The morning sun bathed the vast courtyard of the Central Academy, where a crowd of students gathered around the large notice board. Arven's name shone among the top rankings: Class S.
He kept a calm expression, but deep inside, something stirred. 'Class S... looks like all the effort was worth it.'
As he observed the students celebrating or lamenting their placements, a familiar voice called from behind.
"Look who made it into Class S — the mysterious guy with the black band."
Arven turned and saw Kael Fever, wearing his usual confident grin, his brown ponytail swaying lightly. Beside him stood Lyra Vesper, elegant as ever, her golden hair gleaming under the sunlight.
"Kael, Lyra... you're in Class S too?" Arven asked, keeping his calm tone.
"Obviously," Kael replied, crossing his arms. "We're the elite, after all. But I'm kinda curious about what makes a newbie like you so special."
Lyra sighed, rolling her eyes. "Kael, you talk like you're the king of the world. And it's not like he stole your spot."
"I didn't say that!" Kael snapped, narrowing his eyes. "I'm just curious."
Arven gave a faint smile. "Nothing special. I just trained enough."
Lyra looked at him for a moment, a curious glint in her green eyes. "You feel... different. Not just because of the band. Your mana — it's strange. Intense, but restrained."
Kael laughed. "Lyra, you and your weird analysis. Not everyone needs to be a genius to stand out."
Arven just smiled slightly. 'They argue a lot... but it feels like genuine friendship.'
Their conversation drifted lightly for a few minutes — about the test, academy rumors, even the cafeteria food, which Kael claimed "looked royal but tasted like rock."
Lyra lightly smacked his arm. "You complain too much."
"And you act like everything's perfect."
"At least I have manners."
Arven chuckled quietly. The playful bickering between them oddly made him feel more at ease.
After a while, his gaze wandered again across the courtyard. Among the clusters of students, he spotted Elara sitting alone on a bench, her crimson hair glimmering in the sun and her red eyes filled with a quiet sadness.
'Elara...'
He waved briefly to Kael and Lyra before walking toward her.
"Mind if I sit?" he asked softly, stopping in front of the bench.
Elara looked up, surprised, and nodded. "Of course."
Arven sat beside her, silence lingering between them. The distant chatter of the crowd filled the air.
"So... you made it into Class S too," he said, trying to start a conversation.
"Yes..." she replied quietly. "But it doesn't change much."
He glanced at her. "You seem... troubled."
She hesitated, then sighed. "It's just... Lucien. He's been distant lately. Always with Gabriela. I know our engagement is just politics, but still..." — her voice softened — "... it's hard to pretend it doesn't hurt."
Arven exhaled slowly. 'So it's happening just like in the novel... right before everything falls apart.'
"He doesn't deserve to make you feel that way," Arven said, his tone calm yet firm. "You're kind, strong... more than just a pawn in some noble alliance."
Elara blinked, surprised by his sincerity.
"Thank you, Arven," she murmured. "You're... different."
He looked away, a faint warmth rising to his face. 'If only you knew how much I want to protect you from what's coming...'
The silence that followed wasn't awkward — just soft, gentle. The breeze carried the scent of flowers across the courtyard, and for a brief moment, it felt as if the world had slowed down.
"Well," she finally said, standing up. "I should go. Classes start tomorrow, and I still need to get ready."
Arven nodded, forcing a small smile. "See you tomorrow, then."
"See you," she replied before walking away, the red shimmer of her hair fading into the crowd.
Left alone, Arven sighed and looked toward the tallest building in the academy — the dormitory for Class S. A great white-stone structure with crimson banners fluttering at its peak.
'Class S... the real beginning starts here.'
He made his way there, earning curious glances from passing students. Inside his assigned room, he found a neatly made bed, a desk, and on it, the academy's uniform — black with silver details and the Class S emblem stitched on the chest.
Running his fingers over the fabric, he thought, 'Tomorrow... the real story begins.'