Celine slid her finger under the wax seal to open the letter. Suddenly, the paper in her hands rattled violently. A strange, magical vibration hummed through the air of the dining area.
"O-oh," she gasped, nearly dropping it.
Clark leaned back in his chair as the paper tore free of her grasp, floating upward in mid-air. The letter disintegrated into a cloud of fine red dust, which swirled and coalesced rapidly into a silhouette.
A tall man appeared, dressed in a sharp crimson suit tailored to perfection. He was draped in a black cape that fluttered despite the lack of wind, and a black top hat trimmed in scarlet perched jauntily on his head. His green eyes glittered with playful mischief beneath unruly crimson hair.
"Maurice Réel." The name left a bitter taste in his mouth as he watched the crimson-suited figure materialize from the red dust, one of the ten [SS]-Ranked Magicians in Sylvestria, the mentor of the webnovel's protagonist, and one of Verdalis Academy's most renowned and chaotic staff members.
"Bonjour!" Maurice's voice rang out with childlike cheer as he waved enthusiastically at an invisible audience. "Is this thing on?"
He leaned this way and that, moving his head as though searching for hidden cameras. Clark knew this routine well. Maurice always acted like a performer, turning every moment into a stage.
Celine offered a bemused smile. "This guy is quite entertaining. I was expecting something more... professional."
Clark let out a dry exhale. He couldn't help but agree. Verdalis was supposed to be the pinnacle of combat academies, the most prestigious in Everdane. And here was one of its star professors behaving like a circus act.
"Ah, looks like I'm on!" Maurice stuck out his tongue playfully before sweeping off his hat and bowing low like a magician finishing a trick.
"Greetings! I'm Maurice Réel, one of Sylvestria's few [SS]-Ranks!" he declared grandly. "And oh! One of Verdalis Academy's finest teachers, of course!"
Celine chuckled again, and Clark let out a heavy sigh.
"Anyways," Maurice tipped his hat back onto his head, then straightened his posture. "Dominic Eñeforte! Congratulations! We have reviewed your application, and I am pleased to inform you… welcome to Verdalis!"
Clark stopped breathing for a second. The words didn't land like a celebration, they landed like a gavel striking a sound block. He was officially part of the main stage now, with a front-row seat to every catastrophe, war, and villainous plot the webnovel had to offer.
Slowly, deliberately, Clark pressed his palms flat against the wooden table to ground himself. The trap had snapped shut.
"Also, let me remind you. Dominic." Maurice's tone shifted, the theatrical cheer evaporating into a heavy, deadpan seriousness. "Being a Manaless entering Verdalis gives you a disadvantage. So, be prepared."
Clark felt his stomach drop. The suffocating reality of those words pierced right through the room. He already knew exactly what that meant: all eyes would be on him, with pressure, prejudice, and challenges unlike any other.
Then Maurice's grin returned as quickly as it had faded. "Well, that's all from me! Farewell, and good luck!"
With that, his figure disintegrated into red dust, scattering until nothing remained.
"Oh, Dominic!" Celine pushed back from the table and pulled him into a crushing hug. "Congratulations!"
Clark let his arms hang uselessly at his sides during her embrace, his mind reeling. His plan for a quiet, uneventful survival was falling apart. Worst of all, the warmth, the pride, the affection she showed him were never meant for him. They were for the son she didn't know was gone.
"Oh, I can't wait, your father is going to be proud that you're following in his footsteps!" Celine squeezed him tighter, her pure joy blinding her to the way Clark went completely rigid in her arms.
A Stargate Raider father. That explained why Dominic would even consider Verdalis. Maybe it was to prove himself, maybe to earn his pride.
But he was not Dominic. He had no memory of applying to Verdalis, no desire to walk into a death academy that would chew up a Manaless and spit him out. Yet, looking at her hopeful face, the refusal wouldn't come. Telling her he wanted to withdraw felt less like self-preservation and more like cruelty. The suffocating tension in the room demanded an answer.
"Mom..." Clark gently pried himself out of her embrace, taking a small step back to put space between them. He couldn't say what he needed to say while she was still holding him. "I don't want to do this." He forced the words through a tight throat, unable to meet her gaze as the admission tasted like ash.
