Beast Gacha System: All Mine-Chapter 129: School Days

The Edengold capital residence was just as opulent as you’d expect, built from marble and imported hardwood. It stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the palaces of other great nobles and kings.

The Imperial family had gifted them all, of course, a magnanimous gesture to any noble human or beast-kingdom ruler with any kind of positive relationship with them.

It came with a price, naturally. These mansions arrived fully staffed with a small army of servants whose first loyalty was stamped with the imperial seal.

The residences were basically beautifully appointed surveillance posts for these connections, connections positive enough to be worth monitoring. A roof over your head in the heart of power, with the walls pre-installed with ears.

Eastiel knew. Everyone who mattered knew. But refusing the "gift" would be a diplomatic incident, a declaration of paranoia or, worse, guilt. So you accepted the gilded cage and then set about quietly changing the locks.

You bought the loyalty of some, intimidated the curiosity out of others, and replaced the innermost staff, the ones who handled your food, your clothes, your private spaces, with people whose blood oaths were to your clan, not the empire.

The rest, the legion of footmen, gardeners, and scullery maids? You let them stay. Let them listen to the echoes in the vast halls. What were they going to hear? The clink of glasses, the murmur of polite conversation, the footsteps of a king pacing?

The real secrets were buried much deeper.

They were, in the end, just employees. Most wouldn’t risk their necks to uncover a plot unless specifically ordered. So the difference was minimal.

The only tangible effect was that the walls in these mansions were perhaps a little less soundproof than one might hope, the servants’ gossip a little more informed by imperial gossip circles. That was it.

"Don’t worry," Eastiel murmured, his voice a low vibration against her temple as he guided her through the grand, echoing foyer. The cavernous space was lit by flickering sconces, their light glinting off polished suits of ceremonial armor.

"At this hour... there’ll be no outside servants skulking in the private halls."

Cecilia glanced around. "But your inner servants are still here, though..." she whispered back.

Eastiel’s grin in the semi-darkness was pure predator. "Mm, so?"

He moved then, a lion pouncing on a prize he intended to savor. His hands, which had been guiding her, became claiming. But Cecilia twisted suddenly, something he hadn’t anticipated.

RIIIIP—

The sound was shockingly loud in the hushed grandeur of the hall. It was a violent tear of expensive silk and delicate embroidery.

"Ah!" Cecilia gasped, more in surprise than distress, as she spun free from his grasp.

Eastiel stared, stunned for a half-second at the empty air where she’d been, at the long shred of plum-colored fabric now dangling from his fingers. Then a growl of frustrated desire rumbled in his chest. He lunged for her again.

Her mirthful giggle, bright and breathless, rang through the marble space like shattering crystal. She was already darting away. And from many vantage points, some could see flashes of torn silk and pale limbs.

"Beast!" she squealed.

She hit the bottom of the grand, curving staircase and flew upwards, her feet barely touching the polished steps. The torn skirt of her dress fluttered behind her, offering tantalizing glimpses of calf and thigh.

Her blonde hair, freed from its pins, streamed behind her in the dim light. The grand stairwell framed her perfectly. A fleeing goddess in a ravaged gown.

"Help!" she cried out, her voice echoing up to the vaulted ceiling, full of faux distress.

As expected, a few heads peeked out from doorways down the corridors. The trusted inner servants, sworn to the Edengold lion. They took one look at the scene, their furious, grinning lord holding a strip of his lady’s dress, and the lady herself laughing as she fled upstairs crying for aid.

Instantly, faces flushed and they ducked back into the shadows. But who was to say they wouldn’t whisper and giggle about it later in the safety of the servants’ hall? Allegiance didn’t erase human nature.

Eastiel didn’t even glance their way. All his focus was on the vision ascending the stairs. His breathing was ragged now, each inhale scraping against the wildfire in his veins. He took the steps two at a time.

"You were so shy just now..." he called up. "Why suddenly call for help now, hmm?"

Cecilia squealed as she made a leaping bound for the top of the stairs. Her shoes flew from her feet as he lunged, his fingers grazing her ankle but closing on empty air. He crouched on the final steps, a golden predator on all fours, poised to spring.

