The surroundings fell deathly silent.
…Did they just call my name?
Simon's mind went completely blank, as if someone had unplugged his entire brain.
Meanwhile, Knox remained perfectly calm—almost annoyingly so.
Of course, he had his reasons. One of them being the tiny ancient menace known as 'the loli baba', Nefthis.
She'd told him beforehand, casually sipping her tea, that if Knox didn't get Special Entry No. 1, the entire Dark Alliance would probably assume her brain had finally rotted away.
Knox also noticed something Simon himself didn't—Simon had frozen on the spot, stiff as a statue.
Letting out a soft sigh, Knox rose from his seat, dusted off his uniform lightly, then turned to Simon. His voice came out gentle, almost coaxing.
"Simon. Let's go."
Hearing his name again—this time in a warm, familiar voice—snapped Simon out of his trance. He jerked a little, blinking rapidly before turning to Knox.
"Ah—"
Only then did he realize that nearly a thousand students were staring at them.
His throat went dry. The "unfriendly" surprise Nefthis had dropped on him hit him all over again, and he wanted to bang his head on the nearest wall. But running away definitely wasn't an option. Not with everyone watching.
So Simon swallowed hard, forced his legs to move, and stood up beside Knox.
The gazes of the entire hall followed the two of them—one calm and collected, the other walking like he'd just been sentenced—in perfect contrast as they stepped toward the stage.
A low wave of murmurs rippled through the auditorium as Knox and Simon walked toward the stage.
"Simon Polentia? Who's that?"
"Polentia family? Never heard of them."
"Putting aside the unknown guy, I'm not surprised Knox Aznable got Special Entry No. 1."
"Wow… I heard he was handsome, but not this handsome—what the hell…"
While the whispers kept swelling, the two students already standing on stage—Lorain and Serene—watched the approaching duo with completely different reactions.
Lorain's eyes first drifted to Simon. She blinked, surprised for a moment.
I never expected Simon—the boy Knox and I guided yesterday—would be Special Entry No. 1…
But that surprise lasted all of two seconds. Her attention immediately swung away from Simon and locked onto the boy beside him.
Walking with that calm, composed aura that felt so… him.
Hearing the crowd praising her childhood friend—her precious person—Lorain's lips curled into a proud little smile. A smug one, even.
Her expression practically broadcasted:
See? Look at my childhood friend. Amazing, right?
Of course, she also picked up a few snide whispers—petty jealousy, little jabs hidden in envy.
Lorain's smile didn't twitch. But in her mind?
She was already memorizing the faces one by one.
Her inward voice sounded suspiciously like a certain blue-haired vengeance knight from Genshin:
This grudge… I'll remember it.
Meanwhile, Serene's reaction was… different.
Her gaze slid to Simon first, her expression unreadable—calm, but with a flicker of interest.
A nobody with Special Entry No. 1? How fun. Maybe a new toy… or a promising prospect for the Ivory Tower.
Then her attention shifted to Knox. And her smile changed—turning sly, fox-like, almost playful.
She remembered her adoptive father, Bermund Aidark, Lord of the Ivory Tower's words perfectly.
"Try to recruit him at all costs. Avoid making him an enemy if possible. As for eliminating him if he becomes a threat… we'll talk about that when the time comes."
Knowing even she would have only a slim chance of beating him made her curiosity spark even more. Serene watched Knox approach, her eyes gleaming with interest.
The two boys finally stepped onto the stage.
Simon gulped hard, his throat dry. This was the first time in his life he'd been the focus of nearly a thousand people, and every step felt like walking on glass.
Knox, on the other hand, remained calm—almost too calm. Outwardly, he wore a soft smile and steady composure. Inwardly?
Holy crap, this is it. This is literally the prologue scene. I'm actually living it.
He was practically buzzing.
"Phew…" Simon let out a shaky breath as the host approached and gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
"Calm down."
Before Simon could answer, another tiny commotion unfolded beside him.
Lorain immediately moved—quick and instinctive—as soon as Knox reached his mark. She slipped into position on his right, as if that spot had always been reserved for her.
Then, just as naturally, Serene stepped forward and stood on Knox's left.
The shift made the audience murmur.
And made Lorain glare.
Her eyes narrowed the moment Serene stood beside Knox, the look sharp enough to cut steel—like a cat guarding her territory.
