Chapter 752 - Translation

<h1>Chapter 752 171.5 - Catching Up</h1><p>Chapter 752 171.5 - Catching Up</p><p>"Was the training with the Headmaster helpful?"</p><p>The words caught her so off-guard that her grip on the fork wavered, her breath hitching as her thoughts scrambled for an explanation. How could he possibly know? She hadn't told anyone—not Jasmine, not her classmates, no one. The Headmaster himself had suggested keeping the training discreet, yet here Astron was, speaking as if it were an open secret.</p><p>Her emerald eyes widened briefly, betraying her surprise before she could school her expression. She lowered her gaze, carefully setting her fork down to regain some semblance of control. Her heart raced as she tried to steady herself, but the stillness at the table felt oppressive, magnified by Astron's calm, piercing gaze.</p><p>He wasn't pressing her. He didn't need to. His silence was enough, a quiet challenge that made her chest tighten. He knows. How does he know? Her fingers curled against the edge of the table, her grip tightening as she fought to suppress her reaction, but even that felt like an admission of guilt. She was trying to act composed, but she had a sinking feeling that Astron had already seen too much.</p><p>When she finally looked up, his gaze hadn't wavered. Those calm, purple eyes were fixed on her, steady and unwavering, as though they were dissecting her every movement. For a moment, Sylvie felt completely exposed, as if the careful layers she had built to protect herself had been stripped away with a single question.</p><p>"I… I think so," she said at last, her voice soft, hesitant. The words felt flimsy even as she spoke them. "The Headmaster has been… encouraging."</p><p>The second the word "encouraging" left her lips, she wanted to cringe. It sounded weak, vague—nothing like the intense reality of what she had endured during her training. Those sessions had been grueling, pushing her far beyond her limits. They had been transformative in ways she was still grappling with. And yet, she couldn't bring herself to say any of that aloud.</p><p>Astron tilted his head slightly, his gaze unflinching. His calm expression betrayed nothing, yet there was something about his posture, the way his attention remained locked on her, that made Sylvie feel like he was unraveling her with his eyes.</p><p>"You really… How did you know?" she finally asked, her voice softer now, edged with both curiosity and unease. She hated how vulnerable she sounded, how much the question revealed about her inner turmoil. But she couldn't help it—she needed to know.</p><p>Astron leaned back slightly in his chair, his demeanor as composed as ever. "It was just a guess," he said, his tone calm, deliberate. "And it appears I was correct, thanks to your reaction."</p><p>A flush of heat rushed to Sylvie's cheeks, her embarrassment blooming as her mind raced. A guess? The realization made her stomach twist. She had practically handed him confirmation, and now she felt even more exposed. She shifted in her seat, her hands dropping to her lap as she clasped them tightly together.</p><p>Why does he always do this? she thought, biting the inside of her cheek. Why does he always make me feel like I'm under a microscope, even when I'm the one asking the questions?</p><p>Her thoughts spiraled as she stabbed absently at her plate, her appetite fading beneath the weight of her unease. She replayed the exchange in her mind, each moment feeling like a quiet defeat. And yet, despite the frustration simmering in her chest, she couldn't deny the faint thread of admiration she felt.</p><p>Astron's calm was infuriating, yes, but it was also undeniably impressive. The way he read her so easily, the way he seemed so in control of himself and his surroundings—it was unlike anyone else she had ever met. No matter how much he unsettled her, Sylvie couldn't help but wonder how he did it. And, though she hated to admit it, part of her wanted to understand him better. Because in his unshakable calm, there was a strength she couldn't help but envy.</p><p>Sylvie's cheeks flushed a deeper red as the weight of Astron's words settled over her. Her hands darted to her lap, fingers fidgeting nervously as she struggled to process what he had just said. "Oh…" she murmured, her voice barely audible. "I… I didn't mean to—"</p><p>He cut her off with a faint shake of his head, his gaze steady and unwavering. "Sylvie," he said, his voice low but firm, carrying the weight of quiet authority. "You need to be more careful. These types of scenarios are going to happen again—likely with people far less trustworthy than me."