"Did I make you wait, you elite bastards?!"
The large wooden door slammed open with force, the sound echoing sharply through the school council meeting room. Papers on the nearby table rustled from the sudden gust. Sunlight streamed through the windows, slicing across the tiled floor and casting faint shadows beneath the chairs.
Three people entered like they owned the room. A young woman led the way, her steps bouncy and hurried, with two males trailing behind. She reached up and removed her sunglasses, revealing a bright red eye that locked confidently onto the five students before her.
"It's time you recognized us—Afterschool Teatime Club, you bastard!" she declared proudly, sliding her sunglasses back on and pointing at them with one hand, the other resting on her hip.
Fran Luke Noier, Age: 17. The youngest daughter of the Duke of Noier and President of the Afterschool Teatime Club. Standing tall at 6'1", Fran wore her own version of the Spiderwick girl uniform: a red shirt beneath a brown blazer draped over her shoulders, a red tie, and black trousers. Her choppy jet-black hair reached her jawline, with side-swept bangs falling to the left.
The two males behind her remained silent, but their reactions differed. The one on her left barely acknowledged anyone. Since stepping into the room, he hadn't spared the group a single glance—his icy blue eyes held no trace of interest. Hands in his pockets, his gaze drifted toward the far wall.
Milo Hylen Eloris, Age: 16. Crown Prince of the Helmien Kingdom and member of the Afterschool Teatime Club. Shorter than Fran at 5'7", his uniform mirrored her style, though he had discarded the blazer. His blue shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbows. Milo's blond hair was messy and unstyled, as if he'd just rolled out of bed—but somehow, it worked. He shifted slightly, adjusting his footing without ever looking up.
Beside Milo stood Ash Jeager, Age: 17, the Crown Prince's bodyguard. A bit shorter than Fran but taller than his master, standing at 5'9". His uniform was stripped down to a yellow button-up shirt and black trousers. Unlike the others, Ash skipped the blazer and red tie. While Fran radiated confidence and Milo seemed indifferent, Ash leaned toward nervous. His brown eyes flickered between the group and his leader. He ran a hand through his short brown hair, trying to steady himself. His shoulders were tense, and his gaze briefly dropped before returning forward.
"You're finally here..." one of the student council members said, raising his hand and snapping his fingers.
In an instant, the room plunged into pitch black. The snap echoed briefly before silence settled in. A faint hum followed, like magic shifting through the air. When the lights returned, they were no longer in the familiar school meeting room.
Instead, they stood inside a lavish chamber, surrounded by men dressed in black. The walls were deep maroon, trimmed with gold accents, and the floor was covered in a thick, patterned carpet that muffled every step. The ceiling lights were dim but warm, casting a soft glow across the space. The room was wider—almost like a lounge in a luxury hotel—with a bar lined with alcoholic drinks behind polished glass shelves. The scent of aged wood and faint incense lingered in the air.
All five student council members sat on bright red couches, a table filled with magical items placed before them. Crystals, scrolls, and small enchanted trinkets glowed faintly, pulsing with quiet energy.
"I thought the famous Afterschool Teatime Club chickened out and wasn't going to show up," said the young man seated at the center. His fingers were intertwined as he rested his chin atop them, gazing at the trio with sparkling bright blue eyes.
Alistor Hylen Eloris, Age: 17. First prince of the Helmien Kingdom. He had stepped down from his Crown Prince status, claiming it wasn't "interesting" enough. Like his younger brother, Alistor had blond hair—but unlike Milo's messy style, his was short, neat, and combed to the left. He and the other four didn't bother with school uniforms. Instead, he wore a black high-neck fitted shirt that emphasized his muscular build beneath a dark blazer, paired with tailored high-waisted trousers. His posture was composed—back straight, elbows resting lightly on his knees.
"Well, it's been a long time since some small club dared to challenge us, the student council," laughed the young man seated at the far left of the couch, his sharp brown eyes locked onto Ash in mockery.
Mash Jeager, Age: 15. Younger brother of Ash Jeager. A prodigy often recruited by prestigious academies, though he considered the title "prodigy" overrated and turned down every offer. Like Ash, Mash had brown eyes and hair, though his hair was longer—reaching his waist and styled in braids. The youngest and shortest council member wore a crisp white sailor outfit with a navy-trimmed collar and a simple black ribbon at the chest. His high-waisted navy shorts and white knee socks gave him a neat, youthful look, completed by shiny black loafers and a tilted sailor cap. He leaned forward slightly, hands gripping the couch as he kicked his legs back and forth in a childish manner.
"I can't tell if they're just brave or stupid," scoffed the young man seated between Alistor and Mash. He leaned back against the couch, arms crossed. The boredom in his amber eyes made it clear he'd rather be anywhere else.
Kael Valen, Age: 17. Third son of Duke Valen from the eastern side of the kingdom. A self-proclaimed sworn "enemy" of the Noier family—though the Noiers themselves weren't even aware of the rivalry. His dark skin marked him as unmistakably eastern-born, a rarity among the pale-toned nobles of the northern courts. Kael's crimson hair was tied in a low bun. He wore a light beige tunic with gold embroidery along the hem, paired with fitted black trousers that tapered neatly to his ankles. Brown leather sandals wrapped around his feet in smooth, crisscrossed straps, and a soft cream sash draped over one shoulder, adding a subtle touch of elegance. His gaze flicked toward Fran briefly, then away again, uninterested.
"Well, no matter what they are, they're just wasting time here," mocked the young man seated beside Alistor. His violet eyes glanced at the trio with a cocky attitude, a smirk tugging at his lips.
