"Eyes... eyes... eyes...!"
Cipher gritted his teeth as he walked down the long, marbled hallway of Arcadia Academy. The echo of his footsteps bounced off the high arched ceiling, mixing with the murmur of students standing in groups. Every head turned. Every whisper, he was certain, was about him.
They weren't staring because he was impressive or talented. No, their gazes were laced with judgment—he was from a low-ranking family, and in this world, that meant everything.
"Stop looking at me…" he muttered under his breath, his voice trembling just enough that only he could hear it.
He dared to lift his eyes and made accidental eye contact with a tall male student leaning against the wall. The boy's face immediately twisted into one of disgust, his nose crinkling as if Cipher carried some terrible stench.
'I…' Cipher felt his chest tighten. Tears threatened to rise. As a boy who had already lost both parents, who had grown up facing scorn and whispers behind closed doors, this was just another wound on a body already littered with bruises no one could see.
But he wouldn't cry, not here. Not now.
After what felt like an eternity of scrutiny, he finally arrived at his assigned classroom. Room 3-A. With a deep breath, he pushed open the heavy oak door.
"Eyes!" the thought screamed in his mind again.
As expected, the moment he stepped inside, all conversation ceased. Dozens of students turned to look at him, their expressions unreadable—some curious, others disinterested, a few outright hostile.
Cipher hesitated for a heartbeat, then awkwardly stepped in, his bag clutched tightly in one hand. He scanned the large room, looking for his designated seat.
The classroom was structured like a small theater. Rows of seats rose in steps, each level higher than the last, giving a clear view of the front stage where the professor would soon stand. His seat was located at the very top—far left. He inwardly sighed. Not exactly the most discreet position.
Each seat was unusually wide, clearly made to accommodate three students. He noticed only one student sitting on the bench, positioned at the far-left end. As Cipher made his way up the steps, the students continued to watch him, their eyes unblinking. He kept his head down.
With careful steps, he reached the top and took his place at the right end of the shared seat, leaving one space between them. The boy already sitting there didn't even look in his direction. Cipher glanced over cautiously. The student had short brown hair and wore the same white uniform, but the family crest was on the front of his jacket instead of the back—a rare and bold statement.
"H-hi… I'm Cipher," he said, hoping to start a conversation.
The boy didn't respond. Not even a glance.
Cipher's shoulders sank. Silence stretched between them, thick and awkward. Meanwhile, the rest of the classroom slowly resumed its chatter, though the energy felt different now—less joyful, more curious, like something had shifted.
Just as Cipher was beginning to zone out, the door creaked open again. He sat up straighter.
'The teacher…?'
But no one entered. Then, suddenly—thump—a briefcase landed neatly between Cipher and the empty space beside him.
Cipher turned his head quickly. A white-haired boy now sat there as if he had always been. Cipher blinked.
'What the hell? When did he get here?' He looked toward the door again. It was closed.
"…!" Cipher stared in disbelief. 'He's super fast!'
Gasps and whispers erupted around the room.
"Is that Caprio Dunn?"
"It's him! The seventh heir of the Dunn family!"
"He's so cool!"
The attention shifted immediately. Cipher almost sighed in relief. The intense spotlight had moved on from him to the new arrival.
Caprio was striking. He had snow-white hair, deep black eyes that shimmered like polished obsidian, and a calm aura that drew everyone in. He was tall—just slightly taller than Cipher, who stood at 174 cm—but the way he carried himself made him seem much more imposing.
Then Caprio turned and looked at Cipher.
Cipher tensed. He expected the same look of disdain he'd grown used to, followed by either mockery or thinly veiled pity.
Instead, Caprio smiled politely.
"Hey, I'm Caprio Dunn. I'll be your seatmate for the rest of the school year. What's your name?"
Cipher blinked, unsure how to react. His mouth opened, but no sound came. No one had ever introduced themselves to him before, not like this—not without scorn in their voice.
"Uh-uhm…"
Caprio tilted his head, waiting patiently.
"You don't have a family crest on the back of your uniform," he said, noting the absence with mild curiosity. Cipher's uniform was pure white, clean but plain. In contrast, Caprio's crest gleamed like silver embroidery under light.
"I... I'm Cipher Nunica," Cipher finally managed to say, barely above a whisper.
"Nunica?" Caprio repeated, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. "No offense, but I don't think I've ever heard of that family before."
"Well… I'm from a lower-ranking family," Cipher admitted, lowering his eyes. His throat tightened, bracing for rejection.
"Lower ranking family…?" Caprio echoed, then grinned widely. "That's cool!"
"…Huh?" Cipher looked up, wondering if he'd heard wrong.
"You're the first of your kind in over 300 years!" Caprio said, clearly impressed.
"Your kind?" a cold voice interrupted.
It came from the quiet boy sitting on Cipher's left. He finally turned, his brown eyes sharp. "What the hell do you mean 'your kind'?" he said, visibly annoyed.
Caprio raised both hands. "Wait! I didn't mean it like that!"
"Hmph." The brown-haired boy turned away, clearly uninterested in further conversation.
Caprio leaned slightly forward, trying to bridge the distance. "Uh… Who might you be?"
The boy glanced sideways, unimpressed. "My name is Ohara. Ohara Ciju."
'Ciju…?' Cipher thought. 'That's the same name as the low-ranking family that had arose 300 years ago…'
"Whoa?! Ciju?" Caprio exclaimed with delight. "I'm seated with two interesting guys!"
Caprio laughed heartily, a sound that filled the room with surprising warmth. Cipher stayed quiet, unsure how to react, while Ohara stared at the opposite wall, clearly indifferent.
The door opened once more, and this time an adult walked in. A man with silver glasses, shoulder-length black hair tied in a loose ponytail, and an enthusiastic smile stepped inside, balancing two books under one arm and a piece of chalk in the other.
The moment he entered, the students quickly adjusted their posture. The classroom fell silent again.
"Hello!" the man said cheerfully, striding to the front.
He turned to the blackboard and wrote in confident strokes: Sir Griffin.
"My name is Yani Griffin," he announced, turning back to the class. "I'll be your Magic Threading Professor."
"Griffin?!"
"That guy's going to be our teacher?"
"We're so lucky!"
A new flood of compliments swept across the room. Griffin chuckled, visibly flattered. "Ohh, the compliments!" he said to himself with an exaggerated blush.
"Anyway!" he clapped his hands. "Since all of you have graduated from Pre-Magic School, I trust you already know the basics of Magic Threading, right?"
"Yeah!" someone shouted eagerly from the front.
"But that Nunica kid hasn't," a voice called from the middle rows, drawing a few snickers.
"Oh yeah, guess he'll be falling behind," another added.
"Nunica?" the professor echoed, scanning the room. "Raise your hand, Nunica."
Cipher hesitantly raised his hand, keeping his head low.
"Oh, you?" Professor Griffin asked, sounding more intrigued than anything else. "Are you from… a lower-ranking family?"
"Y-yes, sir," Cipher replied, heart sinking.
He expected more laughter, or worse—dismissal.
But instead, Griffin smiled warmly.
"Don't worry," he said with genuine kindness. "I'll be going over the basics again—for everyone. Magic Threading is too important to skip ahead."
For the first time that day, Cipher felt something strange... relief.
Maybe, just maybe, this year wouldn't be like all the others.