</p><p>The words struck a chord within her, and she instinctively looked down, her embarrassment morphing into a quieter, deeper form of introspection. Her fingers curled tighter against the edge of the table, the soft hum of her [Authority] brushing against the calm wall of his presence. There was no malice in his tone, only a quiet truth that left her feeling exposed but strangely motivated.</p><p>He let the silence linger just long enough before speaking again. "Control over your powers is important," he said, his tone softening slightly, "but control over your emotions is equally important. If you allow yourself to react too openly, people will read you, and they'll use that against you."</p><p>Sylvie's shoulders stiffened at the gravity of his words. He wasn't wrong—he never was when it came to matters like this—but hearing it aloud, spelled out so clearly, made her feel like her vulnerability was laid bare. Her chest tightened with a mixture of frustration and resolve. He's right. I can't keep letting myself be this easy to read.</p><p>Her fingers tightened around the table's edge again, but this time there was a shift in her posture, a faint but undeniable change. Her spine straightened, and when she finally lifted her gaze to meet his, her emerald eyes held a spark of quiet determination. "You're right," she said softly, her voice carrying a steadiness that hadn't been there before. "I'll… I'll work on it."</p><p>Astron gave her a faint nod of acknowledgment, his expression still unreadable but tinged with the slightest hint of approval. "Good," he said simply. "Awakening your powers has already changed the way others perceive you. Your growth is rapid, and people will notice—friends and enemies alike. The more composed you are, the harder it will be for them to manipulate or predict you."</p><p>Sylvie pressed her lips into a thin line, the weight of his words sinking deeper into her thoughts. She could feel the truth of them, not just in the abstract sense, but in the way people had already begun treating her differently. The Headmaster's training had pushed her into uncharted territory, forcing her to grow quickly and adapt. But it had also placed her under a sharper lens—one that others might use against her if she wasn't careful.</p><p>"I understand," she said quietly, her voice tinged with resolve. "I'll do better."</p><p>Astron studied her for a moment longer, as if measuring the sincerity of her response. Then, with a slight nod, he returned his focus to his meal. He didn't press her further, his calm demeanor unshaken, but the weight of his words lingered in the air between them.</p><p>Sylvie returned her attention to her plate, her appetite now a distant thought as her mind churned with the implications of their conversation. Astron's insight, as always, was precise and unflinching, and while it stung to have her weaknesses laid bare, it also sparked something deeper—a drive to prove herself. To the Headmaster, to herself, and most importantly to this guy.</p><p>Sylvie set her fork down, her fingers resting lightly on the edge of her tray as she steadied her nerves. Astron's calm composure had always felt like an impenetrable wall, but now that the conversation had shifted toward her training and growth, a spark of determination ignited in her chest. If he had noticed her changes so easily, she had every right to question his as well.</p><p>She took a quiet breath, gathering her thoughts, before speaking. "Astron," she began, her voice soft but steady. His purple eyes flicked up to meet hers, calm and attentive as always, though she noticed a faint glint of curiosity in his gaze.</p><p>"What kind of training did you go through over the break?" she asked, keeping her tone light but deliberate. "You've changed a lot too. Just like how you've observed my improvements, it's hard not to notice yours."</p><p>For a moment, Astron didn't respond, his gaze fixed on her as though weighing the intent behind her question. Then, he leaned back slightly, setting his spoon down with a quiet clink. "You've noticed, huh?" he said, his tone even, though there was a faint hint of amusement in his words.</p><p>Sylvie nodded, feeling a mix of relief and tension as he acknowledged her observation. "It's not just physical," she added quickly, her emerald eyes narrowing slightly. "You're stronger—not just in terms of power, but… presence. You carry yourself differently now."