Orion De Layme, Age: 16. First son of the Court Mage. He decided that being a "mage" in a mage family was overdone, and now aimed to become an assassin instead. His skin was pale as snow, decorated with star-like freckles. His hair was dark as the night sky, shimmering with starlight in the strands, styled in a tousled undercut with side-swept bangs. He wore a fitted navy coat with silver trim along the cuffs and collar, layered over a soft charcoal shirt. Slim black trousers tucked into polished leather boots that rose just below the knee. A short silk cloak hung from one shoulder, fastened with a crescent-shaped clasp. A single glove covered his left hand, marked with faint runes. He rested one arm along the back of the couch, fingers tapping lightly against the fabric.
"Hmph, I don't mind. It's rare to see a girl willing to stand against us," said the petite girl seated beside Orion. A soft smile appeared on her lips as her steel-gray eyes landed on Fran with warmth.
Faye Elexandra Noier, Age: 16. First cousin of Fran Noier and youngest daughter of the General of the Helmien Kingdom. A petite girl often held up as the model of a "perfect lady" among noble circles—but secretly, she was the strongest in her family. Faye's straight jet-black hair was cut with short, choppy bangs. She wore a peach puff-sleeved blouse, a high-waisted skirt, and ankle-length boot heels. Her appearance was simple, but when she wore it, she looked every bit the perfect noble lady. Her hands rested neatly on her lap, and her smile didn't waver.
Alistor clapped his hands as the three members of the Afterschool Teatime Club took their seats on the couch before him. His smile widened as he announced, "Now that everyone's here!" He looked around at the group, then grabbed the deck of cards in front of him and tossed it into the air.
The cards scattered like falling leaves, fluttering through the air in slow arcs. As they rained down over the room, Alistor snapped his fingers and pointed at Fran.
"Let's see if we can approve the Afterschool Teatime Club's place in the school ranks!"
12th December, 2025 E.C.[1]
"Hey, my dearest daughter..." Sitting across from Fran was a man in his late forties, fingers laced together as he rested his elbows on the table. His golden eyes stared at his daughter, who was busy playing a video game on a magic console. Fran hummed in response but didn't put the console down or acknowledge him.
Duke Ethan Henry Noier, Age: 48. The current Duke of the western side of the Helheim Kingdom. Like his daughter, Ethan's hair was as dark as the night sky, reaching his mid-back and tied in a low ponytail thrown over his left shoulder. His bangs swept to the left, sometimes hiding his left eye.
The two were seated in Ethan's study—a simple yet lavish room. Books were neatly lined up on built-in shelves, while the opposite wall held glass cabinets filled with various artifacts Ethan had collected in his youth.
"It's time for you to choose your academy."
Fran finally paused her game and slowly looked up. "It's Golden Week. No need to rush," she replied flatly, then resumed playing.
"It's been a year now! Your Golden Week practically ended a year ago!" Ethan's voice rose in frustration as he pointed at the calendar on the wall. "You'll be seventeen next year—you're supposed to be in your second year by now!"
Fran pursed her lips and hid behind the console. "Eeeeh, no way. School is scary. Besides, we've got enough money to support me. What's the point of going?" she said, finally lowering the console.
"Enough—Fran, honey, it's education!"
"Education is just a suggestion."
"It's not!" Ethan held his head as Fran continued to counter every word. Where did she get that sharp tongue?
"My future is to be a rich NEET. I already have your money, so I guess my future's secure." Fran shrugged and looked back down at the console.
"Then I guess I'll have to cut you off." Ethan said seriously.
Fran didn't flinch. She casually replied, "You wouldn't dare. You're a daughter slave. If you actually cared about my education, you would've forced me to go to school ages ago."
Ethan covered his face. She was right. He was the reason she was so spoiled and introverted. That's what you get for pampering your daughter and letting her grow up indoors.
"Haaah... I have to use the last resort." Ethan pulled out his phone, dialed a number, and set it on the stand, waiting for the other side to pick up.
Fran glanced at her father in confusion but shrugged it off, continuing her game. A sudden, familiar stern voice made her whole body shiver in fear.
"Fran Luke Noier."
Fran slowly turned toward the phone screen. Her beloved yet terrifying mother's face appeared. She dropped her console instantly, scrambled out of her chair, and knelt on the floor.
"M-Mama!"
Annali "Anri" Foy Noier, Age: 54. Former General of the Helheim Kingdom, now retired and enjoying life as a mother. Currently in the Einhard Kingdom to witness the third prince's coronation. It was clear Fran inherited only part of her mother's looks. Anri's sun-kissed skin made her sharp red eyes stand out even more, framed by short silver hair that perfectly shaped her face. Unlike noble ladies who hid behind refinement, Anri never shied away from showing her muscular build or the scars that decorated her body.
"I leave you for a year, and this is what happens?" Anri's sharp, commanding voice shattered Fran's usual indifference. She knelt trembling in fear.
"I-I'm sorry, Mama..." Fran shot a glare at Ethan for using such a dirty trick—calling the true authority of the house. Ethan stood smugly, but not for long.
"Ethan Henry Noier." Her full use of his name, stripped of warmth, was enough to make the Duke collapse to his knees beside Fran.
"Y-yes, darling?" Ethan swallowed nervously, earning a side-eye from his daughter.
"Send Fran to Spiderwick Academy."
"Yes, my sweetheart—" Ethan's eyes widened as the words sank in. He shouted, "Wait, Spiderwick Academy?!"
[1] 📜 Era System Overview: Era of Origin (E.O.) The ancient age before magic-tech. Magic was wild, sacred, and rare—used by sages, not society. Era of Ignition (E.I.) The turning point. Leyline reactors were invented, sparking the fusion of magic and technology. Era of Convergence (E.C.) The modern age. Magic powers everything—from smartphones to cities. Society runs on spell-tech.