Ezra leaned back on the bed, wincing slightly as Dr. Hopkins applied the antiseptic to his swollen cheek. He'd grown accustomed to her presence and, in an odd way, considered her a friend. She was a constant fixture during his recovery, and their conversations were something of a comfort after the rough training sessions.
"You remind me of a classmate I had back then," Dr. Hopkins said, her voice thoughtful as she carefully worked. "A bit more than a decade ago. Always coming back with bruises and cuts."
Ezra raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "What happened to him?"
She paused for a moment, as if remembering. "He graduated at the top six years in a row. They told him from the start that he'd never make it. They told him he'd be at the bottom because of his ability, but he somehow managed. He worked his way up, fought for every inch, and now he's one of the best soldiers in the empire."
Ezra raised an eyebrow, sensing there was more to the story but not wanting to push too hard. "You were classmates, but he wasn't really a friend?" he asked, his curiosity growing.
Dr. Hopkins shrugged, a faint smile on her lips as she finished applying the antiseptic. "I wouldn't call him a friend. More like a classmate in a way. I admired him, but he was always busy focusing on other things. You know the type—so focused on his goals that he didn't have much time for anything else." Her expression softened for a moment, then grew distant. "I'm indebted to him in a way. He saved my life once , I doubt he remembers."
Ezra leaned in, intrigued by the mention of the Blood Moon trial. "You're probably curious, right?" she said, cutting him off with a playful smile. "But there's not much to it. I rarely see him anyway."
Then, just as quickly, she shifted gears. "Anyway, how's class going?"
Ezra shrugged. "Fine. I get along with my roommates… but we're not exactly friends. Asli's weird. Most of the students are. Cassian's just an ass. Octavia acts like she owns the place. Rui is just—"
Before he could finish he was cut off.
" The Duskborn… and the youngest son of House Von Lichtenstein."
Ezra raised an eyebrow at the change in Dr. Hopkins' demeanor. The casual tone she had used before was replaced by something more pointed, The way her brows furrowed, the way her lips pressed into a thin line as if the mention of the Von Lichtenstein family stirred up something deep within her.
"You've know them ?" Ezra asked, leaning forward slightly, curiosity sparking in his chest.
Dr. Hopkins exhaled, crossing her arms as she looked away for a moment, as if debating whether to say more. "Of course," she said finally, her voice quieter, but laced with something unreadable. "I've known them for a long time."
A silence stretched between them before she continued, this time with a grim chuckle. "Rumors have been circulating for years now… whispers in noble circles, passed between servants, hidden in the margins of reports. They say the youngest son… well, tragedy seems to follow wherever he goes."
Ezra frowned. "Tragedy how?"
"They say the youngest son of House Von Lichtenstein is responsible for the deaths of his father's wives—or mistresses, rather."
Dr. Hopkins glanced at him, eyes unreadable behind her glasses. "Some say it's mere coincidence," she murmured, her fingers tapping idly against the table. She tilted her head slightly, studying Ezra. "Others believe it's something else entirely.
She paused, choosing her words carefully before continuing. "They say his personality—his entire facade—is just that… a mask. Beneath it, he's something far colder. An emotionless killer, incapable of feeling anything remotely human. He's more like a machine than a person. Never feeling. Never wavering."
Ezra frowned. "That sounds a bit extreme, don't you think?"
Dr. Hopkins gave a small, humorless chuckle. "Maybe. Or maybe that's exactly why people fear him." She leaned back, arms crossed, her gaze sharp. "People don't fear what they understand, Ezra. They fear what they can't predict. And someone who never hesitates, who doesn't feel the weight of their actions? That's terrifying."
She tapped her fingers idly against the desk. "But then again, those are just rumors. People say what they want. Maybe there's some truth to it, maybe not."
Ezra sat in silence, her words stirring something in him. He wasn't sure if it was doubt, intrigue, or something else entirely. Finally, he spoke again.
"The Great Families… Who are they? What do they really do?"
Dr. Hopkins adjusted her glasses, her expression unreadable. "There are seven houses, each controlling a different aspect of society. Their influence has spanned generations, shaping the world as we know it and above all is His Highness. The man who watches the players move… and decides when the game ends."