It had been exactly a week since the conclusion of the Entrance Exams, and today officially marked the very first day of the academic term at R.S. Advanced Academy. Naturally, Amon had awoken early, completed his meticulous morning routine, and prepared himself to step onto the campus. However...
"Why on earth am I sitting inside my mother's limousine with Jacqueline and her children?" Amon thought, staring deadpan out the tinted glass of the window.
Despite his internal bewilderment, his handsome figure was perfectly framed by the prestigious R.S. Advanced Academy uniform. He wore a crisp, immaculate white long-sleeved button-up shirt beneath flowing, structured black academic robes. A neatly knotted white tie rested against his chest, while his formal black trousers were tailored to stop cleanly just above his ankles. Paired with sleek black socks and highly polished white dress shoes, his signature crimson blindfold completed the strikingly sharp, enigmatic aesthetic.
Amon sat directly across from Jacqueline and her twin daughters. His original, practical plan had been to take a standard armoured SUV, given that Jacqueline was legally accompanying him as his live-in personal attendant, and the kids had stubbornly insisted on tagging along to see the academy grounds.
However, Grand Duchess Emilia had forcefully intervened, demanding he take her personal, state-of-the-art Diamond-Plated Limousine to guarantee her son's absolute physical security. Amon had desperately wanted to protest the absurdly high-profile transport, but challenging his mother's overprotective decrees was a losing battle. And so, he found himself trapped in his current lavish predicament.
Jacqueline sat poised across from him, dressed in a sharp, military-style attendant uniform featuring a tailored, long grey trench coat and structured, knee-high, tall boots. The attire was meticulously detailed with silver epaulettes, polished buttons, and a cinched leather belt. She looked breathtakingly gorgeous yet undeniably deadly, her posture perfectly signifying her dual status as a personal guardian and a Champion of the Solathian Empire.
Meanwhile, her daughters sat neatly on either side of her, wearing matching, adorably stitched dresses that instantly invoked an intense, instinctual sense of protectiveness in anyone who looked at them.
Crucially, the family's exotic features had been completely altered. Through high-level illusion magic, their non-human traits were entirely masked, making them look like normal, albeit exceptionally striking, human beings. This was a strict necessity to prevent a massive scene on day one.
Yet, even in her human guise, Jacqueline remained so utterly captivating that Amon had to actively deploy his peak mental composure just to keep from feeling visibly flustered by her proximity.
"Master Amon, you seem troubled," Jacqueline noted politely, her smooth voice attempting to break the heavy silence of the cabin.
"Please—I beg of you, do not call me 'Master.' Just call me Amon," he replied, turning his blindfolded gaze toward her, his voice carrying a rare, genuinely pleading undertone.
Jacqueline opened her mouth to instinctively protest on the grounds of professional protocol, but she quickly softened upon seeing the sheer, exhausted look of desperation framing his features. She let out a small, defeated sigh. "Alright... Amon."
The young Prosecutor leaned back against the opulent leather seat, exhaling a quiet, profound sigh of relief the exact millisecond she finally agreed to drop the formal title. Beside her, Nicole and Nancy sat with their small legs dangling off the edge of the seat, watching the entire exchange with quiet, subtle curiosity.
"Thank you..." Amon muttered, his raspy voice sounding entirely genuine, as the massive limousine silently glided toward the academy gates.
The sleek, diamond-plated limousine instantly caught the attention of every single student in the vicinity the moment it glided through the towering iron gates of the campus. It drew a sea of turning heads as it smoothly manoeuvred through the crowd and came to a halt in one of the highly exclusive, designated spots of the premium parking lot.
After stepping out of the luxurious cabin, Amon adjusted his robes and headed directly toward the main academic building, where the vast majority of his core classes would be taking place. The architectural structure was staggering, resembling a massive, heavily fortified medieval castle modernised with subtle magical wards, with a continuous stream of students, occasionally a teacher, constantly entering and exiting through its grand, arched doors.
