I Can Hear Ancient Relics Speak And The Grandmasters Lost It Chapter 04

“Professor…” The young student looked between us, clearly uncomfortable.

Whitmore waved him off. “This is your fellow freshman from Lakewood. She just proved her exceptional skill by restoring a piece I couldn’t. Surely she has a solution for this little kettle problem.”

He stepped closer, eyes locked on me. “You’re confident, aren’t you? You doubted my judgment, challenged my expertise. Here’s your chance to prove yourself.”

I was backed against the corner of the stage, heart pounding, from excitement.

This was going to be good.

“Go on!” He grabbed my arm and yanked me to the table, shoving the magnifying glass into my hand. “Show us your brilliance! Humiliate me! Make me regret ever doubting such a genius!”

The table edge bit into my wrist.

I stared at the bronze kettle, waiting for it to speak.

Thousands of eyes bore into me.

But the kettle said nothing.

Unlike the chatty vessel from before, this one was silent. I had no way to whisper privately, and no time to coax it.

I froze.

Seeing my hesitation, Whitmore circled me with a smug grin.

“What’s wrong? Stumped?

“I’ve been teaching for forty years. I know your type. Read a few books, memorized some terms, and suddenly you’re a prodigy. Arrogant, disrespectful, a disgrace to the field!”

All the anger he’d been bottling up finally boiled over. He was going to throw every insult he could muster at me.

“Clueless. Reckless. Lakewood should be ashamed to have you! Thinking you can waltz in and rise to the top without paying your dues!”

Public humiliation burned my cheeks red.

The only way out was to stabilize that kettle.

I took a deep breath, pushed down the sting in my nose, and leaned close to the artifact.

“What’s wrong?” I whispered. “Tell me, and I’ll help.”

Silence.

The crowd’s murmurs grew sharper.

“Whitmore might be going too far, she’s just a kid.”

“This is no joke. One mistake and you’re talking millions in damages. Can she handle that?”

“Professor’s being generous, if you ask me.”

Whitmore puffed up. He raised a hand magnanimously.

“Fine. Since you’re young, I won’t press. But this field demands accountability, so let this be a lesson.”

“Write down your name, student ID, and major. I’ll have a word with your professors.”

He placed a paper in front of me, emphasizing “have a word.”

I knew. He was going to destroy me.

The bronze kettle in front of me was my only shot.

If it would just speak up, I might still get out of this.

Sweat beaded on my forehead, one drop stung my eye just as a voice I’d never heard before suddenly cut through the chaos.