---
When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw wasn't the sterile white ceiling of the Academy's infirmary…
…but the silhouettes of people sitting around my bed.
Familiar ones.
It took me a second—or maybe longer—to register.
I was alive.
I know, sounds dramatic. But pain has a way of confirming things. Especially the kind that curls in your ribs like a souvenir from death.
I blinked. Once. Twice. Vision slowly sharpening, like the world didn't quite want me back.
Not a dream. Not a vision. Not even a hallucination.
This was real.
Apparently.
I was in the Academy Hospital. You'd think that would feel comforting. It didn't.
Something felt… off.
The room wasn't crowded. No stretchers rolling by, no cries of pain, no other patients moaning in the background. Just empty space and quiet.
And somehow, that made sense.
In this world, magic handles the cuts and bruises. A broken arm? Healed in minutes. Third-degree burns? Painless restoration, courtesy of glowing hands and whispered incantations.
But the kind of damage I took? That's where magic draws the line.
Two ribs shoved into my lungs. Chest caved in like a cheap tin box. Organs bleeding internally like some twisted abstract painting.
Even healing spells draw the line somewhere.
They had to remove the ribs before the spells could work. Piece by piece. A little surgical poetry.
And now? Here I was.
Alive.
Breathing.
Which felt like a cruel joke, honestly.
And around me?
Not just the usual well-wishers.
Princess Elena of the Elven Domain.
Elin. Aren.
Even Princess Sana from the Human Domain.
And then—
There was one more.
Cale Ashblood.
Yeah. Him.
What the hell was he doing here?
He wasn't the flowers-and-fruit-basket type. And he definitely wasn't here out of concern.
No.
He was here because something changed.
Because I saved Elena—the girl who dies in every damn timeline like it's a tradition.
Because I changed a future that wasn't mine to touch.
His crimson eyes met mine.
No words. Just that abyssal stare.
Emotionless. Cold. Bottomless.
But underneath?
I saw it.
Shock. Confusion. Rage wearing a very tight suit of calm.
He didn't need to speak.
His silence screamed:
"What the hell did you do?"
"How?"
"Why is Elena still breathing?"
He's seen this world break 998 times. This was number 999.
His final run.
And I?
I was the unpredictable variable.
He probably came to kill me.
Might still do it.
Before I could even piece together a plan, a voice yanked me back to now.
"Lucifer… are you okay?"
Elena.
Too close. Too concerned.
Golden hair, silver eyes, soft voice trying too hard not to tremble.
And hidden underneath?
Anger.
Yeah. She was pissed. Probably because I nearly got myself turned into a corpse.
I didn't answer.
Not because I didn't want to. Because I couldn't. Not truthfully.
Because only two people in this cursed world might actually understand me.
One was Cale Ashblood—regressor, apocalypse addict, future-knowledge hoarder.
The other?
Princess Sana.
The Prophet.
Her visions came in fragments. Weak at first. But the stronger her power grew, the more clearly she saw.
And now?
She looked at me like I was a ghost.
Probably because, in her visions, I was.
She saw Elena die.
Since childhood, she tried to stop every tragedy she saw with the help of her future Sight—but failed to change anything. Over and over.
Until now.
Elena was alive.
Because of me.
For Sana, this wasn't just improbable. It was impossible.
A prophecy broken.
She stepped forward.
Didn't say anything. Just reached for my hand.
Warm. Soft. Trembling.
And her eyes?
Locked on Elena.
Jealousy. Possessiveness. Fear.
Hope.
She had no idea how this happened.
None of them did.
The room fell quiet.
Elin. Aren. The others—too stunned to process two rival princesses hovering over some nobody.
But they didn't know the half of it.
Because the real storm?
Was just beginning.
Sitting in this hospital bed…I wasn't the same Lucifer they thought they knew.
And they could all feel it.
Especially Cale.
"I'm okay, don't worry, everyone."
I wanted to say more.
Explain things. Clarify.
But something told me not to.
Not now.
Student Council would be here soon. Lots of robes, questions, judgmental stares.
I needed to talk to Cale. Privately. Clear things up… or try to.
They spoke to me one by one. Gave their concerned looks. Then left.
All except him.
And that's when the temperature dropped.
Literally.
The room froze.
Darkness crawled over every corner, swallowing the light like it had a personal grudge.
And Cale moved.
Fast.
Too fast.
He grabbed my gown and slammed me into the wall.
CRACK.
Concrete splintered behind me. Something cracked inside me too. Probably not metaphorical.
Blood filled my mouth.
"Khak—!"
"Let me down, you psycho bastard! Let's talk!"
I looked him dead in the eye.
I wasn't bluffing. I was furious.
He hadn't even asked. Just acted.
But this was Cale. That was his idea of a greeting.
"Intriguing," he said. Like I was a puzzle he didn't like the answer to.
"But no. You just die."
His voice? Quiet. Clinical. Like he was diagnosing a fatal disease. Me.
His hand shimmered.
A sword appeared.
Not just any sword.
The Sword of the ■■■.
Soul-erasing. Reality-shredding. Gifted by his Constellation who probably thought morality was boring.
You don't survive that kind of blade.
What the hell was he thinking?
And then—
---
[[ Your Personal Attribute: Eye of Tsukuyomi has activated. ]]
[[ Your understanding of the character 'Cale Ashblood' meets Condition 1 for Stage 2: Thought Reflection. ]]
[[ Target is one rank higher than you. You must fulfill the second condition to activate Thought Reflection. ]]
[[ Condition 2: Tell Cale Ashblood that his sister loves you ]]
...
Seriously?
Who the hell writes these conditions? A comedy writer with a death wish?
I swear I'll find them. I'll find them and—
I'll make them pay.
He'll kill me for sure if I say that.
Damn it. Damn it.
"Kh… wait—wait! I have something to say!"
His blade glowed. That quiet, hungry glow that whispered oblivion.
I could feel it.
The void.
Reaching.
Pulling.
"Don't. Just die."
Cold voice. Absolute.
And me?
I panicked.
"YOUR SISTER LOVES ME, YOU PSYCHO BASTARD!!"
Yeah. That came out louder than I meant it.
Everything stopped.
Cale's crimson eyes locked onto mine.
"__"
And for a second—
He wasn't sure if he heard right.
His blade halted—mere inches from my chest.
---
[[ Stage 2: Thought Reflection – Activated. ]]
His thoughts bled into mine.
Foggy. Furious. Bleeding with confusion.
And something else.
Something I couldn't name.
Yet.
---
Let's just say this isn't how I imagined our first meeting.
But hey—
At least I'm still breathing.
For now.
---
[[ Author's Note:
The Constellation Selection Arc starts here!
Cadets choose their Constellations that show interest during a festival.
More world-building, power system details, and Cale & Lucifer moments.
If you're enjoying it, drop a Power Stone or toss me a Golden Ticket! ]]