The Hall of Convening within the Mysterious Academy was a structure few dared enter lightly.
It was not just a meeting space—it was a sanctuary carved from obsidian glass, inlaid with ancient arcane runes pulsing with dormant power. Every brick resonated with history. Every lantern flickered with restrained authority. The air was thick with the presence of high-circle mages, and silence was observed not out of formality, but fear.
Only the senior staff gathered here.
Only those who had command over nations… or magic strong enough to erase them.
Today, however, something was wrong.
Subtly, unbearably wrong.
The mana currents had shifted the moment a silver-haired figure entered through the threshold. Wards that had protected the room since its creation began to hum nervously, flickering as though protesting the intrusion of something—someone—they couldn't measure.
He yawned.
Aaron Aetherwyn blinked twice and shuffled a bit further inside, looking around with a confused, almost apologetic expression.
"Is this… the teacher orientation?" he mumbled under his breath. "I might've taken a wrong turn again."
He scratched his cheek nervously.
The hallway behind him hissed shut with a magical seal, locking in the suffocating air.
Across the chamber, fifteen professors—some of the most powerful and prestigious mages on the continent—stood in silence, watching him like he was a force of nature in human form.
They didn't move.
They didn't speak.
Their expressions were carefully neutral, but their postures screamed tension.
Aaron didn't notice.
He stepped forward, awkwardly weaving between rune-etched obsidian podiums, and paused near the edge of a luminous glyph that hissed softly beneath his feet. The glyph, designed to analyze magical compatibility and power levels, promptly cracked. The air around it shimmered like heat haze.
"Oops," he said, stepping back. "Probably a decor piece."
---
Across the room, Professor Lysel, an elder conjurer of the Spirit Realms, whispered tightly to his colleague. "The detection circle… it cracked. That glyph was designed to withstand ninth-circle pressure."
Professor Harwin, a seer whose clairvoyance was rarely wrong, wiped sweat from his forehead. "I… I saw nothing when he walked in. No future threads. No paths. He's like a blind spot in time."
"He doesn't even carry a staff."
"He's not even wearing formal robes."
"He brought a muffin."
Indeed, Aaron stood near the front now, quietly munching a small muffin wrapped in brown paper, eyes scanning the room like a lost tourist.
---
He didn't know that just by standing still, he was slowly crushing the ambient enchantments meant to detect threats.
He also didn't know that no one else could feel their mana clearly anymore—not since he entered.
And Aaron, ever oblivious, scratched his head and muttered, "Didn't think orientation would be so... intense. I should've combed my hair."
---
The air shifted once more.
Boom.
The main doors blasted open—this time not from pressure, but presence.
She stepped through like a tempest bottled in silk and steel.
Lily Virelith.
She was clad in deep crimson robes outlined with golden fire-script, symbols of her ancestral house, Virelith—guardians of the dragonblood. Her boots clacked sharply across the obsidian floor as she strode through the center of the hall, every professor subtly stepping back as if scorched by her aura alone.
She wasn't just powerful. She was fire given form.
Her gaze didn't waver. Her lips were set in a tight line. She stopped directly in front of Aaron.
And then, to everyone's horror, she bowed her head ever so slightly.
"Aaron Aetherwyn," she said. "You kept me waiting, fiancé."
---
The temperature dropped.
All whispers died.
Even the glyphs flickered.
Somewhere near the back, a young instructor fainted.
Aaron slowly, very slowly, lowered his muffin.
"Fiancé?" he repeated dumbly. "Wait… what?"
His voice wasn't cold. It wasn't commanding.
It was just confused. Very, deeply confused.
And to the rest of the room, that was worse.
They saw a man so powerful, so unfathomable, that even being confronted with the Lady of Fire herself—renowned warrior, political heir, and living legend—he responded like… it didn't matter.
He was above it.
Indifferent.
Terrifying.
Aaron blinked. "Are you sure? I think there's been a paperwork mix-up…"
Lily raised an elegant brow. "Twelve years ago. House Virelith and House Aetherwyn signed the political contract. My father sent three dragons to deliver it. You replied with a note that said, 'Cool. I like red.'"
Aaron's brain short-circuited. I did?!
The professors were now mentally rewriting their understanding of Aaron.
He tamed dragons casually?
He ignored one of the continent's strongest noble daughters?
He… liked muffins?
---
At the rear of the room, someone leaned against the enchanted wall with a grin.
Nova, Headmistress of the Mysterious Academy.
Silver-haired, lazy-eyed, and draped in a cloak woven from void threads, she watched the drama unfold with delight in her eyes.
"Oh," she murmured, voice barely above a whisper, "He doesn't even remember agreeing to marry a Virelith. How deliciously terrifying."
Her personal assistant beside her nodded. "Should we… intervene?"
"Not at all," Nova said, her grin widening. "This is better than theater."
---
Aaron cleared his throat and gave a sheepish smile.
"So… I just sit anywhere?"
Silence.
Everyone was too stunned to move—except Nova, who was watching the entire situation with a half-lidded, delighted gaze. Like a cat that had just discovered a mouse in a lion's den.
Aaron shuffled forward nervously. The array beneath him let out a final, pitiful spark before dying entirely. He stepped toward the nearest chair, trying not to make eye contact with Lily, who was still glaring at him from across the chamber.
Fiancée…? That can't be right… right? Aaron panicked internally. She must be mistaking me for someone else. There's no way someone like her is engaged to someone like me.
He stepped onto the next stone tile.
Crack.
The floor fractured again.
Aaron froze, paled, and looked at Nova with full panic.
"I-I didn't mean to—! Should I take my boots off? I promise I'm not that heavy!"
The professors collectively held their breath.
He's not doing it intentionally, Garniel thought, sweat trickling down his neck. This isn't a dominance display. This is natural. That's worse.
Lily clenched her jaw.
Even now, after witnessing that unstable aura—something she instinctively recognized as predator-level—he stood there, hunched, apologetic, timid.
Is he acting? Is this some twisted test of ours?
But then she saw it again—that expression.
The same dumbfounded, nervous, hopelessly earnest look he gave her earlier.
He's not pretending… is he?
Nova smiled, tapping her finger on the armrest. "You're not in trouble, Professor Aetherwyn. Please. Sit."
He nodded, bowing twice, and carefully—very, very carefully—eased into the seat beside her.
It didn't explode.
Small victories.
Nova turned to the others. "Well? Are we going to begin the orientation? Or are we just going to sit here and pretend we're not all terrified of my newest recruit?"
A few chuckled stiffly. Most didn't.
Aaron gave a mortified little laugh.
"Ha… ha… Terrified. Yeah, they must hate me already."
Nova blinked. "Wait, you think they're mad at you?"
Aaron whispered, "It's okay. I understand. I'll just work harder to fit in."
There it was again.
That sincerity.
That stupid, unshakable, almost charming cluelessness.
Nova turned away to hide her smirk. Lily sat down, expression unreadable.
What is he?
And Aaron, still convinced he'd made a terrible first impression, sighed in relief when no one yelled at him.
Little did he know, they weren't silent out of disappointment…
They were silent because no one dared speak in the presence of something they couldn't comprehend.
---