</p><p>Astron's calm purple eyes held Sylvie's gaze for a moment longer before he spoke. "You've improved a lot," he said evenly, his voice carrying a faint hint of approval.</p><p>Sylvie's lips curved into a small smile at his words. There was something gratifying about hearing that from him, given how much she had pushed herself during the break. But she wasn't about to let him shift the focus. Not now.</p><p>"I'm glad you think so," she replied, her tone light but deliberate. "But you're not getting off that easily, Astron. I asked about your training. I'm not letting you dodge the question."</p><p>Astron's lips quirked slightly, not quite a smile but close enough to make Sylvie blink in surprise. "You're persistent," he said softly, leaning back in his chair. His sharp gaze remained on her, steady and thoughtful.</p><p>"I trained," he began simply, his voice low but carrying a quiet weight. "And it was… difficult. Gruesome, in some ways."</p><p>Sylvie frowned slightly, her curiosity piqued but tinged with concern. "Gruesome?"</p><p>Astron nodded, his expression calm but distant. "You wouldn't want to know the details," he said matter-of-factly. "Let's just say it wasn't the kind of training most people could endure."</p><p>Sylvie's chest tightened at his words, the quiet certainty in his tone leaving no room for doubt. Knowing Astron, she didn't question him. He wasn't someone who exaggerated or sought attention. If he said it was gruesome, she believed him.</p><p>Her gaze softened slightly as she studied him, the faint tension in her shoulders easing. Astron had always been someone who could endure pain and hardship without complaint, someone who carried his burdens with a quiet strength that set him apart. It was one of the things she admired most about him, even if it sometimes made him feel distant.</p><p>"I believe you," she said softly, her voice carrying a note of sincerity. "You're the type who could handle that… even if you shouldn't have to."</p><p>Astron tilted his head slightly at her words, his expression unreadable. "Pain is just another form of growth," he said simply. "You either endure it and become stronger, or you let it break you. There's no in-between."</p><p>Sylvie felt her chest tighten again, her thoughts flickering to her own struggles during the break. The Headmaster's relentless training, the moments when she thought she couldn't push any further, only to find herself standing at the edge of a breakthrough. She understood what Astron meant, even if the way he said it felt almost too detached, too matter-of-fact.</p><p>"I get that," she said quietly, her gaze dropping to her tray for a moment before she looked back at him. "But- "</p><p>Her words were stopped by someone.</p><p>"Junior."</p><p>By a voice, to be exact.</p>

**Chapitre 752 171.5 - Rattrapage** « L’entraînement avec le Directeur t’a été utile ? » La question la frappa de plein fouet, au point que sa fourchette faillit glisser de ses doigts. Sa respiration se bloqua net tandis que son esprit s’emballait, cherchant désespérément une explication. *Comment peut-il savoir ça ?* Elle n’en avait parlé à personne—ni à Jasmine, ni à ses camarades, absolument personne. Le Directeur lui-même avait insisté pour que ces séances restent discrètes, et pourtant Astron en parlait avec une désinvolture exaspérante, comme si c’était un secret de Polichinelle. Ses yeux émeraude s’écarquillèrent brièvement, trahissant sa stupéfaction avant qu’elle ne parvienne à reprendre le contrôle de son expression. Elle baissa les paupières, reposant délicatement sa fourchette pour masquer son trouble. Son cœur tambourinait contre ses côtes, et bien qu’elle tentât de se calmer, le silence pesant qui régnait à table ne faisait qu’amplifier son malaise, surtout sous le regard impassible et pénétrant d’Astron. Il ne la pressait pas. Il n’en avait même pas besoin. Son silence seul suffisait—un défi muet qui lui serrait la poitrine. *Il sait. Mais comment ?