"Nullen," she said softly.
Her voice was neither loud nor commanding. Yet the instant my name left her lips, it felt as though the world itself leaned closer, straining to hear.
"I choose you."
For several heartbeats, nothing moved.
The vast ceremonial hall—once alive with hushed whispers and subtle movements—fell into absolute stillness. Even the spirit lamps lining the marble walls seemed to hesitate, their flames flickering weakly, as if unsure whether they were permitted to burn in this moment.
"What…?"
The word slipped from my mouth before I realized I had spoken.
Shock swept through the hall like an invisible tide. Elders froze mid-breath. Nobles stiffened in their seats, faces drained of color. Even the palace guards at the perimeter tightened their grips on their weapons, instinctively bracing for something they did not yet understand.
Disbelief was everywhere.
Including within me.
Why me?
Among the countless candidates—those with pristine bloodlines, radiant forms, and talents praised since birth—why would she choose me?
Is she mad? I thought bitterly. Or does she simply not understand what she's done?
"What are you doing?!" an old man suddenly barked, slamming his staff against the marble floor. The crack echoed through the hall. His voice trembled with authority strained thin by panic. "Do you even comprehend the consequences of those words?"
She turned to face him slowly, unhurried, as though his outrage were little more than background noise.
"I am exercising the same rights and privileges the two of you possess," she replied calmly. Her tone was smooth—almost bored. "Is there something improper about that?"
Her words struck like an open-handed slap.
"He has no form!" my father snapped, rising from his seat. The carefully maintained composure he wore in public shattered instantly, irritation boiling over. "Why would you choose him of all people?"
"This is exactly why you should never have brought him here."
That voice.
Cold. Sharp. Heavy with contempt so familiar it made my chest tighten.
My mother.
"Why doesn't he just drop dead?" she spat. "You useless ingrate."
The words pierced deeper than I expected.
They weren't truly meant for me—not this me. They were aimed at the body I inhabited, the existence this family despised.
And yet—
I felt it.
The sting.
The ache.
The shame crawling up my spine like something alive.
Why does this hurt?
I don't know her. I have no memories of her. No bond. No connection.
So why does it feel like my chest is being crushed?
"Choose someone else," my so-called father said again, his voice low now—dangerous. Less a suggestion than an order.
"I have made my decision," she replied without hesitation.
"But—" His gaze hardened, authority bleeding into every syllable. "You will choose someone else."
She laughed.
Not loudly.
Not mockingly.
Just a soft, amused breath.
"Make no mistake," she said, her voice turning glacial. "I am not one of your servants that you may command."
In an instant, a brilliant white aura erupted from her body.
It surged outward like a violent tide, engulfing her form completely. The sheer pressure forced everyone in the hall to their knees. Marble shattered beneath our feet. Pillars groaned, fractures spider-webbing across their surfaces.
The entire hall trembled as though the sky itself were descending.
"I am the Fifth Child of the Sky Palace," she declared, her voice echoing unnaturally.
"Janet Sky."
The name carried weight—ancient and terrifying.
Her gaze locked onto my father, sharp enough to cut steel.
"This decision is final. Tomorrow, he will present himself at the academy."
She paused, letting the silence stretch.
"And if you have no desire for war, Azure Monarch—" her aura flared once more, "—you will obey."
No one spoke.
No one dared.
She turned her back on the hall and walked away, her presence withdrawing as suddenly as it had erupted.
Only then did the world begin to breathe again.
The hall descended into chaos.
Unable to direct his fury at her, my "father" unleashed it on everything else. Power roared through the chamber, shattering pillars, collapsing walls, reducing a once-majestic hall to ruins. I felt his gaze pass over me—not with hatred, but with something worse.
Dismissal.
I was ordered away.
They locked me in the basement.
A lightless pit of cold stone and stale air. Time lost meaning there. My joints ached against the floor, and every breath tasted of dust and damp. I don't remember sleeping—only waiting.
Morning — Academy Day
By dawn, I was already outside.
The night had passed without rest. My body ached from the cold stone floor, my mind weighed down by everything that had happened.
I stood among my siblings, dressed in the Star Academy uniform—a black kimono draped over a matching inner shirt.
On their chests, the Azure family crest gleamed proudly.
On mine—
Nothing.
Just a blank, empty patch.
I hadn't expected otherwise.
"Do well at the academy," my father said coldly, not sparing me a glance. "Do not disgrace our name. A maid and a knight will be assigned to each of you."
Attendants approached my siblings one by one, bowing deeply.
Then mine arrived.
"So you're the vermin I'm supposed to guide," my assigned knight sneered openly. The stench of alcohol clung to him, thick enough to churn my stomach. His armor was poorly maintained, his posture lazy, his eyes dull.
My maid stood beside him in silence. Her gaze lingered on the small pouch at my side.
Then the funds were distributed.
To my siblings—four massive bags of coins each, stacked like offerings.
To me—
A small pouch was tossed.
It barely made a sound when it landed in my hands.
A faint jingle of gold.
My maid's eyes gleamed.
Perfect, I thought bitterly. A drunk and a vulture.
We departed soon after.
Less than two hours later, the towering gates of Star Academy came into view.
Star Academy — Lowest Class
The opening assembly was grand. Speeches of glory, honor, and future legends filled the air.
Afterward, students were assigned.
I was placed in the poorest class.
A class reserved for failures.
The third batch in the academy's entire history.
When I entered the classroom, only two students were present.
I made three.
Hours passed.
No teacher arrived.
No lesson began.
Eventually, I left.
The training hall was empty—silent, untouched. The air there felt calmer, less oppressive.
I sat down and began to meditate.
Thirty minutes later—
"Hey."
A friendly voice broke the stillness.
"Um… hi," I replied.
A young man stood before me, accompanied by a lady. Both bore palace stamps on their uniforms.
Nobles.
"That's… an unusual way to train," he said, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. "Nice to meet you."
He extended his hand.
Does he not know who I am?
Or does he simply not care?
Either way, refusing would only draw attention.
I stood to shake his hand—
"Do you really want to befriend that formless bastard?"
The words struck from behind.
I turned.
One of my siblings. I didn't recognize which—there were too many. But the Azure symbol told me enough.
The noble's smile faltered.
Before I could speak—
Pain exploded across my face.
A fist.
Then another.
Laughter echoed as I hit the ground, blows raining down without restraint. I glimpsed the noble stepping back, frozen—unsure, afraid.
No one intervened.
That moment—
That was the beginning.
The beginning of the bullying.