The change at the Academy was subtle at first. Then it was glaring.

Classes were cancelled.

Not with a detailed explanation, but with a succinct note pinned to the door:

Cancelled. Study independently.

Professor Ashwood, who was famous for never missing a lecture, had missed three in a row.

Students wandered the courtyards, confused.

"Is she sick?" a second-year mage asked.

"I heard she was called to the front lines," another whispered.

"No," a third said, leaning in. "My cousin works at the Magistrate's court. He said there's a lawsuit. Something about her husband's family."

The rumors spread like spilled ink.

Marcus stood near the fountain in the central quad. He was ostensibly reading a book on agricultural reform.

In reality, he was watching Seraphina's office window.

The blinds were drawn. They had been drawn for three days.

He hadn't seen her.

She hadn't replied to the short note he sent asking if she wanted to grab coffee.

He told himself it was good.

This is what you wanted, he told himself.

Space. Distance. A natural end to the entanglement.

If Seraphina was busy, she wasn't falling in love with him.

She wasn't ruining the plot.

It was a victory for Operation Redirect 2.0.

So why did he feel like he had swallowed a stone?

"You're staring again," a voice said beside him.

Marcus didn't jump. He was getting used to Damien's stealth.

"I am observing architecture," Marcus lied. "The gothic arches are fascinating."

"The blinds are drawn, Marcus," Damien said. "She's not coming out."

Damien leaned against the fountain. He looked tired. He held a stack of library books under one arm.

"It's bad," Damien said.

Marcus closed his book. "How bad?"

"Eleanor told me," Damien said.

Marcus raised an eyebrow. "Eleanor? The quiet library assistant with the glasses?"

"She's very observant," Damien said defensively.

A slight flush touched his cheeks. "And she notices patterns. She noticed you hiding in the astronomy tower, remember?"

"Right," Marcus said. "What did she see?"

"Seraphina," Damien said. His voice dropped. "She's been coming into the restricted legal archives. Late at night. After the students leave."

"Legal archives?" Marcus frowned. "Why?"

"She's researching inheritance precedents," Damien said. "Specifically regarding 'moral clauses' and spousal forfeiture."

Marcus felt a cold chill.

"The rumors are true then," Marcus said. "Her in-laws are coming for her."

"It's worse," Damien continued. "Eleanor said Seraphina looked... haunted. She wasn't taking notes. She was just reading the same pages over and over. And she was... crying."

Marcus felt the stone in his stomach turn into a boulder.

Seraphina Ashwood didn't cry. Not where anyone could see.

If she was weeping in a library at 3 AM, she was at the end of her rope.

"She's turtling," Marcus muttered.

"She's what?"

"Turtling," Marcus explained.

"It's a defense mechanism. When a high-functioning person encounters a crisis they can't solve, they retreat into their shell.

They cut off social contact. They try to out-endure the pain."

He had seen it a dozen times with executive clients.

They would stop answering calls. They would lock their office doors.

They would try to work harder to fix a problem that required emotional support.

"She thinks she has to do this alone," Marcus realized. "She thinks she deserves it."

"Well," Damien said. "From a narrative perspective, this is a side plot. A character development arc."

He shifted his books.

"But from a human perspective," Damien added softly. "She's about to lose her home and her memories because her in-laws are greedy vultures."

Marcus looked up at the darkened window.

He imagined Seraphina in there. Sitting in the dark. Convincing herself that she was strong enough to bear the weight of the world.

She had told him about the pressure. About the pedestal everyone put her on.

Being strong doesn't mean being invincible.

He had written that on a note. He had given it to her with tea.

It seemed she had forgotten the lesson.

Or maybe she just didn't believe it applied to her when the stakes were real.

Marcus gripped his book. His knuckles turned white.

"We need to go," Marcus said.

"Go where?"

"To my place," Marcus said. "We need a strategy session."

"Marcus," Damien warned. "If you get involved in a legal battle, you are not fading away. You are stepping into the spotlight."

"I know," Marcus said.

He turned and started walking. He walked fast.

"You're going to ruin the plan," Damien called after him, hurrying to catch up.

"The plan can wait," Marcus snapped. "She can't."