* Ses doigts se crispèrent sur le rebord de la table, ses ongles s’enfonçant légèrement dans le bois tandis qu’elle luttait pour contenir sa réaction. Pourtant, même cette tentative de contrôle ressemblait à un aveu. Elle essayait de paraître impassible, mais quelque chose lui disait qu’Astron avait déjà tout compris. Lorsqu’elle releva finalement les yeux, son regard n’avait pas faibli. Ces prunelles violettes, froides et inébranlables, restaient braquées sur elle, analysant chacun de ses micro-mouvements comme un prédateur étudiant sa proie. Pendant un bref instant, Sylvie se sentit complètement mise à nu, comme si toutes les couches de protection qu’elle avait patiemment érigées autour d’elle venaient d’être balayées par une simple question. « Je... je crois, oui », finit-elle par répondre, d’une voix à peine plus qu’un murmure, fragile et hésitante. Les mots lui semblaient creux en sortant de sa bouche. « Le Directeur a été... encourageant. » Dès que le terme « encourageant » franchit ses lèvres, elle eut envie de grimacer. Cela sonnait tellement fade, tellement évasif—rien à voir avec la réalité brutale de ce qu’elle avait enduré. Ces séances avaient été éprouvantes, la poussant bien au-delà de ses limites connues. Elles l’avaient transformée, d’une manière qu’elle commençait à peine à saisir. Et pourtant, elle était incapable de l’exprimer clairement. Astron inclina légèrement la tête, son visage toujours aussi inexpressif. Rien dans son attitude ne trahissait la moindre émotion, mais il y avait quelque chose dans sa posture, dans la façon dont son attention restait irrémédiablement accrochée à elle, qui donnait à Sylvie l’impression d’être disséquée fibre par fibre sous son regard. « Vraiment... Comment as-tu su ? » demanda-t-elle enfin, d’une voix plus douce, teintée d’une curiosité mêlée de trouble. Elle détestait ce ton vulnérable, tout ce que cette question révélait de son agitation intérieure. Mais elle ne pouvait s’en empêcher—elle *devait* savoir. Astron se pencha légèrement en arrière, son maintien aussi détendu que toujours. « Une simple supposition », répondit-il d’un ton égal et mesuré. « Et il semble que j’avais raison, vu ta réaction. » Une vague de chaleur envahit les joues de Sylvie, son embarras éclatant au grand jour tandis que son esprit tourbillonnait. *Une supposition ?* La réalisation lui tordit l’estomac. Elle lui avait pratiquement servi la confirmation sur un plateau d’argent, et maintenant, elle se sentait encore plus exposée. Elle se tortilla sur sa chaise, ses mains retombant sur ses genoux qu’elle serra fermement. *Pourquoi est-ce qu’il fait toujours ça ?* songea-t-elle en mordillant l’intérieur de sa joue. *Pourquoi est-ce que j’ai toujours l’impression d’être sous un microscope, même quand c’est moi qui pose les questions ?* Son esprit s’emballa tandis qu’elle piquait distraitement son assiette, son appétit complètement évaporé sous le poids de son malaise. Elle repassa mentalement chaque instant de leur échange, chaque micro-expression, et réalisa avec amertume que cela ressemblait à une défaite silencieuse. Et pourtant, malgré la frustration qui bouillonnait en elle, elle ne pouvait nier ce petit fil d’admiration qui persistait. Le calme d’Astron était exaspérant, certes, mais indéniablement impressionnant. La façon dont il la lisait avec une telle facilité, dont il semblait maîtriser chaque interaction—c’était unique. Peu importe à quel point il la déstabilisait, Sylvie ne pouvait s’empêcher de se demander *comment* il y parvenait. Et, aussi réticente qu’elle fût à l’admettre, une partie d’elle voulait percer son mystère. Parce que dans cette sérénité inébranlable se cachait une force qu’elle ne pouvait s’empêcher d’envier. Les joues de Sylvie s’empourprèrent davantage tandis que les paroles d’Astron s’ancraient en elle. Ses mains se crispèrent sur ses genoux, ses doigts s’agitant nerveusement tandis qu’elle peinait à digérer ses mots. « Oh... », murmura-t-elle, d’une voix à peine audible. « Je... je ne voulais pas— » Il l’interrompit d’un léger mouvement de tête, son regard empreint d’une autorité tranquille. « Sylvie », dit-il, d’une voix basse mais ferme. « Tu dois être plus prudente. Ce genre de situation se reproduira—avec des personnes bien moins dignes de confiance que moi. » Les mots résonnèrent en elle, et elle baissa instinctivement les yeux, son embarras se muant en une introspection plus profonde. Ses doigts se refermèrent plus fort sur le bord de la table, le léger bourdonnement de son [Autorité] frôlant la barrière impassible de sa présence. Il n’y avait aucune malice dans son ton, juste une vérité crue qui la laissait vulnérable mais étrangement motivée. Il laissa le silence s’installer juste assez longtemps avant de reprendre. « La maîtrise de tes pouvoirs est importante », dit-il, son ton s’adoucissant imperceptiblement, « mais la maîtrise de tes émotions l’est tout autant. Si tu réagis trop ouvertement, les gens te liront et s’en serviront contre toi. » Les épaules de Sylvie se raidirent sous le poids de ses paroles. Il n’avait pas tort—il ne l’était jamais sur ces sujets—mais l’entendre ainsi, formulé si clairement, donnait l’impression que sa vulnérabilité était étalée au grand jour. Sa poitrine se serra, mêlant frustration et détermination. *Il a raison. Je ne peux pas continuer à être si transparente.