Marcella's Point of View
Marcella walked through the academy's outer plaza with graceful, measured steps. Her long green hair followed the motion of her stride like a flowing ribbon. Behind her walked two figures: a young man with sharp eyes, and Lara — her shadow, confidante, and the closest thing the elven princess had to a friend.
Lara leaned closer, voice lowered but still filled with curiosity.
"Milady… is what Kross said true?"
Marcella didn't answer immediately. Her gaze moved across the crowd, assessing, judging.
"What thing, Lara?"
"The human boy you spoke to." Lara's expression tightened slightly. "I thought you hated humans."
It wasn't a secret. Marcella's disdain for humans was deeply rooted — and more than once, a disrespectful gaze had cost someone their life.
But today… something had been different.
Marcella exhaled slowly. "Yes. I spoke to him. And before you ask why… I don't know."
She touched her chest lightly, as if testing a strange sensation.
"His aura felt… unusual. Calming, even."
Her brows furrowed. "It irritated me."
Lara's lips curved into a sly smile. "Calming? Unusual? Oh no… You're not—"
Marcella turned sharply, cheeks warming. "Don't finish that sentence."
Then, quieter, irritated at herself: "I don't fall for someone because of a conversation."
Lara giggled softly. She knew when to push and when to stop. The boundary between shadow and friend was thin — but still there.
Marcella composed herself, tone returning to its usual authority.
"Still… keep an eye on him during the admission test. I want to know his results."
Lara nodded immediately. "Of course."
Marcella said nothing more, but her thoughts lingered on the boy longer than she liked.
---
Aarin's Point of View
After Harvey left, I wandered into the bustling heart of the academy city.
The "World Academy"…
A territory inside the Empire, yet the size of a capital. Humans, elves, dwarves, beastfolk — all races living side by side. A marvel on the surface.
But right now… I only had one problem.
Money.
I stopped in front of a pastry stall.
Golden crusts, soft steam rising… my stomach tightened painfully.
I reached for my pocket.
Empty.
Of course.
Harvey must have known — he definitely left me without a coin on purpose.
I apologized to the vendor and walked away, but the market was merciless.
Meat roasting over hot flames.
Fresh bread crackling as it cooled.
Sweet fruit scents drifting through the air.
An eight-star disciple, starving in the middle of the market…
If Mero saw me, he would die from shame alone.
I continued walking until a voice called out:
"Fresh fruit! Sweet and cheap!"
A plan popped into my mind — an old, childish trick.
I walked over confidently, grabbed a strange apple-like fruit, wiped it on my robe, and took a bite.
Then a second.
Then a third.
The vendor watched with the smile of a man expecting a generous customer.
Perfect.
In a moment, I would tell him the taste wasn't to my preference and—
"Dad!!"
A freckled boy ran toward the stall, eyes sparkling with joy.
"I passed the application! They accepted me!"
The vendor laughed proudly and lifted the boy into a tight embrace.
"My son! I knew you would!"
I froze, still holding the fruit.
The boy hadn't even taken the test yet — he was celebrating just for applying?
Curiosity pushed me.
"Why are you so happy? It's only the application stage. The test itself is dangerous."
The vendor turned serious.
"You must be from a noble family… you wouldn't understand. For us commoners, being allowed to apply at all is already a blessing. The requirements are harsher."
The boy added sharply, resentment in his voice:
"You nobles have everything easy. We need a high elemental affinity even to enter the plaza."
So this was the truth…
Different from the novel.
More cruel.
More real.
I shook my head. "I'm not a noble. And this is my first time in the city."
The vendor blinked — surprised, then embarrassed.
"Oh— forgive me, sir! I assumed because of your clothing."
He nudged his son.
"Bring a bag."
The boy hurried inside the stall and returned with a small pouch. The vendor filled it with various fruits and handed it to me.
"Please accept this… for misjudging you. And to celebrate my son's application."
I hesitated only for a second, then took it.
"Thank you. And good luck, hero. Maybe we'll meet in the test."
The boy stood a little taller at the word "hero."
I walked away with the bag in hand, exhaling in relief.
The problem of food… solved by fate, not trickery.
Now only one problem remained.
Sleep.
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