Before he could officially attend any lectures, however, he needed to stop by the Guidance Counsellor's office to complete some mandatory first-day administrative formalities. Jacqueline walked in flawless synchronisation right beside him, her tailored coat rustling slightly as her daughters held onto her hands, keeping pace with their small steps.
Along the corridors, a tangible wave of whispers followed them. Many older students and freshmen alike completely turned their heads to watch the group pass. It certainly wasn't every day they witnessed a blindfolded student accompanied by a stunning woman in a sharp military uniform and two incredibly cute little girls who closely mirrored her features.
The intense, curious stares made Nicole and Nancy visibly uneasy, their grips tightening on Jacqueline's hands. Sensing their discomfort, Amon subtly slowed his stride and leaned down slightly. He calmly assured them that the crowd was only staring because of his own incredibly eccentric fashion sense and because of how thoroughly adorable the two of them looked in their dresses. The gentle reassurance instantly made Nicole brighten up, while Nancy offered a shy, relieved nod.
After navigating the winding hallways for a few minutes, they finally reached the Guidance Counsellor's suite. But the moment the door swung open, Amon's mind ground to a halt as he came face-to-face with a starkly familiar figure—one that he was absolutely, profoundly unhappy to see.
"Why exactly are you here?" Amon asked. His voice remained perfectly calm and controlled, but the highly visible, rhythmic twitch in his left brow clearly indicated that he was severely annoyed to see the Headmistress occupying the room.
"Because I can be," Victoria replied playfully, offering him a thoroughly unbothered shrug as she pivoted in the counsellor's leather chair. She rested her chin in her hands, her eyes locked onto him with a dangerous, amused glint. "Are you truly that unhappy to encounter such a remarkably fine woman like me on your very first morning, Amon?~"
"I am," he replied bluntly, his tone cutting through her playful aura like a razor. "Encountering someone as fundamentally shameless as you on my very first morning at the academy is bound to make me profoundly unhappy, Headmistress."
"My, my, such fascinating hostility~" Victoria chuckled amusedly, leaning back as her eyes danced with delight. "My feelings for you grow only stronger whenever you keep resisting my charms in such a delightfully barbaric way~"
Behind him, Jacqueline and her daughters witnessed the bizarre exchange with wildly varying reactions. Jacqueline could only let out a slow, long-suffering sigh, completely familiar with her friend's antics. Nicole found the back-and-forth thoroughly amusing, her eyes sparkling, while Nancy tilted her head, quietly pondering the situation. The strange, high-tension banter between the top freshman and the absolute authority of the academy was interesting, to say the least.
"Headmistress, I stepped into this office exclusively to finalise my pending administrative paperwork," Amon said, keeping his voice strictly calm and controlled, though the sheer density of his annoyance had spiked exponentially. "I did not come here to be the latest victim of your predatory behaviour."
"Well, it isn't technically predatory if you are of legal age, you know?" Victoria countered suggestively, crossing her legs with a slow, deliberate movement, clearly savouring every ounce of Amon's irritated reaction. "But anyway, you can relax. I've already personally taken care of all your paperwork."
Her gaze then casually drifted past his shoulder, settling on Jacqueline and the twins.
"As for you three, you naturally cannot accompany Amon inside the lecture halls during active class hours. Rules are rules, after all," Victoria explained, her grin turning distinctly mischievous. "You are completely free to explore the secured academy grounds. Or, you can choose to have an exclusive tea party with me."
Before anyone could object, Victoria smoothly bypassed Amon. Space seemed to blur as she casually wrapped an arm around Jacqueline's shoulder, pulling the stiffening Solathian Champion close.
