The polished floors of Seytain Academy reflected sunlight streaming through the high windows, bouncing across the bustling students who filled the hallways. Laughter, chatter, the occasional shout—all blended into a low hum of excitement that marked the first day of school. I walked alone, my hands tucked into the pockets of my uniform pants, taking in the chaos without really caring.
I wasn't particularly interested in anything happening around me. Other students were rushing to meet friends they hadn't seen in months, showing off new bags or shoes, comparing schedules. I was just… there. Existing. Nonchalant. Observing was one thing, but caring? That was another matter entirely. I didn't need to impress anyone, and I certainly wasn't looking for attention.
The classrooms, lined with doors and windows, seemed to hum with energy from within. I noticed small groups of students forming already, some laughing, others whispering quietly as if plotting secrets only they understood. I walked past a pair of girls giggling over their phones, boys comparing notebooks, and a cluster of first-years nervously fiddling with pens, unsure of where to sit.
Eventually, I made my way to the first classroom of the day. The room smelled faintly of chalk and cleaning solution, mixed with the faint perfume and cologne of students. I scanned the room, noting who sat where. Some faces seemed familiar—siblings of upperclassmen, neighbors perhaps—but for the most part, everyone was a blur.
I chose my usual spot: the back corner by the window. It was a classic seat for someone like me: out of the way, quiet, unnoticed. The corner offered a view of the entire classroom, sunlight spilling over the desk, and most importantly, peace. I settled in, adjusting my bag on the floor and letting out a soft sigh.
Shine sat beside me, as if the seat had been reserved for her. Not that it mattered—I didn't know her, and she didn't know me. She smiled politely at a few passing classmates, but her movements were precise, almost calculated. Everyone noticed her, of course. Pretty, intelligent, perfect grades, seemingly good at everything. But even from this first glance, I could tell there was more to her than what everyone saw. She hid it well. Her smiles were perfect, but her eyes hinted at something deeper.
The homeroom teacher entered, a tall man with glasses that always slid down the bridge of his nose. "Good morning, class," he said, voice firm but not harsh. "Welcome to Seytain Academy. I'm Mr. Larence, your homeroom teacher for this semester. Let's start with introductions, seating assignments, and a few rules you'll need to follow."
Students shuffled in their seats, some whispering, some adjusting bags and notebooks. Mr. Larence handed out a printed sheet with the seating arrangement. Names were called, and everyone found their assigned seats. I remained at the back corner, as expected, and Shine simply nodded, taking the seat beside me.
The teacher went over the rules, the expectations, and the subjects they'd cover this semester. "Assignments are important," he said, scanning the classroom. "Participation matters, but respect for each other matters more. And remember, learning is your responsibility."
Some students whispered and rolled their eyes; others nodded earnestly. I didn't react. Notes went in one ear and out the other. I only focused on staying quiet, observing the subtle movements around me—the way some students fidgeted with pens, the way others tilted their heads when they didn't understand something, the soft murmurs that traveled across the rows.
A few classmates tried to talk to me—polite questions about where the textbooks were, small comments about the classroom. I gave simple answers: nods, short smiles, minimal words. That was enough. I wasn't rude; I was just… indifferent.
Shine, on the other hand, seemed to shine—literally and figuratively. She responded to classmates with patience, her laughter light, but not loud. A boy tried to joke with her about a homework assignment. She chuckled politely, nodding and smiling, then returned her attention to her notebook. No one saw the cold edge beneath her perfect demeanor.
Class went on, subjects introduced, rules explained, expectations set. The day moved at its own pace. Every now and then, my pen would roll off the desk. Every time, Shine's hand seemed to reach for it too, and we'd briefly meet eyes. "Sorry," I mumbled, more to myself than to her, retrieving the pen. She nodded once, smiled lightly, and returned to her notes. That was the entirety of our first real interaction.
By the time the last class ended, the room had quieted. Students packed bags, chatting, laughing, eager to leave, eager to share stories of the first day. I didn't have anywhere to rush to. I needed quiet, somewhere to think, somewhere to escape the noise that felt so heavy for my head.
I wandered the halls, passing lockers, classrooms, and corridors. The main library stood ahead, large wooden doors beckoning with the promise of silence. I stepped inside. The smell of old books mixed with polished wood hit me first, followed by the soft sound of pages turning somewhere in the distance.
The library was vast, much larger than I expected. Rows upon rows of shelves, towering over me, forming narrow aisles and quiet corners. Most students stayed near the front, browsing for textbooks, studying quietly at the tables under the bright lights. I moved past them, seeking a place untouched, unobserved.
As I wandered, I noticed a narrow passage between two massive shelves. It seemed almost hidden, dimly lit from a small window at the end. Curiosity nudged me forward. There were no signs, no warnings, nothing marking it as off-limits. I stepped closer, brushing my hand along the wood, and discovered a small door tucked behind the shelves.
"What is this?" I whispered to myself, a grin tugging at my lips. My curiosity wasn't formal, it wasn't intense—just natural, casual. I leaned closer, inspecting the handle, the slight gap where light slipped through. No one would notice if I slipped inside. No one seemed to know this space existed.
The door felt cool under my fingers. I paused for a moment, imagining what could be behind it—a forgotten study room, a small alcove, maybe even just more shelves of books. The possibilities were endless.
I hesitated, then pushed lightly. The door creaked open, revealing shadows and a faint glow from a distant window. I could see the outline of the room inside, empty, silent. It was perfect. A hidden corner, untouched, waiting for someone like me.
I stepped back, curiosity burning quietly. "What's in here?" I murmured again. No rush, no pressure. Just… curiosity. A casual, normal reaction to something unusual, something waiting to be discovered.
I glanced around once more. The library was still vast, quiet, with students scattered far away, unaware of this secret space. I could imagine returning here later, escaping the noise, finding peace. But for now, the discovery itself was enough.
And with that thought, I left the door slightly ajar, the mystery untouched, my first day at Seytain Academy coming to a quiet, contemplative close.