I Can Hear Ancient Relics Speak And The Grandmasters Lost It Chapter 02

“You?”

Whitmore snorted. “A snot-nosed little freshman? You’ve got some nerve!”

Fairchild shot me a look, half pity, half amusement.

“Look, girl, I appreciate the enthusiasm. But Professor Whitmore has restored more artifacts than you’ve seen textbooks. If he can’t fix it, you’re just wasting everyone’s time.”

He waved for the assistant to continue.

Desperate, I grabbed the incineration box and held it behind my back, “Give me a chance! I promise I won’t let you down!”

“Promise? What could you possibly promise?”

Whitmore advanced, cornering me. Veins bulged on his forehead. His sharp glare felt like it was peeling my skin off.

“Who do you think you are? Are you questioning my professional judgment? If I can’t restore it, what makes a freshman like you think you can?”

“Let me tell you something, Lakewood turns out five thousand undergrads, two thousand grad students, and four hundred Ph.D. candidates every single year.”

“But the ones who make it to my level? The ones I’d even bother to acknowledge? Less than five.”

“You’ve been in school five minutes and you’re showing off in front of me? Pathetic.”

His voice wasn’t loud. But it carried clearly to every visitor in the hall.

Whispers erupted.

“Kids these days have no fear.”

“She’s got guts, I’ll give her that, but she’s way out of her league.”

“This is like a rookie challenging a Hall of Famer. Oh, this is good.”

Eyes—curious, mocking—pinned me to the center of the room. I felt like I was being roasted alive.

My skin crawled. Doubt crept in.

It was a pre-Colonial vessel. If it burned, it’d be a loss to history, sure, but it wouldn’t affect me. If I took the job and failed? My entire future would go up in smoke with it.

“Picking on a kid just because you’ve got tenure? Classy!”

“Don’t you dare back down, girl, my life is in your hands!”

The vessel’s sobbing monologue continued.

“I survived the Revolution. I survived the Civil War. And now I’m gonna die because of this fossil! It’s not fair! Please, girl, you have to save me…”

The heartbreak in its voice twisted my chest.

I looked up at Whitmore’s sneering face.

Something snapped.

I raised my chin and met his eyes head-on.

“I’ll bet my academic standing on it. If I fail, you can report me for willful damage of federal property.”

Whitmore blinked, caught off guard. Then he scoffed.

“One freshman’s standing? That’s worth nothing next to this artifact.”

“It’s all I have to give.”

I held his gaze. Calm. Steady. Like I’d already won.

Whitmore studied me for a long moment. A cold smile curved at the corner of his mouth.

“Fine.”

He stepped to the front, sweeping his arm toward the crowd of onlookers.

“Let everyone here bear witness. If you succeed, I’ll personally offer you a direct Ph.D. candidacy under my mentorship. If you fail, you’re expelled, and you face criminal charges for destruction of federal property.”

I nodded. Deal.

Tourists whipped out their phones, streaming live.

Fairchild tried to intervene. I walked past him, picked up the mist-blue resin, and approached the table.

My heart was hammering.

Alright, you ancient piece of history, if I save you today, you’d better have my back.

The brush touched the crack.

I fought to keep my hand steady.

Cameras zoomed in. Hundreds of eyes watched my every move.

Slowly… carefully…

The crack sealed.

I exhaled, my shoulders dropping.

“That’s the color!” The vessel practically squealed. “What was that fossil thinking, slapping on that mud-brown crap? The man must be senile, his taste is absolutely garbage.”

I wiped the sweat from my forehead and looked up.

The gallery was dead silent.

Only the blinking camera lights proved time was still moving.

“Professor Whitmore,” I said quietly, “I succeeded.”