Classroom D — The Morning After the Duel
The classroom buzzed louder than usual.
Whispers, half-suppressed laughter, the sharp thrum of over-caffeinated mana pulses running through the walls. The usual suspects were arguing about breakfast, chairs were scraped loudly across tile, and the teacher hadn't even shown up yet.
Noven sat in the back corner, his posture slouched but balanced, head resting on one hand, his red eyes half-lidded as he stared at the morning sky beyond the window.
He wasn't thinking about the duel.
He wasn't thinking about Alyss.
He wasn't thinking at all.
Just… existing.
Exactly as planned.
Then the classroom door slid open—and the room fell into silence.
Not the kind of silence that usually comes with a teacher's arrival.
No.
This was held breath silence.
Someone gasped.
Someone else dropped their pen.
Even the loudmouth from the front row—the one who always argued with the teacher about test scores—went utterly still.
Because standing in the doorway was a figure that shouldn't be here.
White hair.
Pale and soft like winter light, cascading over her shoulders and down her back in immaculate, silken waves. Her eyelashes—long, fluffy, almost iridescent—framed a pair of midnight-black eyes so still they looked painted. She was tall, graceful, her uniform modified only slightly with silver trim and royal insignia stitched discreetly along her cuffs.
Her expression?
Unmoving.
Calm.
Royal.
No emotion flickered across her face as she scanned the room.
Elaris Nyx Avalith.
The Princess of House Avalith. Heiress to the Crescent Dominion. The strongest latent bloodline magic recorded in the past two centuries.
A student, technically.
But she never attended class.
Until now.
The teacher—Mr. Elgrave, a mid-tier combat analyst who once taught Class A—stood frozen halfway to the board. His jaw moved, but nothing came out at first. Then he managed a hoarse—
"P-Princess Avalith… I-I wasn't aware you would be… attending today."
The students stared.
Some out of fear.
Most out of awe.
"She's real…"
"I thought she was just an enrolled name."
"Why's she here?"
"Gods, she's… she's beautiful."
"I hope she sits near me."
"Did she get taller?"
"No way she's here for us, right? Maybe she's scouting? Evaluating?"
"She could be in Class S. What's she doing here?"
Elaris didn't respond.
She didn't acknowledge the murmurs or the reverence. She just took a single step forward, and the silence somehow grew heavier.
A distant wind tugged gently at her white strands as she walked in, like even nature moved around her with care.
When she reached the front, Mr. Elgrave gave a nervous cough. "You… you may sit wherever you like, Princess."
Everyone straightened.
A few students instinctively cleared desks beside them.
Others sat up straighter, tried to look impressive.
Some tried to catch her eye.
But she wasn't looking at any of them.
Her gaze—calm, unreadable, midnight black—swept slowly across the room.
And then she paused.
Because there, in the back row, sat the only one not looking at her.
Noven.
Head tilted, eyes on the sky.
Completely still.
Utterly uninterested.
Something in her expression shifted.
Almost imperceptibly.
But it shifted.
Then, without a word, she began walking.
Straight down the center aisle.
Students tensed. Followed her every step with wide eyes and hushed gasps.
"She's coming this way—"
"She's going to sit next to Calen, right? He's from a noble branch family—"
"No, wait… she's… what?"
The whispering cut off.
Everyone turned.
Frozen.
Elaris reached the back.
Walked past four empty seats.
And sat down.
Right next to Noven.
Not a desk away. Not a row apart.
Right beside him.
He didn't react.
Didn't flinch.
Didn't even turn.
And that silence—the one thicker than any magic—settled back over the class like a heavy fog.
No one spoke.
Not even the teacher.
Noven, eyes still fixed on the drifting clouds outside, blinked once. Slowly.
Elaris sat perfectly straight. Her posture regal, her hands folded neatly on her desk, her long lashes casting delicate shadows across her porcelain skin.
But her eyes weren't on the board.
They were on him.
And not with curiosity.
Not admiration.
Something deeper.
Darker.
Quieter.
The teacher finally cleared his throat and resumed class, stuttering slightly as he activated the arcane projector.
But no one paid attention.
Everyone was still watching her.
And she was still watching Noven.
—To be continued …