SAINT-VÉRAN

MIDNIGHT INITIATION

The first time I learned about the Saint-Véran initiation, I thought it was a joke.

It was Thursday afternoon, somewhere between mathematics and French literature, when a second-year student leaned across the table in the dining hall and asked me:

“You’re new, right?”

I nodded.

He grinned.

“Enjoy your last peaceful night.”

I stared at him.

“What?”

He laughed.

“Nothing.”

His friends laughed too.

I didn’t think about it again until that night.

By then, I’d already forgotten most of the conversation.

I was sitting at my desk in Room 317, trying to finish my mathematics exercises while Lucien was changing after rugby practice.

Rain tapped softly against the windows.

The academy looked different at night.

During the day, Saint-Véran was imposing.

At night, it became something else entirely.

The corridors were long and shadowed, illuminated by old brass lamps that cast pools of yellow light against the stone walls. The portraits of former headmasters seemed to watch anyone who walked past after curfew.

I preferred staying inside.

It was safer.

Quieter.

At eleven thirty, Lucien came back from the showers.

His hair was damp, and he was wearing a dark Saint-Véran sweatshirt.

He glanced at my desk.

“Still working?”

“Math.”

“You’re going to die.”

“That’s encouraging.”

He dropped into his chair.

“You’ve been doing that problem for twenty minutes.”

“I know.”

“You’re doing it wrong.”

I looked at him.

“Then don’t tell me.”

He reached across the space between our desks and pulled my notebook toward him.

I immediately grabbed it back.

“I can do it.”

“I know.”

“Then stop.”

“I was going to help.”

“I don’t need help.”

He gave me a look.

“You’ve erased the same line six times.”

I glanced down.

He was right.

“That’s irrelevant.”

His mouth twitched.

I tried not to smile.

For a while, the only sounds were rain and the turning of pages.

Then the lights in the corridor outside flickered.

I looked up.

Lucien didn’t.

“Does that happen often?”

“Sometimes.”

“That’s comforting.”

“It’s an old building.”

I returned to my notebook.

A few minutes later, there was a sound outside our door.

Three knocks.

I froze.

Lucien looked up.

Another three knocks.

Then silence.

I frowned.

“Did you hear that?”

“Yes.”

“Should we- ”

The door opened.

I nearly fell out of my chair.

Three boys stood in the doorway.

They were older.

Second-years, maybe third-years.

I recognized one of them from the dining hall.

The boy who had warned me.

He smiled.

“Found him.”

My stomach tightened.

“Found who?”

He looked directly at me.

“You.”

I glanced at Lucien.

He had already stood.

“What do you want?”

The older boy grinned.

“New student initiation.”

Lucien’s expression didn’t change.

“No.”

The boy laughed.

“You don’t get to decide that.”

“I just did.”

There was something strange about the way Lucien said it.

The older student stared at him.

Then he shrugged.

“Fine. We’ll come back later.”

They left.

I waited until their footsteps disappeared.

Then I looked at Lucien.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“That wasn’t nothing.”

He returned to his desk.

“It’s an old tradition.”

“What kind?”

“One you don’t need to participate in.”

That did not make me feel better.

“What happens?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“How much they hate you.”

I stared at him.

He looked completely serious.

“You’re joking.”

“No.”

My stomach dropped.

“Lucien.”

He looked at me.

“Lock the door.”

I did.

For the next twenty minutes, I convinced myself that was the end of it.

It wasn’t.

At twelve seventeen, the door opened.

Not because I unlocked it.

Because someone had a key.

I woke to a hand clamping over my mouth.

I panicked.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

I tried to pull away.

“Quiet.”

The voice was whispered beside me.

I recognized it.

The older student.

I was dragged out of bed.

I barely had time to find my shoes.

The corridor was dark.

Lucien’s bed was empty.

I twisted around.

“Lucien?”

No answer.

Someone grabbed my arm.

“Come on.”

I stumbled after them.

We moved through the sleeping academy.

I had never seen Saint-Véran like this.

The grand staircase disappeared into darkness above us.

Moonlight spilled through the tall windows.

Every sound seemed louder.

Our footsteps.

My breathing.

The rain against the glass.

We passed the library.

Then the old chapel.

Then a narrow corridor I’d never seen before.

I stopped.

“Where are we going?”

Nobody answered.

“Wait.”

The older student looked back.

“Keep walking.”

“I don’t want to do this.”

He laughed.

“You don’t get a choice.”

My chest tightened.

I wanted to go back.

I wanted my bed.

My books.

My familiar little desk.

Anything.

Instead, I followed them down a stone staircase.

The air became colder.

We descended beneath the academy.

The walls changed from polished stone to rough gray blocks.

There were old pipes overhead.

Dust covered the floor.

Someone had painted the Saint-Véran crest on the wall decades ago.

Half of it had faded.

“This is ridiculous,” I whispered.

“You’re almost there.”

We entered an underground courtyard.

I didn’t even know it existed.

The ceiling was open to the night sky.

Tall stone walls surrounded us on every side.

A single courtyard lamp illuminated the center.

There were perhaps ten students waiting.

Some wore masks.

Others held flashlights.

Someone had built a small wooden platform in the middle of the courtyard.

My stomach twisted.

“What happens now?”

One of the students stepped forward.

“You answer questions.”

“What kind?”

“Personal ones.”

I shook my head.

“No.”

The boy smiled.

“Then you can leave.”

Hope flashed through me.

“Really?”

He pointed toward a dark archway.