"Your Majesty—" she gasped, twisting to look back at him, her chest heaving, a wild grin on her face. "Chasing a lady like this, where’s your dignit—"

"Who’s ’Your Majesty’?" he growled, pushing off the floor, his voice a low thunder that vibrated in the hall. "You said I’m a beast."

"AH! Ah!" Her protest dissolved into breathless laughter as she scrambled backwards on her hands, then spun and sprinted down the opulent hallway. Her laughter and squeals echoing off the portraits of stern-faced Edengold ancestors. "East, stop—please, please—Aaahhh!"

He was on her in three powerful strides, not running so much as flowing across the distance, a force of nature given form. His arm snaked around her waist, hauling her back against the solid wall of his chest.

"You—" he began, his mouth at her ear, but she was already wriggling. "Don’t you dare use telekinesis to—"

Her eyes lost focus for a split-second, a familiar, distant look he knew all too well. A look that meant she was talking to it. The other entity that lived in her head.

"System—" she gasped. "Begin the scenario no—"

"Cec—!"

***

RIRIRIRIRING!

The air changed.

It was cooler, carrying the dense, comforting scent of old paper, beeswax, damp stone, and the faint, ozone tang of latent magic.

The light was different now. A dusty, golden gloom streamed in through towering, leaded glass windows, each pane depicting intricate constellations, alchemical symbols, and the silhouettes of mythical beasts.

Outside, a perpetual, misty twilight clung to ancient, creeper-choked walls and sweeping, rain-slicked lawns.

A vast, vaulted hall looked like the ribcage of a stone giant. Long tables of dark oak ran its length, scarred by generations of student knives and scorched by spilled potions.

Above, floating candles hovered in an enchanted constellation, their flames burning with a steady, silent light, casting long, dancing shadows from the countless stone gargoyles and carved scholars that peered down from the heights.

"Alright, wait a minute. Are we not worried about the copyright, System?"

[Don’t summon the copyright police, Cecilia! Keep it vague!]

A massive, crackling fireplace large enough to roast an ox dominated one wall, its flames the only source of true warmth and dynamic color in the grey-gold atmosphere.

This was Scholomance Athenaeum, or simply "the Athenaeum" to those who knew it. A bastion of dark academia where the children of empire nobles, rising merchant houses, and even the scions of distant foreign clans came to hone the arts of governance, magic, and intrigue.

A place of whispered debates in forgotten corridors, of illicit romances sparked over shared grimoires, of ambition as thick as the ivy on its walls.

Cecilia sat at one of the long, empty tables. She was now clad in a tailored, charcoal-grey tunic and mini skirt, the Athenaeum crest, a stylized crow clutching a key and a sword, embroidered over her heart.

Her hair was tied back in a messy bun, and she was wearing a pair of round glasses. Before her lay open textbooks filled with dense, spidery script and complex geometrical diagrams.

"Hey! The bell rang, let’s get to class, you deadweights!" someone yelled, followed by a shove.

"Shut up, loser!" came the immediate retort, accompanied by the sound of a bag hitting the floor.

The tide of bodies swirled around the table. Then, a shadow fell across Cecilia’s textbook. A boy with his tie loosened and his uniform jacket hanging off one shoulder loomed over her. He had a sneer that tried too hard.

"Hey, nerd," he reached down and snatched the heavy tome right from under her pen. "Take care of my homework, will ya? Professor Ialdi’s runic translations are a drag—" His eyes, which had been on the book, flicked up to her face. He blinked. The sneer faltered. "—Damn! What? You’re kinda cu—When did you get so pretty, girl?"

Before Cecilia could even react, another hand shot out.

GRAB!

A young man from behind the first bully snatched the textbook back. The motion was sharp, but not too fast to break his nonchalance. He didn’t look at Cecilia as he threw the book back in front of her.

"She’s always been pretty, dumbass."

It was Eastiel. But not her Eastiel. A younger, sharper version, his golden hair trimmed shorter at the sides, his expression was of arrogant disdain.

He wore the same uniform, but on him, it looked effortlessly cool and messy. He stood with the easy grace of someone who owned the space around him.

He scoffed. 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ𝓋𝑒𝑙.𝑐𝘰𝑚

"Are you blind?"