"Rose Academy," the principal began, his voice steady, rich with gravitas, "is not simply a place of learning. It is a forge. A crucible. One that burns away weakness, ignorance, and entitlement. Here, we do not pamper potential—we temper it."
A hush swept through the audience. Even the ones who had been whispering seconds ago fell silent, the weight of his words pressing down.
He raised a single finger.
"Some of you will pass. Others will fail. That is the reality of the world you seek to master. Here, status is not enough. Bloodlines are not enough. Even talent alone is not enough."
The sapphire-eyed man beside him shifted slightly, arms folded across his broad chest.
The red-haired woman offered a soft smile to the crowd, but said nothing. The two of them were like statues flanking a monarch—elegant and dangerous in their own right.