Serene, fully aware of the death-glare burning into her, simply offered a polite smile back.
A polite fox smile.
Lorain's eyebrow twitched. A tiny vein nearly popped.
If Knox noticed what was happening between the two girls flanking him, he probably would've applauded. The tension was straight out of an "Amuro meets Char" moment, just with more passive-aggressive smiling.
Meanwhile Simon—blissfully unaware of the silent war happening right beside him—stood stiffly and glanced at the three students now beside him.
From the audience's perspective, the order from left to right was:
Lorain – Knox – Serene – Simon.
Feeling Simon's gaze, the three turned slightly and gave him small nods of acknowledgement.
Simon almost flinched. He wanted to ask a million questions to Knox and Lorain—about who they were, about why they hid their identities, about everything—but now wasn't the time. He swallowed the impulse for later.
The host stepped forward.
"No need to be nervous. Just follow what's written here."
"Yes, understood," the four students answered in unison.
They raised their right hands together.
"I swear."
"I swear."
"I swear."
"I swear."
And then—
Behind them, 996 students shouted "I swear!" in a powerful unified echo that filled the entire auditorium.
"We, the incoming students…"
"We, the incoming students…"
"We, the incoming students…"
"We, the incoming students…"
And just like that, the vow came to an end.
The four students lowered their hands, and three of them—Lorain, Serene, and Simon—stepped off the stage and returned to their seats.
Only Knox remained standing.
A wave of confusion spread instantly. Students whispered.
Even Lorain blinked, her expression practically saying, Huh? Why is he still up there?
The host stepped forward, smiling as if he had expected the reaction.
"Next, our representative of the 329th batch—Knox Aznable—will be giving a performance. Please give him a round of applause!"
The moment the announcement echoed through the hall, the seats erupted.
The applause shook the entire auditorium.
Some students cheered, some whistled, some slapped their desks in excitement.
And Lorain?
She clapped so hard it almost looked violent. To her, even that wasn't enough.
She wanted to stand up and yell That's my childhood friend! but barely managed to keep her composure.
Meanwhile, Simon tilted his head in bewilderment as he applauded politely.
His eyes practically screamed, Hello? Does no one else think this is weird? Why is Knox performing? Did I miss a memo?
But with everyone clapping like their lives depended on it, Simon convinced himself this must be normal.
Maybe Knox was chosen because he's… uh… good at something?
He had no idea how much of an understatement that was.
───A short flashback.
During one of Knox's autograph events—organized by his publisher—Knox had gotten bored just signing books. To him, sitting at a desk scribbling signatures for hours felt too stiff, too lifeless.
So he stood up, grabbed a mic, and said:
"Since this novel means a lot to me… let me sing something for you guys."
The book that day was Anohana: The Flower We Saw That Day.
And so he sang "secret base ~ kimi ga kureta mono."
The venue fell silent at the first verse. By the second chorus, people—young, old, men, women—were crying. Even the staff backstage got misty-eyed.
Not long after, Knox's fame skyrocketed, not just as an author but as a singer and instrumentalist gifted enough to make emotions spill over.
───
And now, standing on the stage of Kizen, ready to perform before a thousand new students, Knox allowed himself a small smile.
Knox stood alone under the lights, the applause gradually fading into an eager, breathless hush.
He lifted his gaze, eyes sweeping across the sea of students—the future necromancers, sorcerers, mad geniuses, troublemakers, and hidden monsters of Kizen.
A grin tugged gently at the corner of his lips.
Well… now's the time to give them a dimensional-attack-level musical performance.
Knox raised his hand.
In an instant, a cluster of portals appeared behind him—then thirty-two skeletons stepped out one by one, each holding a different instrument as if they'd been waiting backstage for their cue. Without a single clatter or wasted motion, they walked to their designated spots, forming a perfect orchestra layout.
Knox moved to the center, violin in hand.
Another skeleton emerged a beat later, climbing onto the conductor's podium while gripping a tiny baton between its bony fingers. Its spine straightened, posture almost aristocratic—as if it genuinely believed it was the maestro of this whole show.
Then, guided by Knox's subtle gesture, he and the entire skeleton orchestra bowed their heads toward the audience.
A hush fell.
And the moment the air tightened with anticipation—the performance began.
