Chapitre 77: I'm Nyla mother
Professor Devera's gaze bore into me like she was dissecting me with her mind. The room was eerily quiet now that the other students had left, save for the occasional hiss and pop from the bubbling cauldrons left behind.
Her grin, still wide and wild, made me feel like I was a particularly interesting potion ingredient she'd just discovered.
"So," she began, tilting her head slightly, her frizzy hair bouncing with the movement. "You're the one they've been talking about. Ren Khasar."
I nodded, unsure how to respond. My instincts told me to tread carefully.
Her grin softened into something more curious, her eyes scanning me like she was piecing together a puzzle. "Tell me, Ren. Are you friends with Nyla?"
My heart jolted at the mention of Nyla's name. My thoughts drifted to her bright smile and the way her energy always felt like a comforting hug.
I hadn't realized just how much I missed her until that moment. I nodded again, this time more firmly. "Yes, I am. She's... one of my friend well my only friend."
Professor Devera's grin widened again, but this time it held a warmth that hadn't been there before. She let out a small laugh and leaned back against one of the cluttered tables, crossing her arms.
"Well, isn't that something," she said, shaking her head slightly. "I had a feeling. Nyla's been talking about you nonstop ever since you left for high school. She's been sulking a bit, too, if I'm being honest."
Hearing that made my chest ache. I hadn't meant to leave Nyla behind, and knowing she missed me as much as I missed her made me feel a strange mix of guilt and relief.
"Wait," I said, frowning slightly. "How do you know Nyla?"
Professor Devera blinked at me, then let out a hearty laugh that echoed through the classroom. "How do I know her? Kid, I'm her mother."
I stared at her, completely stunned. The connection was so obvious now the fiery energy, the sharp wit but I hadn't put it together before. Nyla had never mentioned her mother was a potion-making professor with a penchant for chaos.
"You're her mom?" I said, my voice climbing a little higher than I intended.
"Guilty as charged," she said, holding up her hands like she was surrendering. "Don't worry, though. I don't embarrass her too much... at least, not in public."
I couldn't help but smile at that. It was so easy to imagine Nyla rolling her eyes at her mother's antics, trying to hide her own amusement.
Professor Devera pushed herself off the table and dusted off her hands. "Tell you what," she said, her tone shifting to something more casual. "I've got to pick Nyla up after this anyway. How about you come along? I'm sure she'd love to see you."
The offer took me by surprise. My first instinct was to say no I didn't want to impose, and I wasn't sure if seeing Nyla would make me feel better or worse.
But then I thought about her laugh, her comforting presence, and how much I'd missed having her by my side.
"I'd like that," I said softly.
Professor Devera's grin turned mischievous again. "Good. Let's get moving, then."
She didn't wait for a response, striding toward the door with a confidence that made it clear I had no choice but to follow. I hurried to catch up, my mind spinning with a mix of emotions.
The hallways were quieter now, most students having scattered to their next classes or their dorms.
Walking beside Professor Devera felt surreal she had an energy about her that made the air crackle, like something unexpected could happen at any moment.
"You know," she said as we walked, her voice breaking the silence, "Nyla's always been a bit of a whirlwind. But she's got a good heart. Stubborn as hell, though. Sound familiar?"
I gave her a sidelong glance. "Are you saying I'm stubborn?"
She laughed, a deep, genuine sound that made me smile despite myself. "Oh, absolutely. It's written all over you, kid. But that's not a bad thing. Stubbornness can be strength, as long as you know when to bend."
I wasn't entirely sure how to respond to that, so I settled for a small nod.
As we made our way out of the school building, the fresh air hit me like a cool balm after the stifling chaos of the classroom. The sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting a warm, golden light over the campus.
Professor Devera led the way to a sleek, dark carriage waiting near the front gate. The driver, a middle-aged man with a neatly trimmed beard, tipped his hat as we approached.
"Evening, Professor," he said with a polite nod.
"Evening, Gerrit," she replied, climbing into the carriage with ease. She turned back to me and motioned for me to follow. "Come on, Ren. Don't be shy."
I hesitated for only a moment before stepping inside. The interior was surprisingly spacious and luxurious, with plush seats and intricate detailing on the walls. It felt like stepping into another world.
As the carriage began to move, I found myself glancing out the window, watching the scenery blur past. My thoughts drifted back to Nyla, and I felt a pang of nervous excitement.
"So," Professor Devera said, breaking the silence, "what do you think of high school so far?"
I let out a small laugh. "It's... intense. Definitely not what I expected."
She raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Intense, huh? I'd say that's putting it lightly. But you're holding your own. Nyla always said you were tough."
Hearing that made me smile, though it was tinged with a bit of sadness. I wondered how different things might have been if I'd stayed in middle school with her.
The rest of the ride passed in relative silence, save for the occasional comment from Professor Devera about the importance of potion-making or some random anecdote about her students.
When the carriage finally came to a stop, my heart skipped a beat. We were in front of a smaller building, one that looked cozy and welcoming compared to the grand architecture of the high school.
"Come on," Professor Devera said, stepping out and motioning for me to follow.
As we approached the entrance, I felt a strange mix of excitement and nervousness. I wasn't sure what to expect, but the thought of seeing Nyla again made my chest feel lighter.
Professor Devera opened the door with a flourish, calling out in her usual exuberant tone. "Nyla! Look who I brought!"
The sound of footsteps echoed from down the hall, and my heart raced as I waited for her to appear.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone