Lucien stood at the door of his small, stone-built home, his black boots freshly shined, his collar tugged into place by his mother's fussy fingers.
"My little demon lord got into the academy," Beatrice beamed, her crimson eyes shining with pride as she planted loud, smoochy kisses on both his cheeks. "Mama's so proud!"
Lucien groaned. "Mom, stop it…"
Ronald appeared behind them, leaning against the doorframe with a faint smile. "Are we all ready?"
Beatrice nodded eagerly. "Yes. Let's go."
The family stepped out, the crisp morning wind brushing against Lucien's pale face as the tower spires of Aethercrest Academy shimmered in the far distance.
---
Aethercrest Academy – Principal's Office
The room was vast and cold, with arched windows allowing rays of dark-orange light to spill in. Ancient banners of the Nine Bloodlines hung along the high walls. At the far end, behind a wide obsidian desk, sat a woman with sleek black hair that shimmered faintly with an unnatural glow. Her crimson eyes gleamed like rubies under a moonless sky.
"What do you mean, you are qualified?" Her voice rang out like a blade unsheathing. "Lucien Crowe?"
Lucien stood frozen between his parents. His heart pounded as if it was trying to escape his chest.
Beatrice blinked. "W-What?"
Ronald stepped forward, holding out a letter with the academy's seal. "We received this... it says he's been accepted."
The woman took the letter, skimmed it briefly, then let it drop onto the desk like trash. "That letter was a mistake."
Lucien's breath hitched. What?
His fingers curled slowly. This is a dream. It has to be. Maybe Dad and I had the same weird dream, and we're still in bed.
"I should've stayed home... just hammered blades and lived quietly," Lucien muttered to himself, barely above a whisper.
Beatrice's voice cracked. "What do you mean a mistake? You sent us this!"
The principal's tone was calm—but dangerous. "That letter was supposed to be a placeholder. The real one was never delivered. We sent out the standard invite. Nothing more."
"So… there's another letter?" Lucien asked.
The principal stood. Her aura flared just slightly, a wave of pressure rolling across the room. "Yes. One meant for the manaless demon boy. I was quite curious… curious how someone born with no mana even dares to dream of standing here."
Lucien's head dropped.
"You aren't even a mudblood," she spat. "You are beneath that. A stain. Don't insult us."
Lucien clenched his fists. "S-sorry…"
Beatrice stepped forward. Her voice trembled, but her eyes burned. "He may be manaless, not even worthy of a mudblood rank, but he's my son. And I promise you—he's more deserving than any of those spoiled brats running around this place with glowing eyes and bloody fangs!"
Tears welled in her eyes. "So please… don't crush his dream."
Ronald touched her shoulder. "Come on, Bea. Let's go. This was a mistake."
Lucien pushed away from the desk, dragging his palm across the obsidian surface. A sharp edge nicked his hand. "Ah—!"
Beatrice gasped. "You're bleeding!"
She tore a piece of her sleeve and wrapped his finger. But a few drops of blood had already fallen... onto the black marble floor.
The scent traveled across the room like perfume on a breeze. The principal froze.
Her pupils dilated.
The veins under her eyes darkened, her breathing slowed, her lips parted slightly as if trying to inhale more.
I've never… smelled this before… she thought, her thighs subtly pressing together. It's… intoxicating.
Ronald helped Lucien up. "Let's treat this at home."
"Wait."
They turned.
The principal's voice had shifted—calm again, but now… different.
"Sit down. Let's talk this through."
Ronald narrowed his eyes. "There's nothing to talk about."
"There is," she said, her red eyes locked onto Lucien. "If you want to protect your son… you'll listen."
Beatrice and Ronald exchanged glances. The seriousness in her tone scared them.
The principal spoke again. "Lucien is manaless. In the Nine-Bloodline Kingdom of Velmoria, that brands him a curse. A mistake."
She walked slowly around the desk. "Demons, vampires, witches… they won't allow a flaw like that to live. And when they find out what he is, or rather what he isn't… they won't stop at him. They'll come for you too."
