Moments later, the classroom door creaked open. A new figure stepped in, carrying an air of quiet command. The next subject had officially begun.
"Good morning, everyone. I'm Professor Danila Alijar, your Geometry instructor."
Her voice cut through the classroom like a clean blade—firm, elegant, and unwavering. Every movement she made was purposeful, each step deliberate. Even the way she adjusted the chalk on her desk carried a refined grace.
Of course, she was an Alijar.
One of the ruling families in Kei Continental—nobility wrapped in silk and steel. Her surname alone demanded attention, and her presence sealed it. Everything about her screamed highborn.
But what was someone like her doing here?
A royal teaching basic Geometry?
Shouldn't she be seated on a throne, sipping fine tea in a castle tower?
Not my problem, Awelistein thought, expression blank. Let her do whatever she wants.
"I'll be overseeing your journey through the fundamentals and complexities of Geometry this year," she continued. "For now, take a sheet of paper—we'll begin with a short diagnostic test. Those who fail will introduce themselves in front of the class. Understood?"
A collective nod rippled across the room, voices meek in reply.
Tension settled like fog. Students glanced at one another with wary eyes, the silence louder than any protest. Meanwhile, Professor Alijar wore a faint smirk, clearly amused.
She liked watching people squirm.
What a sadist, Awelistein muttered in his thoughts, suppressing a sigh.
Without another word, she raised a hand—and ten markers lifted from the side table, floating mid-air. They moved as if alive, gliding to the board and scrawling out the questions in synchronized strokes.
Awelistein narrowed his eyes.
That wasn't simple telekinesis. Royals didn't have abilities like that—not unless they were hiding a subclass. Why conceal it, though?
He shook the thought away. Right now, the test mattered more.
He stared at the paper, read the first question—and smirked.
Too easy.
---
"Is she trying to kill us with this test?"
"Shut up and answer. Do you even know who she is?"
"She's the Military Head General of Kei Continental!"
"You're kidding. She's an Alpha?"
"Dead serious."
The voices reached Awelistein from two rows over. They were trying to whisper but failed miserably.
His eyes flicked up instinctively—and locked with hers.
Professor Alijar was staring directly at him, calm and unreadable. Her gaze wasn't hostile. If anything, it was curious. Measuring.
So the rumors were true.
An Alpha and a Royal. That explained the weight in the air whenever she entered the room.
Still, it didn't make sense.
Alphas led armies, commanded cities. They didn't lecture teenagers on angles and proofs.
Again—not my business.
Awelistein kept his head down and finished his test without a second glance at her.
---
"Time's up."
With a flick of her wrist, the test papers rose from their desks and floated toward her. They hovered in place before her like petals on the wind. Her eyes didn't even move as a faint shimmer of energy passed through them—scanning them all.
"No one failed," she said coolly. "I'm impressed. Let's begin."
Awelistein rolled his eyes.
What a life—grading without reading. Sana all.
---
"I can't believe how fast she covered all that," Lazhania groaned as they walked toward the cafeteria. "My brain still feels fried."
Her face was scrunched up in exaggerated agony, arms limp at her sides.
She wasn't exaggerating much.
Professor Alijar's discussion felt like a battle march—nonstop, dense, and impossible to interrupt. If not for the bell, she might've kept them there until sundown.
"It wasn't that bad," Awelistein said mildly.
"Oh, sure. Easy for you to say. You're gifted. Meanwhile, I'm just… pretty."
He chuckled. "Well, at least you're self-aware."
Lazhania groaned again and bumped her shoulder against his. "Don't rub it in. Let's just eat. We've still got three more subjects."
The cafeteria was already buzzing with students, but unlike most schools, there was order here. No yelling. No shoving. Even chaos had a hierarchy at this academy.
"Three trays of Italian prawns," a noble barked at one of the brown-tied students—pawns, or runners assigned to serve the upper-class.
Awelistein winced at the tone.
"Ignore them," Lazhania whispered, and they joined the queue.
It moved quickly. When they reached the front, Awelistein ordered adobong manok. Cheap and comforting. Just right for someone watching his allowance.
They found a space near the blue-coded scholar tables. Lazhania paused, looking suddenly sheepish.
"I… I can't sit with you," she said quietly.
Awelistein smiled faintly. "You just realized?"
"I'm sorry," she said again. "Wait for me outside, okay?"
"Sure."
They split paths, and he settled at the nearest empty table. Another scholar was already seated, eyes flicking toward him, then away. Awelistein ignored him and focused on his food.
Then, without warning, a tray landed across from him.
"Hi, Awelistein. Nice to see you again."
Tyler.
Awelistein looked up briefly and gave a curt nod.
"So," Tyler pressed on, "you seem to be adjusting well."
He answered his own question and laughed awkwardly. When Awelistein didn't reply, Tyler turned toward the other scholar beside them.
"Oh? Is this your new seatmate? I'm Tyler. You are?"
The boy startled. "I—I'm not with him. I'm A-Arys Santiago…"
He looked like he wanted to sink into the floor.
Tyler rubbed the back of his neck, obviously embarrassed. "Ah… right. I think… someone's calling me. At the faculty. Yep. See you, Awelistein."
He fled, abandoning his tray.
Awelistein shook his head and returned to eating. When he finished, he glanced at the still-shocked scholar.
"I'm Awelistein Ingrid. Nice to meet you, Arys."
Then he stood and left.
He didn't need to look back to know Arys was stunned. Like Lazhania, he recognized the name. And like her, he hadn't expected Awelistein to speak.
---
The hallway was packed when he stepped out. Awelistein moved carefully, stomach full and senses slightly dulled.
Which was always dangerous.
His instincts usually warned him of things before they happened. But now? Nothing.
Which was why he didn't see the other person coming.
He collided with someone—a firm chest, slightly taller than him. The scent hit him immediately: warm spice, undercut by something smooth. Vanilla.
Awelistein stepped back quickly.
"I—I'm sorry. I wasn't looking," he muttered, bowing instinctively.
Red tie.
Damn. A Royal.
He winced. This was the kind of situation he hated the most—being caught off-guard, especially in front of one of them.
The boy stared down at him coldly.
"Stupid," he muttered, and walked away.
Awelistein blinked.
Seriously?
His eyes narrowed, following the boy's retreating figure.
This is exactly why I hate Royals. So full of themselves. Acting like their shit smells like roses.
Awelistein scowled as the guy walked off.
Tch. Royal or not… your poop stinks too.