"And during that little tea party," Victoria purred loudly, leaning in with a playful, utterly scandalous wink, "I would absolutely love to hear every single, juicy detail about our dear Amon. Especially his size down there~"
Jacqueline's entire face turned a violent, explosive crimson. She stiffened into a statue, her jaw dropping as her mind completely short-circuited. Beside her, the two children simply stared up at their mother and the Headmistress in pure, unadulterated confusion, entirely lacking the vocabulary to understand the explicit nature of the joke.
Amon didn't say a word. He didn't argue, he didn't snap, and he didn't offer a witty retort. He simply turned on his heel and walked straight out of the office, slamming the door shut behind him. He was completely, utterly fed up with the Headmistress's unhinged antics, and he needed to be out of there immediately.
. . .
Amon stood before a pair of heavily polished oak doors bearing a brass plate that read: House Representatives Room. This was the exclusive sanctuary where the top twenty elite scorers of the Entrance Exam had been explicitly ordered to assemble—and Amon had successfully navigated his way here without a single official directive, entirely courtesy of his skill.
[Mad Mind]
Rank:SS
Skill Type:Special
Effects:
Suspended Thoughts:Empowers the user to process complex calculations and strategy at a cognitive speed mirroring a total time-stop.
Forbidden Records:Grants the user access to any information they desire, no matter how hidden or well-protected it is.
Madman's Understanding:Grants the user the immediate, comprehensive comprehension of any phenomenon or concept they actively experience.
Drawbacks:Attempting to pry into the strings of the future will instantly plunge the user into absolute, irreversible insanity. Overuse of this skill will systematically degrade the user's base sanity.
"Victoria was legally mandated to guide me here, but she was so thoroughly preoccupied with acting like a lecherous, unhinged woman that I was forced to abandon her and extract these coordinates on my own," Amon huffed internally. He swiped his hand to minimise the glowing system interface and reached directly for the ornate brass handle. "Well, whatever. At the very least, I can finally enjoy some brief, well-deserved peace."
The moment he pushed the heavy door open and crossed the threshold, the low hum of conversation within the room instantly evaporated.
The chamber was arranged like a miniature, high-end parliament, and every single one of the nineteen elite students already seated turned their heads in unison. They stared at him with sharp, piercing, and intensely calculating gazes—as if he were some highly exotic, dangerous creature that had just wandered into their territory.
Choosing to maintain an aura of absolute, untouchable indifference, Amon didn't utter a single word of greeting. His crimson blindfold remained perfectly level as his blindfolded gaze scanned the room's layout.
Without a hint of hesitation, he walked down the central aisle, smoothly approached the vacant seat directly adjacent to Seraphina Nightfallen, and pulled out the chair to take his place.
"It is truly good to see you again, Amon," Seraphina whispered softly, her innocent, luminous golden eyes crinkled with genuine warmth as she smiled happily up at him. "I am incredibly glad that we actually get to be classmates."
"A competent businessman's prediction is rarely wrong," Amon whispered back, turning his blindfolded head slightly toward her and flashing a confident, effortlessly charming smile. "I can discern someone's baseline competency from a single glance, Seraphina. And you are more than competent enough to occupy the seat by my side."
"Businessman?" Seraphina repeated, blinking her wide golden eyes as she looked at him, thoroughly puzzled by the completely unexpected terminology.
"Yep. I manage a few independent enterprises of my own," Amon explained with a small, amused chuckle, leaning back comfortably in his leather chair. "My primary operations focus heavily on international trading logistics and the stock market, though I maintain a few high-end restaurant chains as a profitable side hustle. I am well aware that the Crown family is absurdly, limitlessly loaded, but hey—a massive reserve of liquid capital earned entirely by your own hard work never hurts to have in your pocket."
"You... are amazing..." Seraphina murmured, her gaze sparkling with pure, unadulterated admiration. The words slipped past her lips entirely without thinking, born from her wonderfully earnest and sweet personality.
The exact millisecond she realised what she had casually blurted out, her cheeks instantly flared with a brilliant, adorable blush. She quickly looked down at her desk, nervously fidgeting with her fountain pen as she tried to hide her mounting embarrassment.