The warmth in her eyes faltered. Clark watched the bright hope drain from her gentle blue gaze in real time. The sheer guilt of hurting her twisted like a physical knife in his chest. Her arms, which had been wrapped around him a moment ago, fell slowly to her sides.
"…Why?" The word slipped from her lips like a broken breath.
"I can't do this," Clark said, rushing the words before his nerve failed him. "I'm Manaless. I'm going to get crushed. I want to withdraw my application."
Celine stared at him. Her lips parted as if to speak, but no sound came out. The kitchen, which had been warm with morning light and the smell of breakfast, suddenly felt too quiet.
Clark held his ground. He had to. If he didn't say it now, he never would.
"There has to be a way," he pressed, his voice tightening. "Can we, can we send a letter back? Or go to the academy and ask in person? I do not have to go through with this. There must be a process."
Celine's face crumpled.
"Dominic," she whispered. Her voice wasn't angry, it was terrified. "We… we can't."
Clark's stomach dropped. "What?"
"The withdrawal period ended yesterday." Her voice trembled, her hands twisting into the hem of her apron. "The fine for a late withdrawal is one hundred thousand Camillums."
Clark felt the room shrink. "One hundred…"
"We don't have that kind of money." Celine's eyes glistened, the tears she had been holding back finally breaking free. "We'd lose the house. We'd lose everything. There is no extension. There is no appeal. I already, I already called."
The number landed like a punch. The follow-up landed harder.
Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.
Clark looked down at his hands. His fingers had curled into tight fists without him noticing, self-loathing hitting him like a debuff. He felt like a scumbag. He was crushing an NPC's dream, and now he had also forced a grieving mother to admit she had already tried to save him. He had made her say it out loud.
He couldn't run. Even if he could endure the guilt of crushing her dream, he could not endure being the reason she lost her home.
"And besides..." Celine stepped closer and lowered herself to his level, gently cupping his face with her calloused, warm hands. Her blue eyes shone with gathered moisture. "Do you remember when you were seven? The Aurelior boys cornered you behind the bakery. You came home with your lip split, and you wouldn't let me see your hands. You'd been hitting the wall the whole way back. Over and over. Because you couldn't cast even a spark."
Her thumb brushed his cheek.
"You went to school the next morning anyway. You studied until your nose bled. You wanted to prove to the world that you did not need magic to be someone." Her voice cracked. "Don't tell me a letter is what finally broke you."
Clark stared at her. He wanted to push her away. He wanted to scream that Dominic was gone, that the person standing in front of her was a coward who just wanted to sleep.
But her hands were warm against his face. He hadn't been touched like this in years.
The raw, unfiltered affection in her eyes hit him harder than a physical blow. It was a Status Effect he had no resistance to. Back on Earth, no one had looked at him like this, and no one had cared whether he succeeded or failed. Here, he was someone's entire world.
He thought of the crude, crayon-drawn poster taped next to the desk in Dominic's bedroom. A child's impossible dream to become a Stargate Raider.
His mouth opened to refuse again. The breath caught somewhere in his throat and stayed there.
Her thumb brushed his cheek a second time.
Clark closed his eyes.
"Mom, I..." he whispered, forcing his lips to curl into a fragile, practiced grin. "I'm sorry. I won't withdraw."
Celine let out a long, shuddering exhale. The sheer terror that had gripped her features melted away, replaced by a profound wave of relief. She reached up, hastily wiping the heavy tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. A quiet, breathless laugh escaped her lips as the raw, unfiltered affection returned to her face.
"It's okay, Dominic." She smiled softly, the bright warmth returning to her face. "Just… don't underestimate yourself, okay?"
Clark's breath caught. The gentle, unwavering trust in her voice settled on his chest like a weight he hadn't earned. He knew he was walking straight into a massive death flag by agreeing to this, but the way she looked at him, like he mattered, made his legs refuse to move.
He forced himself to nod. "Yes, mom."
She hugged him again, and though his body tensed at first, slowly his arms rose. He embraced her back, awkward but genuine. It had been years since he had been the one holding on.
