Faustin's eyes snapped open to the dissonance of students scrambling to shake off the remnants of sleep in the dorm's dimly lit chamber. The early morning air was thick with the murmur of hushed conversations and the rustling of bed sheets. His stomach growled with a hunger that seemed to gnaw at his very insides, while his sides ached from the unforgiving hardness of the bed he'd lain on through the long, restless night. The faint memory of drooling on his pillow, a testament to his exhausted slumber, only added to his discomfort. Just then, the dorm's bell clanged loudly, its metallic ring piercing the air as it signaled the students to gather in the refectory for breakfast. Faustin's stomach rumbled louder in anticipation, his hunger now a palpable force that drove him to throw off the covers and join the swarm of students streaming out of the dorm.
As the students surged down the dormitory hallway, a sea of white-clad figures converged on the refectory. Dressed in their pre-class attire – crisp white tank tops and shorts – they made their way to the cafeteria, adhering to the school's tradition of fueling up before donning their formal uniforms. Faustin, still rumpled from sleep, skipped his morning wash and hastily threw on his tank top and shorts, joining the throngs of students in their dash to the refectory.As they entered the refectory, the students were greeted by a mouthwatering medley of aromas wafting from the food stalls. However, their appetites were quickly overshadowed by a heated dispute brewing between the male students of the first and second dorms. The altercation escalated into chaos, with spoons flying through the air as both sides clashed. Amidst the mayhem, a plate of food hurtled towards Faustin, but Anon intervened just in time, snatching it out of mid-air with his right hand and sparing Faustin's face. Just as the situation seemed to spiral further out of control, the refectory captain unleashed a thunderous bellow, his voice booming with an inhuman force that sent the students wincing, their hands clamped over their ears. The sheer intensity of the captain's voice cracked the wall, adding to the existing fissures that had been etched into the surface by his previous outbursts.
"Thanks," Faustin said to Anon, slowly uncoiling from the instinctive crouch he'd taken to avoid the flying plate, his eyes still darting towards the spot where it had nearly collided with his face. Anon's response was characteristically taciturn – a slight push of his glasses up the bridge of his nose, a fleeting acknowledgement. As the tumultuous atmosphere of the refectory began to calm, the students settled in to eat with a fervor that bordered on frenzy. Forks clattered against plates, and the air was filled with the muted sounds of ravenous consumption. Faustin's eyes widened in wonder as he watched his peers devour their meals with a speed and ferocity that defied comprehension. Plates were scraped clean, utensils rattled, and in what felt like the blink of an eye, the hall was transformed from a chaotic free-for-all to an empty, echoing space. Faustin and Anon stood alone, the only sound the faint hum of sickly green luminescent orbs that cast an eerie, unsettling glow over the deserted tables.
Anon's gaze drifted towards the glass-like partition that separated the male and female refectories, his eyes lingering on the sleek, opaque surface as if mesmerized by its presence. Though not transparent, the demarcation seemed to captivate him, and he sat in silence, lost in thought, his meal forgotten. After a moment, Anon stood up, his chair scraping softly against the floor, and began to make his way out of the hall, leaving his barely touched food behind. Faustin followed suit, rising from his seat to join Anon. However, just as he took his first step, Enid materialized out of nowhere, his hands wrapping around Faustin's arm in a firm grasp, his teeth flashing in a bright, almost predatory smile as he clung to Faustin's arm.
"Let's go to class together," Enid said, his grip on Faustin's arm tightening as he pulled him closer. "I would need to change into formal wear first," Faustin replied, attempting to pry Enid's fingers loose, but Enid's hold remained firm. "Your uniform, courtesy of me," Enid said with a smile, as a neatly folded uniform suddenly materialized in his hands, the fabric rustling softly as it took shape. The air seemed to ripple and shimmer around Enid's fingers, as if reality itself had been subtly distorted. A name tag prominently displaying Faustin's name gleamed in the dim light, the letters embossed on the metal seeming to wink into existence. Faustin's eyes widened in surprise as he stared at the uniform, his mind struggling to comprehend how it had appeared out of nowhere. "You went through my stuff?" he asked, his tone laced with unease. "And how were you able to do that?" he added, his finger jabbing towards the uniform, as if accusing it of being a conjurer's trick.
Enid's smile lingered as he handed Faustin the uniform, which Faustin accepted with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. He retreated to a secluded spot, the soft murmur of students fading into the background as he quickly changed into the uniform. The fabric rustled as he dressed, the crisp material scratching slightly against his skin. Before long, the school bell rang, its harsh, metallic tone echoing through the dimly lit corridors. Students from both dormitories poured out into the hallways, their chatter and laughter mingling with the sound of shuffling footsteps. The air was thick with the smell of fresh laundry and starch, the scent of newly washed uniforms hanging heavy over the crowd. Enid fell into step beside Faustin, his grip on Faustin's arm guiding him through the crowd. "I've been in the Academy for years, but I just got bumped up to high school, so we'll be in the same class," Enid explained, casting a sidelong glance at Faustin as they walked. "Most students here follow a similar path," he added with a shrug, his tone implying that Faustin's situation wasn't unique – many students had grown within the Academy before advancing to high school. Faustin didn't respond, his eyes fixed on Enid as he struggled to process his words and actions…..
Their homeroom teacher swept into the classroom, a bright smile illuminating her face as she greeted her students. She wore a loose-fitting chemise dress that billowed around her ankles, the hem whispering against the floor as she moved.
As the teacher conducted the roll-call and droned on about school policies, Faustin's attention wandered. His eyes scanned the classroom, searching for a familiar face, but Anon was nowhere to be found. It dawned on him that he shouldn't be in a freshman class. "I'm a sophomore," he murmured, interrupting the teacher.
"Pardon?" she replied, her brow furrowed in confusion.
Faustin stood up, his voice clearer this time. "I'm not meant to be here with the freshmen."
The teacher's expression turned questioning. "You recently enrolled in the Academy, didn't you? Your file says you're a freshman."
Faustin's instincts urged him to argue, but he bit back his retort and sat down instead.
Just then, the student beside him leaned in, their chair scraping softly against the floor. "You're not restrained," the student whispered, their voice low and curious. "Where are your markings?"
Faustin's gaze dropped to his wrist, and he rubbed it absently, his expression tightening. The student's words had struck a nerve, and he could feel his unease growing.