"You two seem to be having a lot of fun back here~" a vibrant, familiar voice sang out from behind them.
Amon turned his blindfolded head slightly toward the sound, discovering none other than Jeanne Nova resting her arms over the back of his chair. "Hi, hi, my competent little rival~" she playfully greeted him, a mischievous spark dancing in her eyes.
"Hello, Jeanne," Amon greeted her smoothly, his calm, unshakeable demeanour standing in stark, structural contrast to her high-energy playfulness. "It is good to see you here."
"The way you say that makes it sound like you didn't even expect me to make the cut," Jeanne shot back with a mock-pained pout, leaning her chin on her crossed forearms. "That is honestly kind of tragic, you know? I held the second-place spot."
"You know, I don't recall ever officially considering you a rival, and yet you treat the title so possessively," Amon countered seamlessly, a faint, razor-sharp smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He tilted his posture back slightly, matching her proximity with absolute confidence. "Tell me, Jeanne... are you truly that desperate to extract attention from a 'good boy' like me?"
Seraphina looked back and forth between their quick-witted banter and realised they were on the absolute precipice of igniting a full-blown verbal clash on their very first morning.
"Can you two please calm down?" she earnestly asked, looking at them both with pleading, golden eyes that practically radiated genuine worry.
"Fine, I will back down for now," Amon sighed softly, immediately conceding to Seraphina's heartfelt request.
Jeanne didn't say a word in response. Instead, she offered a small, mysterious smile and turned away, leaning her cheek against her palm as she stared out the grand window with a deeply pondering, unreadable expression.
With the brief sparks extinguished, the underlying atmosphere of the chamber steadily drifted back to a casual hum, the various elite students resuming their quiet conversations among their own circles. But the fragile peace was exceptionally short-lived. Amon had no intention of letting a certain historical debt remain unpaid.
Amon smoothly stood up from his leather seat and began walking directly across the room, his black robes swaying gracefully with every step. He bypassed several high-ranking entrants before coming to a dead stop directly in front of a familiar, green-haired, handsome young man who immediately looked up at him with a deeply irritated expression.
"What do you want?" Christopher asked, his voice laced with instant, hostile friction.
"An apology to Seraphina and to myself," Amon replied.
With terrifying, casual precision, Amon reached down and tightly seized Christopher by the collar of his pristine uniform. Despite the aggressive action, a calm, perfectly pleasant smile remained etched onto Amon's face. "Before the commencement of the exam's very first phase, you saw fit to loudly brand us both as 'hillbillies' simply because we were conversing with one another normally. I believe it is time to settle that account."
In an instant, the entire room's attention violently shifted toward the corner. The casual chatter shattered, replaced by a suffocating, high-stakes tension.
"So? What about—"
Before Christopher could even finish his arrogant retort, Amon didn't waste another millisecond.
Snap.
He sharply snapped his fingers. Space instantly fractured, and in the blink of an eye, both of them completely vanished from the classroom, teleporting directly through the solid glass pane and out into the open sky outside the window.
They suspended instantly in mid-air, floating high above the jagged castle courtyard below. Christopher's eyes widened in sheer, unadulterated panic, his aristocratic composure completely evaporating as he realised he was dangling over a lethal drop.
"If you do not offer a sincere apology right now, I will drop you from this exact height under an artificial 100x gravitational pressure that will instantly pulverise your body upon impact," Amon spoke with absolute, crystalline clarity, making it terrifyingly obvious that he wasn't playing a game. "Oh, and before you try anything clever... I have already locked down your magium circuits. You will not be able to deploy a single spell or skill to save your sorry ass."
With his free hand, Amon fluidly manifested his sleek wand from his sleeve. With a minimal, micro-flick of his wrist, he activated a localised compression field.
Instantly, an immense, invisible weight crashed down directly onto Christopher's chest. The sheer, crushing force made it entirely impossible for him to draw oxygen, his face rapidly turning a desperate shade of pale.
