Ellie had made it her personal mission to annoy every staff member in the room before leaving. From playful jabs to cheeky remarks about their handwriting on the final forms, she was relentless.
Despite that, the last of the paperwork was signed—ink dried, magical seals shimmered, and Lucian's official admission into the Grand Academy was complete.
"Welcome to your paradise," Ellie grinned, handing him two things.
A neatly folded royal blue uniform.
And a small bronze key, engraved with faint silver runes that pulsed ever so slightly in the light.
Lucian took both, giving them an appraising glance.
The uniform shimmered faintly—a crisp white tunic, dark fitted trousers, and the academy's signature royal blue coat with intricate gold trim running along the collar, cuffs, and hem.
"Fancy," he glowed, flicking the coat once for flair.
Ten minutes later, he emerged from the changing room dressed. He tugged the sleeves slightly, adjusting the fabric. The coat hugged his shoulders just right, though it still felt a bit too... stiff. Like a polished spell scroll trying too hard.
"Room 207," the clerk repeated, gesturing to the key. "West Wing. You'll be sharing the floor with other first-years, but this room's yours alone. Consider it a placement benefit."
Lucian raised a brow, spinning the key around his finger. "Solo dorm room? I must've hit the jackpot."
Ellie clapped her hands together like a proud parent and yanked him into a sudden, crushing hug. Her robes rustled, her oversized witch hat nearly flew off, and she practically bounced on her heels.
"I'm proud of you, kid."
Lucian froze for a moment, caught off guard, then relaxed and returned the hug.
…Only for Ellie to press a loud, exaggerated smooch to his cheek.
"Ellie—!"
"Consider that your emotional support charm," she said, winking shamelessly before reaching up to flatten his tousled hair and adjust the gold trim on his lapel. "And remember: don't blow up your room on day one."
Lucian gave a lazy salute. "No promises."
Ellie turned, strutting out with flair, wand spinning in one hand like a conductor's baton. Even the air behind her seemed to sparkle in her wake.
Lucian stood there a moment longer, feeling the full weight of the moment settle in as she shut the door behind her.
Then he patted his coat pockets.
Froze.
"Wait… that drunkard didn't give me spending money!"
A long, exhausted sigh followed. One hand dragged down his face.
Before he could spiral into financial despair, a new figure emerged from the side hallway like a specter summoned from pure disdain: Administrator May.
"Come," she said curtly, already turning before the word had fully left her lips.
Lucian followed, steps light and shoulders square. He adjusted his uniform as he walked—top button undone, tie stuffed unceremoniously in his coat pocket, sleeves rolled up past his elbows. The stiffness was gone. He looked like he belonged now.
Storm-grey eyes held a gleam of unreadable mischief. His hair caught the light, dark with glints of blue. He moved with a mix of noble posture and swordsman grace—too sharp for a slouch, too casual for a parade.
Students they passed gave him more than a few glances—especially the girls. One of them tripped over her own feet near a pillar. Lucian arched a brow and smirked slightly.
"Guess the uniform's doing its job."
They turned a corner into a grander corridor—wide, polished, and lined with arched windows and rune-etched class doors.
At the far end, just as they neared the last door, a student stepped out.
Blonde hair. Slicked back. Golden tunic. His expression soured the moment his eyes landed on Lucian.
He said nothing. Just stared for a long second, sneered, then turned and walked away like Lucian had personally insulted his lineage.
Lucian blinked. "Rude."
Finally, May stopped at a door framed in elegant archways, its brass placard gleaming:
Class 1–A
Lucian stared at it for a moment, hands in his pockets, a small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. This was it.
All his preparation.
All his wandering.
All the reasons he never really fit anywhere else.
He tilted his head slightly, exhaled through his nose, and smirked.
"Magic school, huh? Let's see how long it takes before something explodes."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nerida had finally found a moment of peace. Halric's presence had been like a stain on clean parchment—annoying, hard to remove—but now she was calm again.
Like a candle's flame in a quiet room. Small. Controlled. Steady.
Then the door opened.
"Good afternoon, class," Administrator May's voice rang out.
Heads turned. Nerida barely reacted.
Until she heard:
"You'll be receiving a new student today. Effective immediately, by order of the Headmaster."
Footsteps followed.
Slender silhouette. Tousled, dark-blue-black hair that shimmered under the lights. Storm-grey eyes gleaming with calm confidence.
Nerida blinked.
No… no way....
It cannot be...
The candle flickered.
"Hi," he said with lazy charm. "My name is Lucian Valemire. Please take care of me."
Chaos.
The girls in class exploded.
Squeals. Breathless gasps. One girl dropped her pen with a squeak and forgot how to breathe. Whispers spread like wildfire.
"Who is he—" "Did you see his eyes—" "Is he noble? Is he a duke?" "I would literally die for him—"
Meanwhile, the boys?
Dead silent. Eyes narrowed. One of them broke his pencil in half. Pretty boy alert.
Lucian scanned the room—and then spotted her.
Second row, front. Flame Queen herself.
His smirk widened.
He raised a hand and waved.
Waved.
Every mouth in the room dropped.
"That's Flame Queen Nerida." "Did he just wave at her?" "They know each other?!" "We're all gonna die."
And Nerida?
Still frozen. Blinking. Flames somewhere behind her eyes.
Lucian walked past her slowly, every step deliberate.
He leaned in slightly as he passed—voice soft, teasing, low enough only for her:
"I noticed you had a little trouble with that spell…"
"I can help you finish it, if you're willing."
Then he walked on. Calm. Collected. Like the line he'd just dropped wasn't enough to set a room on fire.
He sat at the back. Kicked his feet up. Rolled his sleeves higher.
The candle flame inside Nerida?
Now a full-blown firestorm.