"Yo, if it isn't the famous 'Dream Lover'?" Noelle teased.
"I'm used to it. No need to remind me," Morin replied, tone flat.
"It's different now. Back then, you were just the dream lover of ordinary people!"
"And now I'm the dream lover of a bunch of lizards?" Morin countered.
"Uh... I guess... that's one way to put it..." Noelle hesitated.
"Then why should I be proud?" Morin waved her off. Shutting Noelle down had become part of his daily routine.
"So arrogant. Just wait, I'll make things difficult for you later," Noelle glared. "I'm collecting the exam papers. I might 'accidentally' change your answers."
"Mm-hmm. Don't believe you," Morin shook his head.
"Why not?"
"Because our fair and just Disciplinary Professor, Manstein, is standing right there. Isn't that right, Professor?" Morin looked past her.
"This trick again-" Noelle started, but Professor Manstein stepped out, scanned the room, and checked his watch.
"Everyone is present. I will now announce the exam regulations."
Noelle fell silent, shooting a sharp glare at Morin, who smiled back.
Lancelot sat nearby with an expression that screamed I'm just a background character. He glanced around. Cassell College really was full of beautiful people. Put them in his old high school, and the boys would be legendary heartthrobs, the girls untouchable idols. The custom uniforms only heightened the elite atmosphere.
"Cheating is strictly forbidden. Violators will be disqualified. Do not look at others' papers; the cameras are active. Do not carry electronic devices; radio signals are monitored!" Manstein continued. "I'll say this clearly: people more brilliant than you-as brilliant as the best in this room-have already taken this exam. Every cheating method you can imagine has been tried."
Halfway through, Manstein realized his warning was aimed at an S-rank and an A-rank who had defeated an S-rank-and was now basically treated as one himself. The video of Morin and Lancelot's fight had spread all over the forum. It proved they could use Talent even under the effects of [Commandment].
The Vice Principal's Talent, [Commandment], was an S-rank ability that suppressed the Talent of anyone with a lower bloodline. A massive alchemical matrix beneath the campus amplified it across the entire school. That was the only reason the "Day of Liberty" was allowed. Otherwise, someone would eventually lose control and kill someone.
With Commandment, they were just violent students.
Without it, the school was a dragon's nest.
Yet Morin and Lancelot acted as if Commandment didn't exist. The golden aura wasn't a visual trick, nor were the flames on the Weight of the World.
It was proof of strength.
Everyone expected two S-ranks after the 3E exam.
Lancelot yawned and looked out the window. It was a beautiful day. Sunlight poured in, coating the walnut desks in gold.
That was when he noticed a girl.
She was petite, seated by the window. Her skin was porcelain-white, like polar snow. She had taken off her uniform blazer, wearing a low-cut white T-shirt. Pale, almost white-blonde hair was braided and coiled into a bun, exposing a slender, elegant neck.
She looked like an ice sculpture.
Lancelot felt a strange sense of familiarity, then dismissed it. He rarely saw blonde girls. Someone this striking would have left an impression.
"In love?" a familiar voice whispered near his ear. "Go for it."
"Boss, don't talk nonsense," Lancelot hissed, lowering his voice. "She just looks familiar."
"Sure. 'Love at first sight.' I get it." Morin nodded. "You're a white-hair fan. It's practically a national hobby."
"I am not," Lancelot argued. "I just like pretty girls."
"Fair enough. Same here." Morin gave him a thumbs-up.
"All right," Manstein said. "The exam is about to begin. Turn off your phones and place them on the corner of your desk with your student ID."
Phones clicked off across the room. Black shutters slid down over the windows, leaving only the wall lamps. Noelle handed out thick stacks of paper-multiple A4 sheets-along with sharpened pencils.
The papers were blank.
Confusion rippled through the room.
"Do not question it. There is nothing wrong with the papers," Manstein said. "I will be outside. You may ask questions. Discussion is permitted, as long as you do not copy others' answers. Good luck."
The doors closed behind them.
A loud, heavy rock song blasted through the room.
Michael Jackson's Beat It.