Beatrice and Ronald sat, stunned.
The principal continued. "He took the mana test. The orb glowed."
Ronald blinked. "It did?"
"Yes. But not blue. Crimson. A glow we couldn't comprehend. So, we marked it a fail."
"But… what does that mean?" Lucien asked.
The principal grinned slightly. "It means you're an enigma. And that's dangerous. So… we'll enroll you. Quietly. You'll enter as a transfer student. No questions asked."
Beatrice blinked. "Is that… allowed?"
"We've done it before," she said smoothly. Then she snapped her fingers.
A small, stooped goblin walked in, placed a wrapped package on the desk, and scurried away.
Lucien opened it.
"A white uniform?" he asked.
"Yes. Crimson is for noble-bloods. Ash-grey for mudbloods. But you—Lucien—you are something else."
Beatrice frowned. "But won't that cause discrimination?"
"Of course," the principal said. "This academy runs on hierarchy. High-bloods dominate mudbloods. Everyone knows their place. But you, Lucien…"
Her eyes darkened. "You're below the food chain."
Lucien frowned. "You say that like they're going to eat me."
The principal's smirk was chilling. "You're catching on."
She turned to Beatrice and Ronald. "Go home. Your son begins… now."
Lucien stepped forward. "I'm ready. I've wanted this my whole life. Please… let me do this."
Beatrice's lips quivered. Ronald gave her a nod.
"Fine," she whispered. "But be careful."
They left the room, eyes damp.
The principal clapped. "There's a restroom behind that door. Go change. Unless…" She leaned forward, voice silky. "You want to undress in front of me?"
Lucien gave a tight, awkward smile. "I'll use the restroom."
He disappeared behind the door.
Moments later, he emerged in gleaming white.
It shimmered. A subtle crimson thread wove across the chest in the shape of the academy's sigil.
The principal walked toward him. "Let's start over," she said. "I'm Nyssara Vaelthorn, principal of Aethercrest Academy."
Lucien smiled. "Nice to meet you, Miss—"
She kissed him.
Soft.
Unexpected.
Lucien jolted back. "Wha—?!"
Nyssara smiled. "So that was your first kiss? How precious. You can call me Nyssara from now on."
Lucien frowned. "That's not going to happen. You're the principal."
She vanished. Reappeared inches from his face. "You can call me whatever you want… Lucien."
Lucien's heart raced.
In another blink, she was back in her chair, legs crossed, expression smug.
"If you need anything," she said with a wink, "come to me. I'm always… available."
Lucien swallowed. "Y-Yes, Nyssara."
"Much better," she purred.
He turned to leave.
"One more thing," she said coldly. "Stay away from the high-bloods.
Lucien paused. "Are you… saying I'm in danger?"
She licked her lips slowly. "Only if I'm not around."
Lucien left the room quickly.
Nyssara stared at the door long after he'd gone. She pulled out a vial of blood. Drank. Her cheeks flushed, her pupils dilated, her breathing grew ragged.
"Lucien… What are you?"
She bit her hand, blood dripping from her fangs.
"I can't wait to have you... all to myself."
---
Classroom
The teacher paused her lesson as a shadow appeared in the doorway.
"He's here," she whispered with a smile.
Lucien entered, dressed in white. The entire class went silent.
Murmurs rippled through the room. "A white uniform? What bloodline is that?"
He stood before them. "Good day. I'm Lucien Crowe. I'll be studying with you."
The teacher nodded. "Take a seat in the back."
Lucien walked slowly, noticing how the room was split.
Crimson on the left—highbloods.
Ash-grey on the right—mudbloods.
He moved toward the back row… then—
Trip.
He hit the floor. Laughter followed.
"Oops," a boy smirked. "Didn't see you there."
Lucien smiled. "Mistakes happen."
He took his seat silently.
The teacher cleared her throat. "Let's begin."
Lucien sighed.
"I just need a peaceful academy life to survive… how hard can that be?"
---
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