Lucien stood at the doorway of his small, stone-built home, his black boots polished to a shine. His collar was straightened and adjusted, fussed over by his mother's meticulous fingers.
"My little demon lord got into the academy!" Beatrice exclaimed, her crimson eyes sparkling with pride. She pressed loud, enthusiastic kisses to both his cheeks. "Mama's so proud!"
Lucien groaned, trying to step back. "Mom… stop it…"
Ronald appeared behind them, leaning casually against the doorframe, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Are we all ready?"
Beatrice nodded eagerly. "Yes! Let's go!"
The family stepped outside, the crisp morning air brushing Lucien's pale face. In the distance, the tower spires of Aethercrest Academy gleamed in the early sun.
---
Aethercrest Academy – Principal's Office
The office was vast, the air cool and still. Arched windows let in streaks of dark-orange light, and banners of the Nine Bloodlines hung proudly along the high walls. Behind a wide obsidian desk sat a woman whose sleek black hair shimmered with an almost unnatural glow. Her crimson eyes gleamed like rubies under the shadowed light.
"What do you mean, you are qualified?" Her voice was sharp, slicing through the quiet room. "Lucien Crowe?"
Lucien froze between his parents, his heart hammering in his chest.
Beatrice blinked. "W-What?"
Ronald stepped forward, holding a letter sealed with the academy's emblem. "We received this… it says he's been accepted."
The woman snatched the letter, skimmed it briefly, and then let it fall onto the desk as though it were worthless. "That letter was a mistake."
Lucien's breath caught. What?
His fingers curled slowly, disbelief settling over him. This has to be a dream. Dad and I are still in bed.
"I should have stayed home… just hammered blades and lived quietly," he muttered under his breath.
Beatrice's voice cracked with emotion. "A mistake? You sent us this!"
The principal's tone remained calm—calm, but sharp as a knife. "The letter was only a placeholder. The real one never went out. We sent the standard invitation. Nothing more."
"So… there's another letter?" Lucien asked quietly.
The woman stood, her presence flaring slightly, a wave of pressure rolling through the room. "Yes. One meant for the manaless demon boy. I was… curious. Curious to see how someone with no mana dares to dream of standing here."
Lucien's head sank.
"You aren't even a mudblood," she spat, venom in her words. "You are beneath that. A stain. Don't insult us."
Lucien clenched his fists. "S-sorry…"
Beatrice stepped forward, her voice shaking but fierce. "He may be manaless, not even worthy of mudblood rank, but he's my son. And I promise you—he's more deserving than any of those spoiled brats running around this place with their glowing eyes and fangs!"
Tears streamed down her cheeks. "So please… don't crush his dream."
Ronald placed a hand on her shoulder. "Come on, Bea. Let's go. This was a mistake."
Lucien's palm brushed across the obsidian desk as he stepped back. A sharp edge nicked his hand. "Ah—!"
Beatrice gasped. "You're bleeding!"
She tore a piece of her sleeve and wrapped his finger, but a few drops had already fallen onto the black marble floor.
The scent lingered. The principal froze. Her pupils dilated, the veins under her eyes darkened, and her breathing slowed.
Ronald helped Lucien up. "Let's handle this at home."
"Wait."
The principal's voice shifted, calm but different. "Sit down. Let's talk."
Ronald narrowed his eyes. "There's nothing to discuss."
"There is," she said, her gaze fixed on Lucien. "If you want to protect your son… you'll listen."
Beatrice and Ronald exchanged wary glances.
"Lucien is manaless. In the Nine-Bloodline Kingdom of Velmoria, that's a curse. A mistake." She circled the desk slowly. "Demons, vampires, witches… they won't tolerate a flaw like this. And when they learn what he is—or what he isn't… they won't stop at him. They'll come for you too."
Beatrice and Ronald sank into their seats, stunned.
The principal continued. "He took the mana test. The orb glowed."
Ronald blinked. "It did?"
"Yes. Not blue. Crimson. A glow we couldn't comprehend. So we marked it a fail."
Lucien's brow furrowed. "What does that mean?"
The principal smiled slightly. "It means you are an enigma. And that's dangerous. So… we will enroll you. Quietly. You'll enter as a transfer student. No questions asked."
Beatrice blinked. "Is that… allowed?"
"We've done it before," the principal replied smoothly. She snapped her fingers, and a small goblin scurried in, placing a wrapped package on the desk before darting away.
Lucien opened it. "A white uniform?"
"Yes. Crimson is for nobles. Ash-grey for mudbloods. But you—Lucien—you are something else."
Beatrice frowned. "Won't that cause discrimination?"
"Of course," the principal said. "Hierarchy rules here. High-bloods dominate mudbloods. Everyone knows their place. But you…" Her eyes darkened. "You're below the food chain."
Lucien frowned. "You say that like they're going to eat me."
The principal smirked. "You're catching on."
She turned to Beatrice and Ronald. "Go home. Your son begins… now."
Lucien stepped forward. "I'm ready. I've wanted this my whole life. Please… let me do this."
Beatrice's lips quivered. Ronald gave her a reassuring nod.
"Fine," she whispered. "But be careful."
They left the room, eyes damp.
The principal clapped. "There's a restroom behind that door. Go change. Unless…" She leaned forward, her voice silky. "You want to undress in front of me?"
Lucien gave a tight, awkward smile. "I'll use the restroom."
He disappeared behind the door.
Moments later, he emerged in gleaming white. A subtle crimson thread wove across the chest in the shape of the academy's sigil.
The principal walked toward him. "Let's start over. I'm Nyssara Vaelthorn, principal of Aethercrest Academy."
Lucien smiled. "Nice to meet you, Miss—"
She pressed her lips to his cheek. Soft. Unexpected.
Lucien jerked back. "Wha—?!"
Nyssara grinned. "So that was your first kiss? Precious. You can call me Nyssara from now on."
Lucien frowned. "That's not happening. You're the principal."
She vanished. Reappeared inches from his face. "You can call me whatever you want… Lucien."
His heart raced.
In a blink, she was back in her chair, legs crossed, smug expression in place.
"If you need anything," she purred, "come to me. I'm always… available."
Lucien swallowed hard. "Y-Yes, Nyssara."
"Much better," she whispered.
He turned to leave.
"One more thing," she called, voice cold. "Stay away from the high-bloods."
Lucien paused. "Are you… saying I'm in danger?"
She licked her lips slowly. "Only if I'm not around."
Lucien left quickly.
Nyssara lingered, pulling out a vial of blood. She drank, flushed, pupils dilated, breathing ragged.
"Lucien… What are you?" she whispered. Fangs glinting, blood dripping from her hand. "I can't wait to have you… all to myself."
---
Classroom
The teacher paused mid-lesson as a shadow appeared in the doorway.
"He's here," she whispered with a smile.
Lucien entered, dressed in white. The room fell silent.
Murmurs spread quickly. "A white uniform? What bloodline is that?"
He stood before them. "Good day. I'm Lucien Crowe. I'll be studying with you."
The teacher nodded. "Take a seat at the back."
Lucien walked slowly, noting the division of the classroom: crimson on the left—high-bloods; ash-grey on the right—mudbloods.
He moved toward the back row… and then—
Trip.
He hit the floor. Laughter erupted.
"Oops," a boy smirked. "Didn't see you there."
Lucien chuckled softly. "Mistakes happen."
He slid into his seat, silent, observing the classroom around him.
The teacher cleared her throat. "Let's begin."
Lucien sighed. "I just need a peaceful academy life to survive… how hard can that be?"
---
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