The world was swallowed in haze. Nothing had form, nothing had shape—just a vast blur that stretched endlessly in every direction. Kazui drifted in the middle of it, floating as though gravity itself had taken the day off. Sight was useless; the fog was too thick, the outlines too vague.
"...Kazui..."
The whisper curled through the mist, soft and feminine, as if someone was standing behind him. It carried a quiet sadness, almost melodic, and his name stretched like a sigh. Kazui twitched, craning his head in vain. His limbs felt sluggish, like his whole body was stuck under water.
"Kazui."
This one was deeper. Masculine. Calm, steady, with a weight that carried authority. It had the strange familiarity of someone who'd always been around him, even if he couldn't put a face to it. His heart gave a single, nervous thump.
"Kazui!"
The third voice rang sharp, cutting through the haze like the crack of a whip. His whole body jolted as if shocked. The command in that tone snapped him upright—or at least, it felt like upright, given that his feet weren't touching anything.
"KAZUI!"
The final roar thundered through the fog, rattling in his chest so violently that it stole the breath from his lungs.
His eyes flew open.
Kazui gasped, sucking in air like he'd been drowning. His crimson eyes darted around until they settled on his ceiling—cream-colored, faint cracks spidering out from the corner he'd stared at a hundred times before. His bedroom. His bed. The faintly dusty smell of his sheets and the detergent his mom used clung to the air.
He lay still for a moment, chest heaving, sweat cooling against his forehead.
"What the hell was that dream...?" he mumbled, voice thick with sleep. "Some knock-off Gorchudd or something? Next thing I know, a big-nosed old man's gonna tell me I'm 'destined for great power' and shove a contract in my face."
With a grunt, he sat up and dragged his hand through his jet-black hair, successfully making his bedhead even worse. The strands stuck out in wild, rebellious spikes, and he squinted at his reflection in the dark screen of his TV.
"...Still handsome, though." He smirked to himself, stretching with an exaggerated yawn.
On his desk, the alarm clock blinked a smug red: 07:00 AM.
"Tch. Seven already?" He scratched his neck, scowling. "Man, if I were in an anime, this would be the part where I yell 'I'm late!' and run to school with toast in my mouth. Too bad I prefer rice."
Yawning again, he swung his legs off the bed, his bare feet pressing to the cool floorboards. His whole body still felt heavy with sleep as he trudged toward the door.
Downstairs, the house was already alive.
The living room TV flickered with the polished tones of a news anchor. On the sofa, Azuma Shinso sat reclined, remote in hand. His black hair was cropped short, streaked faintly with silver, and even in his casual wear, he radiated the kind of presence that made most people straighten up around him. He wasn't straightening now—he was slouched, a faint grin tugging at his lips as he watched the broadcast.
From the kitchen came the aroma of sizzling oil and the light clatter of utensils. Sasha Valei, Kazui's mother, moved with an ease born of routine. Her short green hair swayed with her motions, crimson eyes sharp and focused on the pan even as she hummed to herself.
Kazui trudged down the stairs, scratching his messy head of hair and dragging his feet across the floor. "Mooorniiiing," he mumbled, his voice more dramatic than tired.
Shinso grunted in acknowledgment without looking away from the TV. Sasha, however, turned, her expression softening.
"Morning, Kazui. You look awful," she teased lightly.
"Thanks, Mom. I love you too," Kazui deadpanned. He flopped against the bannister for emphasis. "Don't worry, though. The world still gets to bask in my natural good looks."
Sasha shook her head, amused. "Go wash yourself first before breakfast," she said, pointing her spatula toward the washroom with mock severity.
"Yesss, ma'am," Kazui said, raising both hands in mock surrender. "No need for the spatula of doom."
The television's broadcast droned on, camera sweeping dramatically across the grand sprawl of Roozlent Academy. Towering buildings gleamed with polished steel and glass, walkways lined with pristine trees, and every angle practically screamed "future utopia."
The reporter's voice carried crisp enthusiasm.
"Roozlent Academy, an elite educational institution, continues to be praised as a hub of talent and innovation. Its students are widely regarded as the brightest of their generation. Many have called Roozlent Academy a place one hundred years ahead of its time..."
The feed showed bustling courtyards, uniformed students, and laboratories full of sleek tech—all hiding the truth.
Shinso chuckled to himself, shaking his head. "If only ordinary people knew that 'future tech' is just alchemy in disguise... ha."
At that moment, Kazui reappeared from the washroom, towel draped around his neck, damp hair sticking up even more than before. He wandered toward the dining table, pausing only when his eyes flicked toward the glowing screen.
"Yeah, better they don't know," he said with a lazy shrug.
Shinso arched a brow. "Oh? Why's that?"
Kazui leaned on the back of a chair with one elbow, expression casual. "Because I've seen this anime before. Secret magic, alchemy, monsters—you name it. Keep it hidden 'for their own good' or you end up with chaos. If regular humans got their hands on this stuff, the world'd go from zero to apocalypse before the opening credits ended."
Shinso chuckled, stroking his chin. "You're not wrong. And it's not just alchemy. Magicians, mana, monsters... if all that got dumped on the public, society would snap in half."
Kazui smirked, snorting through his nose. "When are people ever ready for anything?"
That landed like a well-placed punchline. Shinso laughed heartily, tilting his head back. "Ha! True enough, son. True enough."
"Breakfast is ready!" Sasha's voice carried from the kitchen, followed by the clatter of plates.
She emerged with a tray stacked high: steaming omelets, grilled fish, bowls of miso soup, and a mountain of rice that could feed an army. The scent alone made Kazui's eyes sparkle, his entire body perking up as though he'd just leveled up in an RPG.
"Whoa..." He clasped his hands dramatically, eyes shining. "Behold! The legendary breakfast feast! Truly, my journey has not been in vain."
Sasha chuckled, setting the tray down. "Don't just admire it. Sit down and eat before it gets cold."
Kazui didn't need to be told twice. He slid into his chair with the speed of a man possessed. "Right, right. Itadakimasu!"
Shinso grinned, taking his own seat. "Itadakimasu."
Sasha sat opposite them, her smile gentle as she joined. "Itadakimasu."
The sound of chopsticks filled the air as the three began their meal. Kazui wasted no time, shoveling rice into his mouth with unrestrained enthusiasm. His parents exchanged looks—equal parts exasperated and amused—as their son practically hummed with happiness over every bite.
For a few minutes, the house was filled with nothing more than the simple sounds of family life: clinking dishes, muted television buzz, the faint hum of morning outside the window.
Kazui leaned back with a content sigh, grinning at the food as though it had just confessed its love to him.
"Yep," he said between mouthfuls, "life is good."
And for now, it was. Just a morning. Just a dream he couldn't quite place. Just warmth and family, with Roozlent Academy's pristine facade flashing silently on the TV.
But beneath that polished screen, the world's secrets stirred. Alchemy. Mana. Monsters. A hidden truth waiting to break free.
Kazui shoveled another spoonful of rice into his mouth, blissfully unaware of just how quickly that warmth would be tested.