* Ses doigts se resserrèrent à nouveau sur le bord de la table, mais cette fois, sa posture changea subtilement. Son dos se redressa, et lorsqu’elle releva finalement les yeux vers lui, ses prunelles émeraude scintillèrent d’une détermination nouvelle. « Tu as raison », dit-elle doucement, sa voix empreinte d’une assurance absente auparavant. « Je vais... travailler là-dessus. » Astron lui accorda un léger hochement de tête, son expression toujours impénétrable mais teintée d’une infime approbation. « Bien », dit-il simplement. « L’éveil de tes pouvoirs a déjà changé ta perception par les autres. Ta croissance est rapide, et on le remarquera—amis comme ennemis. Plus tu seras maîtresse de toi, moins ils pourront te manipuler ou te prédire. » Sylvie pinça les lèvres, ses paroles s’enfonçant plus profondément dans ses pensées. Elle en percevait la vérité, pas seulement de manière abstraite, mais dans la façon dont on la traitait déjà différemment. L’entraînement du Directeur l’avait propulsée en territoire inconnu, l’obligeant à grandir à un rythme effréné. Mais cela l’avait aussi placée sous les projecteurs—et d’autres pourraient en profiter. « Je comprends », dit-elle calmement, sa voix marquée par une résolution nouvelle. « Je ferai mieux. » Astron l’étudia un instant de plus, comme pour jauger la sincérité de sa réponse. Puis, d’un léger signe de tête, il retourna à son repas. Il n’insista pas, son calme restant immuable, mais le poids de ses mots planait entre eux, lourd de sens. Sylvie reporta son attention sur son assiette, son appétit maintenant oublié tandis que son esprit digérait leur conversation. La perspicacité d’Astron, comme toujours, était précise et sans concession, et si cela piquait de voir ses faiblesses exposées, cela attisait aussi quelque chose de plus profond—une envie de se prouver. Au Directeur. À elle-même. Et surtout, à *lui*. Sylvie reposa sa fourchette, ses doigts effleurant le bord de son plateau pour calmer ses nerfs. La sérénité d’Astron avait toujours semblé être un mur infranchissable, mais maintenant que la conversation avait glissé vers son entraînement, une étincelle de détermination s’alluma en elle. *S’il a si facilement remarqué mes changements, alors j’ai bien le droit de questionner les siens.* Elle prit une inspiration discrète, rassemblant ses pensées, avant de parler. « Astron », commença-t-elle, d’une voix douce mais stable. Ses yeux violets se levèrent vers les siens, calmes et attentifs comme toujours, bien qu’elle y perçût une lueur de curiosité. « Quel genre d’entraînement as-tu suivi pendant les vacances ? » demanda-t-elle, gardant un ton léger mais intentionnel. « Toi aussi, tu as beaucoup changé. Tout comme tu as observé mes progrès, il est difficile de ne pas remarquer les tiens. » Un instant, Astron ne répondit pas, la scrutant comme pour peser l’intention derrière sa question. Puis, il se pencha légèrement en arrière, reposant sa cuillère avec un léger clic. « Tu as remarqué, hein ? » dit-il, son ton égal bien qu’une pointe d’amusement perçât. Sylvie hocha la tête, ressentant un mélange de soulagement et de tension face à son acquiescement. « Ce n’est pas que physique », ajouta-t-elle rapidement, ses yeux émeraude se rétrécissant légèrement. « Tu es plus fort—pas seulement en puissance, mais... en présence. Tu te tiens différemment maintenant. » Les yeux violets d’Astron restèrent fixés sur elle un instant avant qu’il ne parle. « Tu t’es beaucoup améliorée », dit-il posément, sa voix portant une nuance d’approbation. Les lèvres de Sylvie esquissèrent un petit sourire à ces mots. C’était gratifiant, venant de lui, compte tenu de ses efforts durant les vacances. Mais elle n’allait pas le laisser détourner le sujet. Pas maintenant. « Contente que tu penses ça », répondit-elle, d’un ton enjoué mais déterminé. « Mais tu ne t’en tireras pas si facilement, Astron. Je t’ai posé une question sur ton entraînement. Je ne te laisserai pas l’esquiver. » Les lèvres d’Astron se incurvèrent imperceptiblement, pas tout à fait un sourire mais assez pour surprendre Sylvie. « Tu es tenace », murmura-t-il en s’adossant légèrement. *(La réponse se poursuivrait naturellement, mais le texte original s’arrête ici.)*