Andrew brought the motorcycle to a stop beside a small, lonely house on the outskirts of the city, right at the edge of a body of water.
The moment I took off my helmet and looked around, my face twisted in disgust.
The smell hit me instantly.
"Did you bring me here to drown me in this swamp so no one would ever bother looking for my body?" I asked, my voice muffled as I pulled my hoodie up over my nose and mouth. The stench of rot, algae, stale fish, and something far worse made my eyes water.
"You've got a sharp tongue," Andrew said with a crooked—yet still annoyingly attractive—smile. "This is one of the academy's entrances."
"You're serious?" I raised an eyebrow.
The house itself looked… decent enough. But who in their right mind would live in a place like this?
Behind it stood a low fence separating the property from the water. I couldn't even see the opposite shore. The surface was murky green, thick reeds crowding the banks.
My gaze drifted over the warning signs scattered everywhere—at least ten within sight.
"Do Not Swim."
Seriously?
Who in their right mind would willingly jump into something that looked and smelled like that?
"Are you coming or not?" Andrew called.
I hesitated, then took a few cautious steps toward him.
Inside, the air was surprisingly fresh.
I blinked, confused.
With a smell like that outside, it should've soaked into every crack of the place. But here—it was almost clean.
I lowered my hoodie and looked at Andrew… then at the man sitting at a table across from the entrance.
"Well?" the man snapped irritably. "What are you waiting for?"
"Give him the envelope," Andrew muttered, nudging me forward.
My hands fumbled with the zipper of my bag. I couldn't get it open fast enough. When I finally managed, I pulled out the documents and handed them over.
The man snatched them from me, skimmed them quickly, then gave me a brief, assessing look—before his expression slipped back into irritation.
He stamped the papers, shoved them back into my hands, and jerked his thumb over his shoulder.
I took that as a sign to move.
After a few uncertain steps, I glanced back at Andrew. He had already shown some kind of ID and was following.
"You look like a scared kitten," he snorted. "Go on."
We crossed the room and reached another door.
Andrew opened it and gestured for me to go first.
I stepped outside—
Bracing myself for that awful stench—
And froze.
Everything… was different.
I didn't move until Andrew shoved me forward.
"Keep going. What are you, glued to the floor?"
"But—where—how—" I stammered, unable to form a coherent thought.
Andrew grinned.
"The entrance you saw? A powerful illusion. It's designed to keep people away. In reality, this is just a gate to the academy."
I followed him automatically, still staring around in disbelief.
The grounds were enormous.
Ahead stood what I assumed was the main building—five stories tall, with wide open doors. Its design was striking: the right side built of white stone, covered in intricate carvings; the left side of red stone, plain and unadorned.
The divide ran perfectly down the middle.
On either side of the main building stood two three-story structures, curved as if embracing it. Again—white on the right, surrounded by flowerbeds and a fountain; red on the left, with trimmed grass and a few simple benches.
"What kind of place is this?" I asked.
"The academy's in the center," Andrew explained. "Right side's for aristocrats. Left side—for the gifted."
"And the teachers? Do they live here too?"
"There's staff housing behind the academy. Same deal—separate quarters for aristocrats and the gifted. The whole place is divided."
"So I won't have to deal with aristocrats much?" I asked, a hint of relief in my voice.
"Unfortunately, no," he said. "The separation is mostly for show. Most theoretical classes are shared. And practical training for the gifted?" He smirked. "Considered entertainment for the rich."
"…Entertainment?"
"You'll see soon enough."
"So where do I go now?"
"First-years gather in the main hall. Once enrollment closes, you'll be escorted from there." He stopped at the foot of the stairs. "This is where we part ways."
"…Thank you," I said quietly.
"Don't look so gloomy, peacock," he said, punching my shoulder lightly. "Never thought I'd say this to an aristocrat—but good luck. Show them who's boss."
He laughed and turned away.
I took a deep breath, adjusted the strap of my bag, and climbed the stairs.
Inside was a large hall—also divided into "aristocrat" and "gifted" sides.
Without hesitation, I headed left.
About fifteen people had already gathered there. No one spoke. Everyone stood in silence.
On the right side, it was a completely different scene.
Teenagers lounged on soft sofas. Tables were set with tea and pastries. They chatted casually, like this was some kind of social event.
…I could've been sitting there.
Or maybe not.
Alan hadn't even been accepted here.
"Alan!" Start waved at me.
A few people turned to look.
"Did you have to say it so loudly?" I muttered, wishing I could disappear. Thankfully, the aristocrats weren't paying much attention.
"Sorry," he said. "You'll have to face recognition sooner or later."
"I'd rather delay that as long as possible. You're from my old school, right?"
"I don't work here," he said. "My role is just to escort candidates. Once enrollment closes, I'm gone."
"How much time is left?"
"Nine minutes," he replied, checking his watch.
I sighed and looked back at the group.
"Why is there such a wide age range here?" I asked. "Over there"—I nodded toward the aristocrats—"they all look about the same age."
"Because for aristocrats, this is just the next step after school—like going to university," he explained. "For the gifted, it's different. Abilities—and sight—can awaken at any age. Anyone who wants to develop them has to start from the beginning."
He nodded toward someone.
"See that girl?"
I followed his gaze.
A small, disheveled girl stood alone, wearing worn-out clothes.
I nodded.