every dangerous person in the first year would now be close enough to breathe down his neck.

Most of the students in the hall were absorbed in their own results, checking where they placed, how far they’d moved, whether they’d climbed or fallen.

Few noticed his name.

Elara did, however.

Ronan felt her stare before he turned his head.

She stood about fifteen meters away, arms crossed, her expression hovering somewhere between puzzled and suspicious. Her eyes flicked from the projection to him, then back again, as if confirming she hadn’t imagined it.

Ronan didn’t think her the type to care more about other people’s results over her own, but it seemed he’d been mistaken.

Their eyes met.

Elara didn’t look away.

Ronan gave her a small, neutral nod, and turned back toward the the front.

The headmaster was already gone.

Ronan took that as his cue to leave.

None of the other students were yet, but if the headmaster was gone, that meant there was nothing else that had to be said.

He slipped through the crowd without drawing attention.

When Ronan reached his room, the first thing he noticed was a black cat.

It sat on the windowsill, tail curled between its paws, watching him with amethyst eyes that practically glowed in the dim room.

To anyone else, it might have looked like a stray. Harmless. Maybe even cute.

Ronan knew better.

He closed the door behind him, locked it, and walked toward the cat without hesitation.

The creature didn’t move.

Just stared.

Ronan bent down, scooped it up with both hands, and held it at eye level.

"You know," he said, scratching behind its ears, "I think I’ll adopt you. Pretty little thing. I’ll call you Princess."

The cat’s pupils narrowed into slits.

Its fur bristled, claws pointing outwards suddenly.

Then it snarled – a low, angry sound no housecat should ever make – and swiped at his face with claws that left three thin scratches across his cheek.

Blood trickled down his skin at the shallow cuts.

Ronan didn’t flinch.

The cat leaped from his hands, landed smoothly on the floor, and backed up several paces.

Then it shifted.

Darkness rippled outward from the small form, and in less than a breath, the cat was gone.

In its place stood a girl, around five-foot-three, with dark flowing hair that spilled over her shoulders and the same amethyst eyes that now glared at him with open irritation.

Ronan widened his eyes on purpose, faking surprise.

"A demon!?"

Aura snarled.

"You think yourself a comedian. And I will have to ask you not to call me that accursed nickname again."

Aura huffed, arms crossed.

A small pout formed on her face, barely visible. It looked more from annoyance than anything.

He’d never seen that before.

Curious, he opened her character screen.

[Aura Acheron]

Affection: -8

Trust: -6

Loyalty: 3

The numbers had changed, and quite a bit actually since before the war.

Affection and trust were still negative, but they’d climbed into the single digits.

Loyalty had risen slightly as well.

Ronan studied the values, then closed the screen.

He didn’t fully understand why.

Maybe it was kinship. The Demon Leech inside him made him something closer to her now, even if only partially. Maybe she recognized that shift on some instinctive level.

Or maybe it was something else entirely.

Either way, her affection and trust going up was useful. He’d take it.

"Did you see?" Ronan asked, leaning back against his desk. "I made Class S."

"I did."

Silence.

Ronan smirked. "Not gonna praise me?"

Aura stared at him, her face a fierce deadpan, clearly not amused.

[System Alert: Affection -1]

Ronan mentally rolled his eyes. Of course.

He waved the notification away and shifted his tone.

"So. What do you want?"

"What makes you think I want something?"

"You only come into my room like this when you need something specific." Ronan gestured vaguely at the window she’d climbed through. "Otherwise, you’d have waited for a summons."

Aura’s face twisted when he said that. She obviously didn’t like that, but she didn’t deny it.

She took a breath and said, "Our relationship does not feel like the mutual agreement that was promised in the contract."

Ronan tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

Her face twisted, frustration bleeding through her usual composure. "You’ve been giving me orders left and right like a slave."

Ronan raised an eyebrow. "I did save you."

"You said this was a partnership," Aura shot back.

Ronan paused, then smiled faintly. "Did I really say those exact words?"

"I don’t care about the semantics."

"Clearly."

She stepped forward, amethyst eyes sharp. "I want you to do something for me now."