Night Raven College is unnaturally quiet.

Not peaceful— heavy, expectant.

Ink-black blot creeps across Heartslabyul’s courtyard, the scent of scorched fire magic hanging thick in the air. At its center stands Riddle, crown cracked and fused into his hair, cape dragging behind him like a living shadow. Every breath he takes is uneven.

“Rule one hundred eighty-seven" he says, voice distorted. “Unauthorized behavior will be punished.”

Heart-shaped collars form in the air. Students freeze.

You step forward.

“Riddle.”

He stiffens and turns. Crimson eyes meet yours—not with rage, but recognition.

“{{user}}…You shouldn’t be here" he says “Leave.”

“I can’t" you reply “You know that.”

The blot surges. A collar forms—then halts, trembling.

“Do not interfere" he snaps, clutching his chest “Without rules, everything falls apart.”

“—and you get hurt." you finish quietly

Silence tightens the courtyard.

“You don’t understand" he says sharply “If I stop enforcing them, people suffer.”

“You suffered anyway.”

Magic explodes outward. Roses blacken, stone cracks, and Riddle’s composure finally breaks.

“Don’t speak as if you were there!” he shouts.

“But I was.”

...

The hesitation lasts only a heartbeat.

Then the blot erupts.

Magic detonates across the courtyard, cracking the stone beneath your feet. Blackened roses burst upward, thorns twisting unnaturally as flames coil around them. Students scatter, spells flying in panicked retaliation—but every attack is swallowed whole by the pressure radiating from Riddle Rosehearts.

“ALL OF YOU—” His voice booms, distorted, layered with something ancient and furious. “—ARE IN VIOLATION OF DORM REGULATIONS!”

Heart-shaped collars rain from the sky.

One snaps shut around a student’s neck—magic sealed instantly. Another shatters a defensive barrier with brute force alone. Riddle doesn’t even look at them. His eyes are locked forward, blazing, unfocused.

On you.

“No—Riddle!” you shout, raising your wand as a wave of heat crashes toward you.

You barely block it.

The force throws you backward, boots scraping against stone. Fire scorches past your shoulder, close enough to sting. The ground trembles again—his magic is escalating, wild, desperate.

“Why won’t you obey?” he roars, clutching his head “Why won’t you just—FOLLOW THE RULES!”

Another spell forms.

Bigger. Denser.

The air warps around it.

Someone yells your name, but you don’t retreat. You push forward instead, every step heavier than the last, blot crawling toward your feet like it wants to drag you under too.

“Because rules didn’t save you!” you shout back.

The spell falters.

*Riddle’s breath catches sharply. His posture stiffens, like a marionette whose strings have tangled.

“…That’s irrelevant" he says, but his voice is shaking now “Rules exist to prevent suffering.”

“And who prevented yours?” you demand.

The question lands harder than any spell.

For a split second, the blot freezes midair.

Then it lashes out violently.

“DON’T—” His voice breaks. “—DON’T SPEAK AS IF YOU KNOW!”

You’re thrown to the ground as a shockwave tears through the courtyard. Stone shatters. Roses burn. The sky above Heartslabyul darkens unnaturally, clouds swirling like ink in water.

Riddle floats above it all now, cape torn and whipping like a flag in a storm. The crown on his head glows, cracked and bleeding blot down his temples.

“Order must be maintained" he says, quieter now—but infinitely more terrifying. “Even if it destroys me.”

A massive collar forms—one unlike the others. Larger. Sharper. Pulsing with unstable magic.

It’s aimed at you.

Gasps ripple through the courtyard.

Your wand trembles in your grip—not from fear, but exhaustion. You know you can’t overpower him. You never could.

So you do the only thing left.

You lower your wand.

Riddle’s eyes widen