The room was neither too large nor too small, but just the right size—perfectly measured, perfectly balanced.
Directly opposite the metal door stood a wardrobe, surprisingly filled with clothes. From formal gowns for evening banquets to casual attire for everyday wear, and even a set of specially marked training uniforms—all occasions had been accounted for. From the moment Casia's personal file was submitted to the Imperial Military Academy, every detail of his stay had been prepared. The academy's efficiency was nothing short of astonishing.
Next to the wardrobe was a standard-issue steel-framed single bed. On the opposite side stood a desk, also forged from iron, with a finely crafted chair beside it. The wall held another door, leading into a compact bathroom. That was all there was to the room—unless one also counted the small items neatly arranged on the desk.
Casia tossed the book in his hand onto the bed and sat down at the desk, staring at the new objects laid out before him.
The first was an academy identification card, with his own color photo printed on it—an uncharacteristically bright smile captured on his face. Beneath it were his basic details, followed by the number 1024, and the seal of the First Three-Star Academy.
Next lay a copper-red bank card with gilded edges, bearing the unmistakable crest of the Empire's Golden Bank. A brief instruction sheet was attached, listing his account number, the original password, and a generous stipend of 10,000 Saint Coins per month, directly issued by the academy.
"No wonder this is an Imperial institution," Casia muttered, eyes burning as he read the bold-printed digits. "The wealth and generosity here are on another level entirely."
Eagerly, he slid the card into the slot built into the wall. With a faint hiss, a steam-powered mechanism clicked into place. Numbers spun across the clock-like dial embedded in the wall until they stopped firmly at 10,000. His very first month's allowance had already been deposited.
A broad grin spread across his face. To him, money was the finest gift of all.
He picked up the final card on the desk—a password card. Its surface glimmered with countless tiny exposed gears, engraved with his number 1024 and the emblem of the Three-Star Academy.
The card was wrapped in a sheet of snow-white paper with black Imperial script printed on the back. It instructed new students to insert the card into the wall slot immediately, so that the Super Analyzer could record their enrollment data and generate timetables. This would allow coaches to track their progress and assign the most efficient schedules.
Casia slid the card into the slot. The room's excellent soundproofing allowed only the faint ticking of gears to be heard. The Military Academy's personal Super Analyzer connected to countless sub-machines, serving hundreds of thousands of students.
After several minutes, the card was ejected. A hidden seam opened in the wall, spitting out a freshly printed sheet of paper, still warm and smelling of heavy ink.
"Casia Tussos," it read. "First, congratulations on your successful admission. Your information has been fully recorded. With cooperation between the Analyzer, coaches, and professors, your training plan has been arranged. Classes begin tomorrow at 8 p.m. From now until then, refrain from eating to avoid interfering with training results. — First Three-Star Academy, Imperial Military School."
On the reverse was written the reporting location: Biology Building.
"Biology?" Casia froze. "Wait… I don't even know what my major is supposed to be!"
In his old Imperial Heavy Industry school, he had majored in steam mechanical transmission and turbine systems. But here? He hadn't even been given the chance to choose. Apart from a campus map, the desk held no other academic information.
"Don't tell me they've already shoved me into the Biology division," he muttered grimly. He knew little about biology—aside from basic battlefield knowledge like bloodfly reproduction cycles or carrion wolf pack behavior. His focus until now had been steam mechanics and theology.
If his mechanical studies had gone nowhere, he had planned to become a Saint Envoy—a simple, stable position granted by the Empire, with a modest stipend, housing, and security for his mother and sister.
Now, however, he felt utterly out of his depth. Perhaps his fellow students would know more. He decided he would ask around, maybe even get some drinking water on the way.
Although he could endure hunger, the thought of going without water until tomorrow was unpleasant. From the cupboard beneath his desk, he pulled out a small kettle.
He noted the nearest cafeteria on the map, then headed next door, knocking on the door of Room 1023.
"Hello?" Casia called.
The heavy steel door, powered by steam and opened only with a password card, clicked and swung open.
Standing there was a young woman. She was still drying her damp hair with a towel, wrapped in a soft white bathrobe that smelled faintly of rich rose perfume—the kind only high-grade spice could achieve. Her figure was tall and athletic, her sun-kissed skin radiating health and strength, unlike the pale delicacy of noble girls.
Most importantly, she was stunning.
Casia's carefully prepared words shriveled and died on his tongue. Aside from his mother, sister, and Nor, his contact with women was minimal. The factory had left him surrounded by machines, watches, and the occasional conversation with Aunt Mary—who, at thirty, had far too many words for anyone's comfort.
"Are you going to fetch water from the cafeteria?" Casia blurted nervously, cheeks flushed. He immediately regretted speaking, praying the girl would simply refuse.
"Ah, no need."
Success. Relief surged through him. He began edging away, intent on slipping off unnoticed.
But the door reopened, and she emerged—now dressed in a light blue dress, hair still damp, wooden clogs clacking loudly on the steel floor. She tossed him her kettle.
"Take it," she said flatly, still combing through her wet hair.
Casia froze. She hadn't noticed his attempt to escape at all.
"The fat one, Atto Ring—didn't he tell you the time? You're early by a few minutes," she remarked, frowning.
When Casia hesitated, she turned sharply, her eyes flashing. "Next time this happens, our company won't welcome you. Understand?"
"Actually… I think you've mistaken me for someone else. I don't know any Atto Ring," Casia admitted awkwardly, guilt coloring his face.
The girl paused. "Selmer Bendok?"
"No. Casia Tussos," he replied.
"Yekaterina Weberly." She gave her name politely.
"So you weren't introduced by Atto Ring."
"That's right." Casia nodded apologetically.
Together they turned—and in the distance, through the glass railings of the seventh-floor corridor, Casia glimpsed a massive figure knocking at Room 1023's door.
"Forget him," Yekaterina sighed. "Water's more important. I haven't eaten all day."
She glanced at him suddenly. "Show me your ID card."
Caught off guard, Casia handed it over.
"1024… You're the one next door! The so-called prodigy!" Her eyes widened. She studied him closely, gaze lingering on the half-healed wounds across his chest and jaw.
"You're already famous, you know? Half a day, and the news has swept the entire First to Fifth Three-Star Academies. Everyone's curious about you. They say the academy broke precedent just for you—and we've been calling you the 'Super Genius.'"
"I've been here less than an hour. I don't know anything about this," Casia replied, unease settling in his chest. He recalled how respectfully students treated Burang, the instructor who'd escorted him here. Clearly, that man was no ordinary teacher.
Yekaterina chuckled. "So, will you accept my invitation? Join my alliance." Her eyes gleamed mischievously. "It's rare to stumble across such good fortune. And it's not my style to miss a chance."
Her words were both invitation and declaration.