Morning came too early. It arrived with the subtle grace of a brick to the face.
Arion stepped out of the dormitory building, stifling a yawn that threatened to unhinge his jaw. He adjusted his collar, trying to look like a functioning human being. The sky was still a pale, bruised grey, the Academy towers cutting into the dawn like sharpened spears against a reluctant sun.
He expected quiet. He expected the sweet, solitary silence of a world before people woke up to ruin it.
He was wrong.
Two first-years were standing near the entrance, huddled in their oversized blazers. They froze mid-conversation when the heavy oak door creaked open.
"…It's him."
"The forest guy."
Arion paused, one foot hovering over the stone step. The forest guy? That was new. Usually, it was "The Failure" or "The Old Guy." He wasn't sure if "Forest Guy" was a promotion or a demotion.
"Morning," Arion offered, raising a hand.
They scattered like pigeons, vanishing around the corner in a blur of terrified whispers.
Arion blinked at the empty space where they had just been. "Definitely a lateral move," he muttered.
Female Dormitory – Exousia's Room
Exousia Ignis had not slept. Not properly.
She sat upright in her four-poster bed, surrounded by silk pillows that cost more than a commoner's house, replaying yesterday's scene in vicious, high-definition detail.
The ring. The way he caught her wrist. The sweating. The whispering in the woods. The fact that he laughed when she accused him.
She slammed a pillow into her mattress.
"A promise ring?!" she hissed to the empty room. "Who promises not to die?! That's the bare minimum of living!"
Her roommate, a minor noble with a penchant for romance novels, peeked over her duvet. Her hair was in curlers. "Are you still thinking about that?" the girl asked sleepily.
"He said he promised not to die!" Exousia ranted, throwing her hands up. "It makes no sense! Unless… unless the promise is to return to someone. Someone he loves. Someone he can't bear to leave behind in this mortal coil!"
"That sounds romantic," her roommate sighed, clutching her blanket.
"It does NOT!" Exousia shrieked. "It sounds suspicious! It sounds like a cover story for a clandestine affair with a faculty member!"
"But it's a ring…" the girl pointed out reasonably. "And they were alone in the woods. And he blocked a fire kick for her."
Exousia's face burned. The logic was sound. Horrifyingly sound. "It's inappropriate! It's scandalous! It's…" She struggled for the word. "It's cheating! He's cheating the system with the power of… of romance!"
The Courtyard
As Arion crossed the main courtyard, the atmosphere was different. The usual indifference he received as "The Failure" had evaporated. In its place was a heavy, suffocating curiosity.
Conversations lowered as he passed. Heads turned. Eyes followed him.
He heard fragments floating on the wind.
"…saw the vow-band…"
"…older teacher…"
"…in the woods…"
"…breathless…"
"…scandalous…"
He slowed his pace. The rumors were evolving. They were mutating. Yesterday, he was a failure. Today, he was apparently the protagonist of a steamy forbidden romance novel.
He smiled. "Oh," he muttered to himself. "They upgraded the story. At least the plot is moving."
Balcony Above
Sebastian Ambrose leaned against the stone railing of the high balcony, watching the courtyard below. His posture was perfect, his uniform immaculate, but his expression was troubled.
He watched Arion walking—slow, unbothered, hands in pockets.
"Engagement rumors are inefficient," Sebastian murmured.
A fellow noble, a boy who lived for drama, approached him. "Are you going to challenge him?"
"For what?" Sebastian asked without looking away.
"For stealing a teacher. For disrupting the order. For… I don't know, looking like that."
Sebastian's brow furrowed. "…That's not how mentorship works. You cannot 'steal' a teacher. She chose him."
"But it's dramatic!" the boy insisted. "Think of the duel! The honor!"
Sebastian exhaled, a long, weary sound. "This Academy is exhausting. Everyone wants a story. I just want to know how he cast Aegis without a geometric base."
He looked down at Arion again. He isn't romantic, Sebastian thought. He's efficient. The ring isn't a vow. It's a tool.