Ding! Dong!
The doorbell shattered the stillness.
"Who could it be?" she murmured, gently pulling away.
Clark frowned, unsettled. Could it be Dominic's father? He stiffened, his shoulders squaring as he braced himself for whoever was on the other side of the door.
"Well, it's rude to just sit here and let them wait." Celine moved to the front door and peeked through the peephole. Her face lit up. "Oh, it's Arthur!"
Clark's grip on the table loosened. "Arthur?"
Celine opened the door, and standing outside was a boy, a head taller than Clark. His golden-blonde hair fell in tousled, shaggy layers that caught the morning light, messy strands brushing against his forehead with the kind of effortless charm of someone who clearly had not styled it on purpose. Paired with his fair skin and striking emerald eyes, it gave him a princely look softened by boyish warmth. Handsome was the word that came to Clark's mind.
"Auntie Celine, bonjour!" Arthur practically bounced on his heels, a bright, unrestrained grin stretching across his face.
"Bonjour, Arthur!" Celine stepped aside to let him in, her face lighting up with genuine delight.
"Arthur." Clark gripped the fabric of his shirt, completely defenseless against the heavy, aching familiarity that suddenly seized his heart.
He had only woken up in Dominic's body a few minutes ago, yet a strange, comforting warmth swelled in his chest at the sight of the boy's bright smile.
Arthur tilted his head, peeking past her. His face lit up the moment he saw Clark.
"Doms!" he shouted, waving excitedly.
Clark froze for a second, completely out of his depth. He forced a polite smile and raised his hand in a mechanical, uncertain greeting.
Celine stepped aside, and Arthur bounded forward, practically radiating energy.
"I've been accepted!" Arthur exclaimed, eyes gleaming. "What about you?"
His enthusiasm reminded Clark of Yuji, his best and only real friend back on Earth. That same cheerful, magnetic presence. The kind of person who dragged you into things without waiting for permission, but whose warmth made it hard to refuse.
"I… also got accepted," Clark answered cautiously.
"Awesome!" Arthur grinned. "Let's spar!"
Clark stood perfectly still, frantically searching for the right thing to say. He had barely spoken ten words to Arthur, and already the boy wanted to fight. Was this their normal routine before he arrived in this world? By the casual tone, probably so.
[New Quest!]
[Spar with Arthur and deal damage to him!]
[Reward: 40 Stat Points]
The same red holographic screen appeared before his eyes.
Clark's brows furrowed. He noticed Arthur and Celine didn't seem to notice it, which confirmed that only he could see it.
"Doms, what do you say?" Arthur pressed.
Clark realized the silence was stretching too long. He cleared his throat. "Uhh… sure?"
"Great!" Arthur seized his hand without hesitation.
"Wai—"
But Arthur didn't let him finish. He was already dragging Clark toward the door.
"Have fun!" Celine called after them, her voice amused. "Oh, and don't try to blow up many trees again!"
Clark looked back at her, startled by her easy acceptance. She didn't even question it. Clearly, this was normal between the two boys.
Still, being dragged along like this stirred a strange ache in him. Yuji used to do this too, pulling him out of his shell, dragging him to play or explore when Clark only wanted to hide away. He hadn't realized how much he missed that until now.
Stepping outside, the view of Dominic's home unfolded.
It was a humble yet enchanting French-inspired countryside house. Its beige stucco walls glowed warmly under the sunlight, while curved windows framed with dark shutters let in streams of golden light. The black hipped roof shimmered faintly with diamond-shaped gems, solar-like panels that caught the sun as if trapping starlight.
"Aether Panels…" Clark forced himself to memorize every detail. This was his home now.
They walked into the village, passing a weathered wooden signpost planted at the edge of the road. "Welcome to Bellelavon", it read in elegant, curling script.
"Bellelavon," Clark muttered, committing the name to memory.
The village itself was a portrait of peaceful fantasy life. People went about their daily routines, but the mundane was painted with the supernatural. Above, a few villagers flew gracefully on brooms, weaving past sleek Aether-powered cars that hovered just inches above the cobblestones with a low, quiet hum.