Everyone instinctively looked toward the two strongest people present. Morin had his eyes closed, fingers tapping to the beat. Lancelot stared blankly at his desk.
The big shots are ready, people thought, calming down as they followed suit.
Lancelot, however, was still dazed.
He hadn't bought answers from Fingal, but he knew the process. The school embedded Draconic Script in sub-melodies, using loud music as cover. Anyone with dragon blood would experience Visions and record them. Grading was based on those records.
Just wait for the Vision, he thought.
Then he realized the room was silent.
The shutters were gone. Sunlight returned. The classroom was empty.
The sensation was familiar.
He had felt it twice before.
He turned and saw the familiar figure-a boy in a perfectly tailored suit, sitting by the window, gazing outside.
Lancelot jumped up and lunged at him.
"How dare you show your face to me again!"
"Brother." Little Lu didn't move. He turned, smiling gently. Sunlight framed him like an angel. "Is that how you speak to your brother?"
"Don't start," Lancelot snapped. "I believed your lies. Tell me-were you the one controlling my body?"
"Of course not. If it were me, would you still remember?" Little Lu reached out.
Instinctively, Lancelot took his hand and was led to the windowsill. He sat beside him like a girl invited by a prince-
Wait. I'm a guy. I like girls.
"That was your own power, Brother," Little Lu said.
"Then why did I do those things?" Lancelot demanded. "I'm the kind of student who helps old ladies cross the street."
"When you wish to deceive others, you must first deceive yourself," Little Lu murmured, eyes distant. "The power was yours. The decision was yours. The words were yours."
"Liar!" Lancelot shouted. "I'm a good person-"
"Are you afraid, Brother?" Little Lu turned to him. Burning gold flooded his pupils. His voice carried the weight of a proclamation, splitting Lancelot's head with pain. "That is you. Those are your truest thoughts. You want to be the strongest. You don't want to listen to anyone. You want to do what you want and take what you want."
Lancelot stared until the gold faded.
"So." Little Lu smiled, angelic. "The trade. One-quarter of your life in exchange for unimaginable power."
Lancelot shivered. He knew the boy meant it.
"Putting aside how you'd take it," Lancelot said, "if I gave it to you, how strong would I be? Could I beat the Boss?"
"Of course..." Little Lu began, then froze. His face reddened. "You could... hold out a little longer."
"Then what's the point?" Lancelot shot back. "I'll just hide behind the Boss and enjoy the free ride."
"Brother, I'm being honest and kind. Have some sympathy," Little Lu said sadly. "Honest merchants are rare these days."
"You literally just called yourself a merchant," Lancelot sighed. He reached out and patted the boy's hair. "You'd be pretty cute if you weren't trying to kill me. Honestly, better than the real you."
"But I do want your life," Little Lu said calmly. "Or you could take mine."
"What kind of cannibal tribe taught you that?" Lancelot complained, looking out the window and breathing deeply. "Why can't you just enjoy life? Why all the killing?"
"This is your Vision, Brother," Little Lu whispered.
"Yeah, I know. The Boss told me." Lancelot paused. "But next time, can you pick a better time? Like when I'm asleep? If I keep blacking out, people will think I'm sick-"
A massive force slammed into his back.
Little Lu had pushed him.
Lancelot fell.
The classroom vanished. He was atop a high tower by the sea. Below were jagged rocks, not soft grass. If he hit them, there would be nothing left to recognize.
Above him, Little Lu stood and waved. Behind him, the sun was setting, vast and red. His lips moved.
Lightning tore through Lancelot's mind.
A stormy night.
A cold altar.
Him and Little Lu huddled together in the dark.
He understood the final words.
"You have no 'Boss.' No one is worthy of being yours."
Morin watched with interest as Lancelot drew a picture on his paper. Then Morin wrote something himself and covered it with a blank sheet.
As a Child of the Dragon, he could understand the Draconic Script hidden in the music. But he didn't experience a Vision.
For others, it was resonance with the deepest layer of their bloodline.
For him, it was just listening to a group of lizards singing a decent song.
Like a Siberian tiger listening to a house cat meow.