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墨書 Inktalez
William was the only one who remained clear-headed amidst the disaster, or perhaps it was his deep-seated hatred for James that prevented him from being easily swayed by James's mysterious powers like everyone else. He could see clearly that James was now worshipped and followed by countless people, from students to professors, with hardly anyone expressing dissatisfaction with the charismatic and knowledgeable "new James." This collective admiration only fueled William's suspicion and vigilance.
In this abnormal environment, William felt as if he were isolated in another world. Once a supported young Department Chair at the academy, full of ambition and promise, he now sensed that everyone was gradually drifting away from him. His hostility grew stronger as he felt acutely that James was manipulating everything around him—but he could not voice it.
To those professors and students, William had become an outcast. No matter how he warned others about the dangers of James, no one believed him. James's charm and influence permeated the entire academy, spreading like an invisible plague. William's proposed plans were repeatedly overturned; the professors and students he invited always found various excuses to decline—some suddenly had "urgent matters," while others simply withdrew from the plans without even bothering to fabricate excuses. The national research project that William had meticulously planned now resembled a collapsing tower, with each brick slipping further away from him.
At times, William felt a profound sense of despair. He knew he was not fighting against an ordinary opponent; James was no longer that cunning and insidious scholar. He had transformed into something far more terrifying—he not only possessed extraordinary power but also controlled the minds of everyone in the academy, turning them into puppets at his disposal.
All of this plunged William into deep isolation. He constantly questioned whether he was going mad. Why could no one see through James's schemes? In the eyes of those under James's control, William had become the madman—the one who opposed the hero—which only intensified his anger and deepened his growing hatred.
He could not comprehend how this former colleague and now enemy had so easily reversed the situation. Whenever he clashed with James, James remained calm and collected, as if he could see through all of William's plans and effortlessly counter his attacks. What infuriated William even more was how seemingly effortless it all appeared.
William found himself utterly alone; all those colleagues he once relied on now distanced themselves from him. Their attitudes grew increasingly indifferent, even questioning whether William harbored unreasonable jealousy towards James. They could no longer hear his words, as if every warning he uttered had become a joke.
In the office of the Department of History, James shone like a dazzling sun, attracting countless students and professors to gather around him. They either eagerly begged him to be their advisor or desperately sought his involvement in their research projects. The sounds of laughter and excited discussions filled the office; the atmosphere was vibrant, as if establishing a connection with James guaranteed absolute success in their academic careers. Those who once supported William had now all turned to James, displaying near-fanatical respect for every word he spoke.
Sitting aside, William felt as though he were isolated from this grand feast. Leaning against his desk, he stared gloomily at the crowd surrounding James. His heart churned with resentment and anger; the glory that should have been his had been snatched away by James. Once upon a time, these students and professors had surrounded him, listened to his guidance, respected him, and looked forward to his leadership toward success. But now everything had changed. James, this once-silent old scholar, had quietly risen to this position through some unknown mysterious power, stealing away all of William's accolades.
William clenched his fists tightly under the desk, knuckles cracking softly. His heart brimmed with an uncontrollable hatred; this intense emotion churned within him like molten lava. He could even feel his anger igniting with every breath he took, causing his chest to rise and fall violently as he struggled to suppress the impulse to stand up and charge at James right then and there. The image in his mind was terrifyingly vivid—him grasping James by the throat, biting through his artery as blood sprayed forth while tearing at James's body like a wild dog, shredding this hypocritical figure into a bloody mess. That vision filled him with a frenzied excitement, but rationality kept that impulse firmly locked away.
He knew he could not act on such thoughts—not in such a setting or before so many people. Even so, that deeply rooted desire for murder coiled around his reason like a venomous snake. William understood that this sense of injustice and hatred would not easily dissipate—they would follow him like shadows until he found a way to reclaim what was rightfully his.
Standing before the mirror in the restroom, light illuminated his weary face, highlighting every wrinkle and strand of gray hair glaringly. He scrutinized his reflection; how confident and radiant he once was! In the rankings among professors in the Department of History, he had always been synonymous with charm and talent—beloved by students and colleagues alike for both his academic prowess and appearance; he had been the center of attention for everyone. Back then, William truly embodied the heart of the Department of History.
However, what reflected in the mirror now was an aging face he was reluctant to acknowledge. A few strands of white hair at his temples pricked at his eyes like thorns, and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes stood out starkly under the dim light. He tried to smooth those wrinkles, running his fingers over his temples, a wave of bitterness washing over him. Was his once handsome visage still there? He worked hard to stay fit and maintain his appearance, striving to look as attractive as ever, but time was relentless. It had left its marks on his face, making it impossible for him to ignore the fact that he was already in his forties.
In the mirror, his gaze grew increasingly hollow and dim. William couldn't help but think of James—the professor who had once seemed old and frail but had suddenly rejuvenated, becoming the center of attention for everyone. James's youthful face and energetic demeanor filled William with doubt and confusion. Was this truly a world that valued appearances? Was a youthful exterior the only key to winning hearts? Had all the reputation and fame he had painstakingly built over the years been completely lost due to these wrinkles and gray hairs?
Dark thoughts began to spread in William's mind, deep resentment enveloping every inch of his contemplation like an invisible fog. James's rise felt like a thorn piercing his heart, a pain he could not ignore. The glory and confidence he once possessed had turned into countless fragments, appearing so small and powerless in James's shadow.
"Is this really why I've lost people's favor?" William bitterly questioned himself, his voice barely audible. His fists slowly clenched tight as resentment surged within him like a tidal wave. He resented time, he resented James, he resented everything that had brought him to this situation.
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