“Through there.”

I looked.

It was completely dark.

“You’ll find your way back.”

I didn’t believe him.

But I didn’t want to stay.

I turned toward the archway.

Someone laughed.

Then a hand shoved me.

I stumbled.

My shoulder struck the stone wall.

Pain shot down my arm.

I gasped.

“Relax.”

I pushed myself upright.

“I’m leaving.”

Another student stepped in front of me.

“Not yet.”

My heart was pounding.

“I said I’m leaving.”

The boy smiled.

“You’re very brave when you’re whispering.”

His friend laughed.

I tried to move around them.

A hand caught my shoulder.

I froze.

Suddenly I was back at every moment in my life when someone bigger had decided I didn’t get to choose what happened next.

My body reacted before my mind did.

My shoulders tightened.

My hands went cold.

“Please.”

The word came out barely audible.

The boy leaned closer.

“What was that?”

“Let him go.”

Everyone went silent.

I knew that voice.

I turned.

Lucien stood beneath the archway.

He wasn’t wearing his academy sweatshirt anymore.

He had pulled on a black coat over his clothes.

His hair was still damp.

His hands were at his sides.

He looked completely calm.

Too calm.

The boy holding me laughed nervously.

“Valmont.”

Lucien didn’t answer.

“You weren’t invited.”

Lucien’s eyes moved to the hand gripping my shoulder.

Then back to the boy’s face.

“Let him go.”

The boy smiled.

“Or what?”

Nothing happened.

Lucien simply looked at him.

The smile slowly disappeared.

I had seen Lucien angry before.

Or what I thought was angry.

This was different.

There was no raised voice.

No threat.

No dramatic movement.

Just silence.

Heavy, absolute silence.

The boy released me.

I stepped away from the wall.

Lucien walked into the courtyard.

One step.

Then another.

Everyone moved aside.

Nobody told them to.

They simply did.

He stopped several feet in front of us.

“Go back upstairs.”

One of the older students laughed nervously.

“This is tradition.”

Lucien looked at him.

“Not anymore.”

“You can’t just- ”

“Walk away.”

Two words.

That’s all.

The boy stopped talking.

For several seconds, nobody moved.

Then someone muttered something under his breath.

Lucien’s eyes shifted toward him.

“Did you say something?”

“No.”

“Good.”

The students began leaving.

One by one.

No arguments.

No jokes.

No laughter.

They simply disappeared through the archway.

I stood against the wall, completely stunned.

Within less than a minute, the courtyard was empty.

Just Lucien.

Me.

And the rain falling through the open ceiling.

I looked at him.

“How did you- ”

“Are you hurt?”

I blinked.

“What?”

“Your shoulder.”

I looked down.

There was already a red mark where the boy had grabbed me.

“I’m fine.”

Lucien stepped closer.

“Let me see.”

“It’s fine.”

“Elias.”

I hesitated.

Then turned slightly.

He examined the mark without touching it.

His expression tightened.

“They shouldn’t have brought you down here.”

“I didn’t know what was happening.”

“I know.”

“How did you know?”

“I didn’t.”

He looked toward the archway.

“I woke up and your bed was empty.”

My stomach twisted.

“You came looking for me?”

“Obviously.”

I stared at him.

He seemed almost annoyed by the question.

Then he noticed my expression.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

He sighed.

“You’re terrible at lying.”

“I know.”

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Rainwater dripped from the edge of the roof.

The academy bells rang somewhere far above us.

One.

Two.

Three.

I looked around the courtyard.

“Are they really afraid of you?”

Lucien’s expression became unreadable.

“Who?”

“The others.”

He didn’t answer.

“They didn’t even argue with you.”

“They knew they were wrong.”

“That wasn’t why.”

He looked at me.

I lowered my voice.

“Was it?”

His eyes stayed on mine.

“No.”

I waited.

“Then why?”

Lucien looked away.

“Because they know what happens when I stop being polite.”

A chill ran through me.

I had no idea what that meant.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

We started walking toward the staircase.

I stayed a step behind him.

Halfway up, I spoke.

“Lucien?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

He didn’t turn around.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“You said that before.”

“I meant it before too.”

We reached the corridor.

The warm academy lights made everything seem less frightening.

Almost normal.

Lucien stopped outside Room 317.

He looked at me.

“Next time someone comes to the room after midnight, don’t go with them.”

“I didn’t exactly volunteer.”

“Then wake me.”

“You were asleep.”

“I don’t care.”

I looked at him.

His expression was serious.

“Wake me.”

I nodded.

“Okay.”

He opened the door.

I stepped inside.

Then stopped.

“Lucien?”

He looked back.

“Why are you always doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Protecting me.”

He stared at me.

For a moment, I thought he might finally explain.

Instead, he said:

“I told you.”

“Told me what?”

He looked at me with that strange, unreadable expression I’d begun seeing more often.

“I notice you.”

Then he walked inside.

I followed.

That night, I lay awake for a long time.

I kept thinking about the courtyard.

The older students.

The way they had laughed.

The way they had stopped the moment Lucien appeared.

I had known he was popular.

I had known he was strong.

I had seen him play rugby.

I’d seen the way people stepped aside when he walked through the academy.

But that night, I understood something different.

People weren’t only afraid of Lucien because he was the golden boy.

They were afraid because beneath the perfect uniform, the quiet voice, and the effortless confidence was someone who could become frighteningly still when someone crossed a line.

And for reasons I couldn’t understand, he had decided that line was me.