The first violent notes tore through the silence.
Vivaldi's Winter—but the epic, storm-torn, Kafka-teaser-level version—burst to life. The stage shook with sharp strings, icy staccatos, and a cold momentum that felt like a blizzard being summoned right in front of them.
The moment the conductor skeleton's baton sliced downward, the world seemed to snap.
A single, razor-sharp violin note tore across the auditorium—bright, icy, and clean enough to split breath from silence. Then came the follow-up: a flurry of strings, fast and biting, like shards of winter wind cutting straight through the air. The skeleton cellists answered with deep, rumbling tremors that shook the floorboards, while the brass section blasted out a cold, metallic gust that made the hall feel ten degrees colder.
Every note Knox played carried that precise, stormlike pressure—controlled yet wild, elegant yet brutally cold. His bow danced across the strings with inhuman precision, every movement crisp and fluid, like he was carving the season of winter itself into sound.
It wasn't just Winter by name—the music itself breathed cold.
The orchestra behind him didn't feel like undead puppets at all. They were unnervingly coordinated.
Every skeleton hit their cues with terrifying accuracy, as if each bone had muscle memory. The percussion skeleton slammed down the timpani with thunderlike timing. The violists scraped rapid, chilling tremolos. The harpist skeleton plucked frost-like notes that twinkled around Knox's melody like drifting snowflakes.
The entire performance felt less like a concert and more like a blizzard being summoned into existence.
By the tenth second, the entire auditorium had stopped breathing.
Rows upon rows of students sat frozen, eyes wide, mouths slightly open. Even the ones who were whispering earlier… dead silent. Some leaned forward by instinct, as if their bodies were being pulled toward the sound.
The professors—who should've been the calmest—weren't doing any better.
One professor's pen slowly slipped out of her hand.
Another forgot to blink.
The Elders expression tightened, not in disapproval— but in the kind of shock reserved for witnessing something genuinely absurd.
Staff members exchanged looks of horror and awe.
Teacher assistants stood stiff, heads unconsciously tracking the tempo, their brows furrowed like they couldn't keep up.
No one spoke. No one moved.
They were watching a storm take form on stage—and the eye of that storm was Knox, playing like the world itself was his instrument.
When the final note faded—soft, crisp, and lingering like the last trace of winter breath—the auditorium fell into an eerie, absolute silence.
Not a whisper.
Just thousands of people sitting there, stunned, as if their minds needed a full system reboot.
Knox lowered his violin.
The conductor skeleton tapped its baton against its rib once—clack—and, together with the entire skeletal orchestra, bowed deeply. Knox followed with a graceful bow of his own.
Then, with a single wave of his hand, all thirty-two skeletons slipped back into his summoned subspace.
Only then did the audience finally exhale.
Like a dam breaking, the hall erupted. A tidal wave of applause crashed forward—deafening, thunderous, overwhelming.
Some students jumped to their feet immediately.
Others whistled, shouted Knox's name, or simply clapped so hard their hands turned red.
A few older professors and veteran staff members wiped tears from the corners of their eyes, completely blindsided by the emotional weight of the performance.
Even Knox's control over his summons drew astonished praise. Aaron, standing among the faculty, couldn't hide his surprised face.
"To think his command over undead could be precise enough for a full orchestral piece… insane," he muttered, half to himself.
Among the students, even the usually unshakeable ones had lost their composure.
Merida Hugh Ickel—normally half-asleep with that mint-colored hair falling over her eyes—was sitting up straight, clapping with surprising energy.
Jule Vincere, calm and expressionless on most days, was applauding with both hands, the faintest spark of excitement in his gaze.
And Serene…
Serene Airdark's applause was calm but passionate, her fox-like smile brighter than ever, pupils dilated with genuine interest.
As for Lorain—well, she looked like her soul momentarily ascended.
But that was another story.
————————————
Character Voicelines · Knox: About His Songs That Made People Cry
Knox: Back then, people said the Anohana song I sang was really touching.
Knox: But honestly… I don't think it was that touching.
Knox: Hmm. Should I show them something even more "touching"? Maybe… some Honkai Impact 3rd songs?
Knox: Now that I think about it, why not release a Honkai Impact 3rd novel and the songs at the same time? I believe that would be far more "touching." Hehehe.