✧✧✧

Marcus's lodgings were cluttered with maps and diagrams from their previous scheming.

He swept them all off the table with one arm.

Operation Redirect 2.0 fluttered to the floor.

The code names. The schedules. The carefully plotted romantic intersections.

None of it mattered right now.

"Sit," Marcus ordered.

Damien sat. He looked concerned. "You have that look. The 'I'm about to do something professionally reckless' look."

"She is isolating," Marcus said. He paced the small room.

"She is processing grief, guilt, and a direct attack on her identity simultaneously. If she breaks, she doesn't just lose a lawsuit. She loses her sense of self."

"Okay," Damien said. "Diagnosed. Prognosis: bad. What's the treatment?"

"Intervention," Marcus said.

"Marcus," Damien said. He held up a hand. "Let's look at this logically. You are the cause of the lawsuit."

Marcus stopped pacing. He looked at Damien.

"Excuse me?"

"The summons cites 'romantic impropriety'," Damien pointed out. "Witnesses saw her with you. If you show up to help her, you are literally providing evidence for the prosecution."

Marcus flinched. He knew Damien was right.

"If I stay away," Marcus said, "she fights alone. And she loses. Because she doesn't think she deserves to win."

"If you go," Damien countered, "you confirm the allegations. You might make her lose faster."

"Not if we're smart," Marcus said. "Not if I'm not a suitor."

"You are a suitor," Damien said. "Have you seen the way you look at her?"

"I am a consultant," Marcus corrected. He forced his voice to be professional. "I am a specialist in grief recovery and crisis management."

Damien snorted. "Does this world have a certification for that?"

"It does now," Marcus said.

He leaned over the table.

"She needs two things," Marcus said. "She needs legal ammunition. And she needs emotional permission."

"Legal ammunition?" Damien asked.

Damien frowned. He tapped his chin.

"Inheritance law in Valeria is... sticky," Damien admitted.

"It relies a lot on precedent. But usually, unless there's a specific remarriage clause, a widow retains rights regardless of social conduct."

"Find out," Marcus ordered. "You know how to research. Use Eleanor. Find every precedent where a widow retained assets despite 'moving on'. Find me the case law."

Damien sighed. "So my job is homework. What's your job?"

"My job," Marcus said, "is to break into a fortress."

"She locked her door, Marcus."

"I don't mean her office," Marcus said. He tapped his chest.

"I mean the guilt. She thinks honoring Richard means being miserable. I need to help her rewrite that narrative."

"You're going to life-coach her," Damien realized.

"I'm going to save her," Marcus said.

"And the plot?" Damien asked. "The prophecy? The harem?"

Marcus looked at the pile of papers on the floor.

He saw the diagram labeled Seraphina -> Theo.

It looked ridiculous now.

It looked like a child's drawing of a battle plan compared to the actual war.

"Seraphina isn't a plot point," Marcus said quietly. "She's a person. And she's hurting."

He looked at Damien.

"If saving the world requires me to let a good woman be destroyed by greed and guilt, then the world isn't worth saving."

Damien stared at him for a long moment.

Then, slowly, a grin spread across Damien's face.

"You know," Damien said, "that is exactly something a protagonist would say."

"Shut up," Marcus said.

"I'll go to the library," Damien said, standing up. "I'll get the books. You get the girl."

"I'm not getting the girl," Marcus insisted. "I am providing professional support."

"Keep telling yourself that," Damien laughed. He headed for the door. "Good luck, Marcus. Try not to accidentally propose."

The door closed.

Marcus stood alone in the room.

He felt the fear bubbling up.

The impostor syndrome.

Who are you to fix this? You're just a burnt-out therapist from Earth.

But then he thought of Seraphina sitting in the dark.

He thought of the pride she took in her students.

The hidden warmth behind the ice.

He grabbed his coat.

He wasn't a warrior. He couldn't fight demons or dragons.

But he could fight guilt.

He could fight the voices in your head that told you you weren't enough.

That was his dungeon. That was his battlefield.

And he was an S-rank in that arena.

Marcus walked out the door. He didn't look back at the plans on the floor.

He had a client to see.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.