Sunlight spilled through the tall windows of Lyra's room, painting the walls in streaks of gold. Dust particles floated lazily in the air, catching the light like tiny suspended stars. Lyra blinked against the brightness, the weight of the day pressing down on her chest. Today was the midterm survival test: ten days in the Dark Jungle, paired with someone she barely knew. And not just anyone—Liro.
Her stomach tightened at the thought. White hair, crimson eyes, top of the class in every subject, and rumored to be untouchably intelligent. People said he was frightening, even dangerous—not because he was violent, but because he was too perfect, too capable, and utterly unreadable.
He was a genius. A prodigy. Probably able to cast high-level spells without even breathing.
Lyra shuddered. She smoothed her hair, carefully arranging each strand, pressing her uniform until it was immaculate. She would not allow herself to appear flustered. She had to be ready. She had to be perfect.
The Helmef Academy pulsed with energy as she walked through its grand halls. Magical murals shifted on the walls, depicting famous duels, legendary beasts, and great adventurers from across the world. Students bustled past, chatting excitedly, some practicing minor spells in the hallways—flames dancing harmlessly in their palms, illusions of birds taking flight. Lyra kept her pace steady, her eyes searching for Liro.
And then she saw him.
He lounged by the window, one hand resting on a small dragon curled on his shoulder. The creature was no larger than a cat, its violet scales glinting faintly, eyes half-closed as though it owned the room. Liro's crimson gaze met hers, sharp but not hostile, and his smirk…
Gods, he was ridiculous.
Lyra froze. A dragon. Here. On his shoulder.
Dragons were rare, yes, but the ones that terrified kingdoms were rarer still. Most were small, docile, or indifferent. Only a handful ever reached the dreaded SSS-tier, the kind that required armies to suppress. This one—Sofi, as Lyra later learned—was harmless in comparison. Intelligent, calm, and far from terrifying. Citizens rarely feared her; they simply gave her respect.
Lyra swallowed and sat across from him. Her hands clenched on the desk, nails biting her palms. Her pulse hammered.
"You are Lyra, correct?" Liro asked, his tone calm yet teasing.
"Yes," she replied, forcing composure. "And you are… Liro."
"The infamous, terrifying genius. Heard much about me?" His smirk widened, his fingers idly scratching Sofi's spiny head.
"Perhaps," she admitted, unable to hide her fascination. "People… talk."
"Of course they do. Easier to call me a monster than admit they feel small. Classic." He leaned back, one arm resting lazily over his chair.
Lyra blinked. He was… normal. Arrogant, yes. Amused, yes. But not the inhuman monster rumors made him out to be. Some of the tension in her chest loosened.
Class began. The teacher outlined the test: teleportation to the Dark Jungle, survival rules, emergency alarm buttons, and the grading criteria. Lyra listened closely, though her attention often flickered toward Liro. Sofi shifted on his shoulder, purring softly, her tail curling around his arm.
After class, they moved to an empty corner to plan. Lyra's fingers twisted together as she spoke.
"So… we should decide what to hunt," she said, her voice wavering.
He tilted his head, eyes glinting. "Yes. Let us hear what the elegant Lyra proposes. But first—what is your primary magic? I prefer to know who I am dragging along."
Lyra stiffened. "Wind. Speed and ranged attacks."
"Assassin type," he mused. "Fast, clever, hit and run. Not bad. Makes my life easier… with luck."
"With luck?" Her brows furrowed.
"You know, with luck I will not have to carry you the whole time." His smirk deepened. Sofi chirped, as though in agreement.
Lyra's teeth clenched, but she forced her voice steady. "I will not slow you down."
"Good." He leaned closer, his eyes amused. "Then we can set our sights high. Perhaps an S-rank."
Lyra nearly choked. "Are you mad? Even elite parties avoid S-ranks. Suggesting it for a test is suicide."
"Are you frightened, country bumpkin?"
Her cheeks heated. "Do not call me that. I am not frightened—I am rational. There is a difference. We should aim for a B-rank at most."
He laughed, sharp and mocking. "B-rank? That is boring. Very well, what about the Lion Croco?"
Lyra's frown deepened. "Absolutely not. That beast borders on A-rank. You cannot be serious."
"You truly are pathetic," he said flatly, irritation flickering in his voice. Sofi gave a short chirp, as if echoing him.
"Do not insult me," she snapped. "Go alone then. You will fail without me."
He studied her for a long moment, his smirk fading to something cooler. "Fine. But if you hold me back, I will abandon you. Understand, pretty face?"
Her jaw tightened. "Agreed. And stop insulting me."
Silence stretched between them. Then, unexpectedly, Lyra caught herself exhaling. He was arrogant, insufferable, even crude—but still just a boy. A boy with sharp eyes, sharper words, and no patience for weakness, yet undeniably human. Not the monster others claimed.
Her gaze drifted to Sofi, who watched her with intelligent, lazy eyes. Perhaps this trial would not be unbearable after all.
"Very well," she said, folding her arms. "We will aim for the Lion Croco. But if you get us killed, I will make certain you are remembered as the fool who dragged me down with him."
Liro grinned, his white teeth flashing. "Accountable? How charming. Do not worry, country bumpkin. Sofi and I will carry you."
Sofi purred, curling her tail more tightly around him, as though agreeing. Lyra's stomach sank.
Perhaps this would be hell after all.