"If you wish to apologise, nod your head twice," Amon directed smoothly, his blindfolded face looming close. "And if you choose not to... well, you already possess a perfectly vivid imagination of what happens next."
"You... will be... severely reprimanded... for this...!" Christopher managed to choke out through gritted teeth, his strained voice dripping with absolute agony as the gravity squeezed his lungs.
"I won't," Amon smirked, his tone dripping with an icy, aristocratic certainty. "You actively chose to publicly defame and disrespect a member of the Crown Family—such as myself—entirely without provocation, while simultaneously insulting a personal friend of mine. A mere Marquess's son like you should be perfectly, intimately aware of the legal and lethal consequences of such treasonous actions, I presume?"
"I have always utterly despised the classic arrogant noble trope in stories," Amon thought bitterly, his smirk remaining perfectly fixed as the wind whipped his black academic robes. "The way these sub-boss characters only ever get a mild slap on the wrist chapters later, or suddenly undergo some cheap, unearned change of heart after an unbearable amount of unnecessary plot stretching... It's entirely exhausting."
"I have absolutely zero intention of waiting around for some redemptive 'change of heart' bullshit, nor am I going to patiently reprimand this little shit later. Not after he dared to disrespect Seraphina, who has explicitly become a friend of mine. I only waited this long and refrained from tearing his mana core apart on day one because I wanted every single student at this academy to look out the window today and realise a fundamental truth: I am petty enough to execute a man for shooting even a single disrespectful glance at my circle."
He stared down at Christopher, who was currently thrashing like a fish out of water under the crushing, silent weight of the atmospheric compression field.
In his past life as Park, he had been a thoroughly mature, grounded, and fiercely responsible individual. But he had always possessed one definitive, unyielding line: his people. He had never maintained a massive social circle, but the select few who earned his trust were cherished above his own survival. He was the type of man who would willingly burn a bridge down if it meant keeping his friends warm.
Even with such a protective trait driving his actions, Amon's analytical mind was perfectly self-aware. He knew he was technically overreacting by dangling a Marquess's heir over a lethal drop on the first morning of lectures.
But Amon simply did not care. The calculated mastermind persona and the fiercely loyal soul of Park aligned flawlessly in this exact moment. He wanted a definitive, bloody precedent established before the first bell even rang: cross his friends, and the hierarchy of the empire wouldn't save you from his wrath.
"Well, Christopher?" Amon murmured, his voice cutting clearly through the rushing wind as he applied a fraction more pressure with his wand. "Are you going to nod, or am I going to have to test your terminal velocity?"
. . .
Amon stepped smoothly back through the empty air where the window frame met the sky, his dark academic robes settling without a single wrinkle. In his right hand, he casually tossed Christopher forward.
The green-haired noble collapsed heavily onto the polished floorboards, completely dishevelled, gasping for oxygen, and shaking with a primal, unadulterated terror. Without even looking back at Amon, Christopher scrambled forward on his hands and knees, throwing himself directly at Seraphina's feet and weeping wildly as he begged for her forgiveness.
The top twenty entrants of the freshman class stood entirely frozen in their seats. The sheer, brutal spectacle they had just witnessed out the window—paired with the pathetic, broken display currently unfolding on the floor—sent a visible shockwave through the entire room.
It provided every single prodigy in the House Representatives Room with a very clear, concrete, and deeply unsettling first impression of the first ranker.
Amon didn't say a word. He simply walked back to his seat beside a wide-eyed, thoroughly flustered Seraphina, adjusted his pristine cuffs, and sat down. He leaned his head back, the crimson blindfold completely masking his expression, looking every bit like a relaxed person who had merely taken out the trash.
As the silence stretched across the room, a singular, collective thought etched itself into the minds of every elite student present:
"Whatever you do in this academy... do not, under any circumstances, provoke Amon Von Crown."