Faculty Corridor
Sophia Irene walked briskly toward the classroom schedule board. She needed to verify her room assignment for "Introduction to Magic Theory." She hoped it was in the basement. Less sunlight.
Two senior instructors, older men with beards that smelled of pipe tobacco and tenure, stopped talking the moment she passed.
"…It's inappropriate." "She's only twenty-one. Practically a child herself." "He's twenty-two. Older than her." "That makes it worse. The power dynamic is inverted."
Sophia did not slow down. Her heels clicked a sharp, aggressive rhythm on the stone floor. She kept her face neutral, staring straight ahead. But her left eye twitched. Just ignore them. They are jealous because they have to grade papers for fifty students and I only have one.
She turned the corner—and nearly ran into the Secretary.
The woman smiled. It was a polite smile. The kind of smile a shark gives before it decides which limb to eat first.
"Teacher Sophia."
"Secretary." Sophia stopped. "Good morning."
"The Principal would like a word."
Sophia's stomach dropped. "…About what?"
The Secretary's smile widened just a fraction. It didn't reach her eyes. "Professional boundaries."
Courtyard – The Confrontation
Exousia found Arion before he reached the training grounds. She didn't ambush him this time. She simply planted herself directly in his path like a fiery roadblock.
"You."
"Good morning," Arion said, stepping around a puddle.
"You will explain."
"I did. It's a promise ring."
She narrowed her eyes, stepping sideways to block him again. "Then explain the promise properly. Who is it to? Why is it magical? Why does it eat mana?"
"I promised not to die," Arion repeated. "It's a very serious commitment."
"That is not a romantic promise!" she yelled, causing a passing gardener to drop his rake.
"I didn't say it was," Arion replied calmly. "You did."
She opened her mouth— Closed it. Opened it again. Her brain was short-circuiting. "Then why does it look like a vow-band?"
"Because it's round?" Arion suggested helpfully. "Most rings are."
She stared at him in disbelief. He was like a wall of wet cotton—impossible to punch, impossible to argue with. "You are insufferable."
"I've been told. Usually by people who shout a lot."
She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Are you hiding something?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
She searched his face. It was blank. Open. Completely devoid of guilt or deception. It was infuriating.
"…Why did you choose her?" she asked suddenly.
He didn't hesitate. "She was the only one not trying to sell herself."
That caught her off guard. "…What?"
"The others gave speeches," Arion said, looking past her toward the faculty building. "You gave a speech. Sebastian gave a speech. The teachers gave speeches about glory and potential. She just… yawned."
Exousia blinked. "…That's your reason? A yawn?"
"Yes. It showed honesty."
She stepped back slowly. She looked at him as if he were an alien creature wearing human skin. "…You're weird."
"Thank you."
He walked past her. This time, she didn't stop him.
Principal's Office
The office was large, imposing, and smelled of old paper and fear. Sophia stood rigidly in front of the massive mahogany desk.
The Principal folded his hands. He looked tired. "There are rumors."
"So I've heard," Sophia said dryly.
"About you."
"I assumed as much."
"And the student."
She inhaled slowly through her nose. "I am not engaged to my student, Principal. Nor am I having a tawdry affair in the woods."
The Principal rubbed his temples. "That is good to hear. The parents' board is… sensitive to such things."
The Secretary, standing by the window, tilted her head. "Then why does he wear a vow-band?"
"It is not mine," Sophia said sharply.
"Then whose is it?" the Secretary pressed. "Students are not permitted to wear enchanted jewelry of unknown origin. It is a security risk."
Sophia hesitated. She could lie. She could say it was a family heirloom. But the Principal had seen the Orb turn black. He knew Arion was an anomaly.
"…His master's," she said finally.
The room fell quiet. The clock on the wall ticked loudly.
"Which master?" the Principal asked carefully. "He has no record of prior schooling. He is a commoner."
She met his eyes. "That is the problem, isn't it?"