Others used simple spells with casual ease—a shopkeeper conjuring streams of water to nourish flower boxes, a delivery boy levitating heavy crates through the air with a flick of his wrist.
Magic was everywhere here, woven seamlessly into the fabric of everyday life rather than reserved for combat.
Clark squared his shoulders, bracing himself for the inevitable disdain. He was Manaless, after all. He fully expected the world to reject him, waiting for the cold stares or hushed whispers usually reserved for nobodies.
Instead, a villager waved as they passed.
"Bonjour, Arthur!" he called out. "Oh, and Dominic too!"
Arthur returned it happily. "Bonjour, Monsieur!"
Clark's steps faltered, though he still kept his shoulders squared defensively. There were no sneers and glares. The villager had greeted him with respect, even warmth.
"B-Bonjour," he replied, keeping his hands safely tucked in his pockets.
It unsettled him. Back in his old world, he was invisible at best, rejected at worst. Here, even as a Manaless, he was acknowledged.
"Arthur and Dominic!"
A girl with long blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and fair skin suddenly jogged up to them.
"Ah, Hailey! Bonjour!" Arthur beamed, throwing his hand up in a vigorous wave that perfectly matched his boundless energy.
Clark committed the name to memory, carefully taking in her lively expression.
"Bonjour, Hailey," he replied smoothly, offering a polite nod to maintain his careful disguise.
Hailey stopped right in front of them. "Guys, have you seen the latest news!?"
Arthur and Clark both raised a brow.
"What news?" Arthur asked.
"This news!" She took out a sleek device that looked like a smartphone. A small, diamond-shaped gem rested on the top edge. "Here!"
She shoved the device in front of their faces. Arthur and Clark stared at the completely black screen.
"Uhh, Hailey," Arthur started. "Your Commlink is not on."
"Ah! Oops!" Hailey pulled the Commlink back, pressed a button on the side, and shoved it in front of them again. "Here!"
The screen flared to life. Displayed across it was a flashy entertainment-news headline: "Tragedy in Aurelior! Cim Cardashian Loses Million Dollar Diamond Earrings in the River!"
Clark read the bold text, his face a mask of deadpan disbelief. He kept his expression perfectly neutral, but internally, his mind was reeling. It seemed even in this world, there was a Kim Kardashian variant.
Arthur leaned in closer to read the screen, letting out an exhausted sigh. "Wow. It has only been a week since she made headlines, and here is another one."
"I know, right? Poor her!" Hailey said, her eyes wide with sympathy.
Arthur rolled his eyes. "Yeah, poor billionaire. It is incredibly sad. She probably cannot afford another pair."
"I can feel your sarcasm, and I cannot blame you. Heck, even her sister replied with 'Cim, people are dying' in a deadpan way," Hailey chuckled, pulling her Commlink back and scrolling rapidly with her thumb. "Oh! William Wendy has something to say about this!"
Clark tilted his head, instantly filing the strangely familiar name away for future reference.
"William Wendy?" he prompted, keeping his expression perfectly blank.
"William Wendy! You know, that famous celebrity broadcaster? Anyways, here."
She shoved the Commlink back at them.
They both read the bold text on the screen. It was a post from an official account: "William Wendy asks: Was Cim's little river accident staged for the Aether-cameras? How you doin', Aurelior? Because I think she just wanted the screen time. She is wearing waterproof mascara, for Camille's sake!"
Clark let out a quiet huff of disbelief. It appeared Wendy Williams also had a counterpart here in Sylvestria. The multiversal parallel was uncanny, but he wisely kept his mouth shut to avoid having to explain Earth's pop culture to them.
Arthur let out an exhausted sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You are really into this celebrity gossip, huh?"
"Of course I am! You talk like you do not know me! Hmph!" She crossed her arms, turning away with an exaggerated pout before immediately snapping her bright blue eyes back to Clark. "What about you, Dominic? What do you think?"
Clark blinked, entirely caught off guard by the sudden attention. "Uhhmmm."
He did not care about celebrity gossip at all. Even back on Earth, he ignored news about billionaires losing jewelry because their extravagant lives felt completely disconnected from his own. But with her expectant gaze locked onto him, waiting for an answer, he had no choice but to reply.
"I think it is... avoidable if she did not decide to swim with those on her ears," Clark answered carefully.
Hailey stared at him. Her pout dropped into a flat, unimpressed line. Clearly, practical logic was the wrong response to give someone looking to vent about drama.
He did not feel surprised by her reaction. His experiences in his previous life had taught him to expect this exact kind of response. Some people preferred the drama of a situation over a logical solution.
"Hailey! Help me gather these boxes!"
They turned toward the sound. A middle-aged man carrying a stack of heavy wooden crates was calling out to her from a nearby shopfront.
"Ah, coming, Dad!" Hailey dropped her deadpan reaction in an instant, her expression snapping seamlessly back into a bright, cheerful smile. "I will go help my dad. See you around!"
She spun on her heel and jogged toward the nearby shopfront, her long blonde hair swaying behind her with every step.
"See ya," Arthur called out, waving his hand.
Clark nodded and offered a small wave. Even though he had just met her, he could easily categorize Hailey. She was the textbook gossip NPC, equipped with all the latest pop culture dialogue prompts.
"Anyways," Arthur said, turning back to Clark. "Let's go, Doms."
Clark blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. "Ah, right."
Arthur started walking, and Clark followed a step behind him.
They kept walking down the cobbled path. Soon, Clark spotted a weathered wooden sign that read "Bellelavon Station" with a painted arrow pointing to the right. He carefully took note of the direction.
"Arthur! Dominic!" an older woman's voice rang out.
Arthur stopped immediately, and Clark stopped as well, curious.
"Madame Sarah, bonjour!" Arthur said brightly.
The woman wore an apron over her dress, flour dusting her hands. Behind her, the warm glow of an oven flickered from what was clearly a bakery.
"I have something for you two. Wait here." She stepped inside the bakery.
Clark watched her disappear into the warm glow of the bakery. He was not expecting to be offered free items.
Madame Sarah soon returned with two fresh baguettes, still steaming.
"Here, these are for you!" she gave them the baguettes.
"Merci!" Arthur said quickly, taking his.
Clark hesitated before bowing slightly and accepting his with both hands. "Merci…"
The bread was still warm. He broke off a piece and tasted it, and his eyes widened. It was delicious.
"You boys are entering Verdalis Academy in three days, right?" Sarah asked.
Clark perked up at the new information. If it's three days until Verdalis, then today must be April 4, 2121. This was perfect. He had time to search for the Golden Apple, a fruit that could boost his strength, and maybe even start hunting the forgotten artifacts of the Manaficial ritual.
Arthur tore off a massive chunk of his baguette and stuffed it into his mouth. His cheeks puffed out as he chewed enthusiastically, savoring the warm bread. He swallowed hard before speaking.
"Yeah, how did you know, Madame Sarah?" Arthur asked, wiping a stray crumb from his chin.
"How could I not?" She chuckled. "You and Dominic are the only children in this village with that dream. And besides, it's right there on the Aethernet."
Arthur flushed, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "Oh. Right, hehe."
Her words struck Clark. It seemed he and Dominic were the only children in this town daring to dream of becoming a Stargate Raider.
Sarah turned her gaze toward Clark, her eyes warm. "And Dominic, congratulations on entering Verdalis despite being Manaless. You can do it!"
Clark flinched, his shoulders tensing for a split second before he looked away. He struggled to process the unearned compliment. Genuine praise was something he had rarely known in his old life. After his mother's death, the world had gone cold. Foster families took him in only to send him back, each finding a different way to tell him he wasn't enough, that he was too quiet, too withdrawn, not the kind of boy who fit. People ignored or ridiculed him, and the only warmth he had was Yuji's friendship.
The combination of Madame Sarah's praise, Arthur's bright grin, and Celine's lingering care felt heavier than it should have. A version of him, the rational one, whispered that he should keep his distance. Treat them like NPCs. Don't get attached to a life that wasn't his.
But the bread was warm in his hands, and he was so, so tired of being cold.
Clark held the baguette close to his chest.
"M-Merci," he murmured, taking a bite.