After a few moments of awkward silence, Samael's body betrayed him once again — as it always did.
His stomach growled loudly in the middle of Professor Stern's office.
"Oh?" Layla said, amusement clear in her voice. "So the walking problem is hungry?"
Samael felt his face burn.
"I… I haven't eaten in days. That's all," he replied quickly.
Layla raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced.
Still, she let it slide.
"Come on. Let's go to the cafeteria. I skipped breakfast too, and I'm starving," she said, already standing up, leaving no room for argument.
Samael followed without protest. At that point, he genuinely felt like he might pass out from hunger.
A few minutes later, they arrived at the cafeteria. It was mostly empty — breakfast hours were nearly over.
Even so, the handful of students still inside turned to look at them as they entered. At that moment, Samael found the floor suddenly fascinating.
They picked up their food and sat down, eating in silence. Layla seemed perfectly at ease with it.
Samael was not.
He was eating a bit too fast when Layla spoke again.
"You've changed," she said calmly.
"Huh?" Samael blinked, genuinely confused. "Do we know each other?"
"No," Layla replied. "We don't."
He felt a wave of relief. Still, the comment made no sense.
"Then why—"
"But I know you," she added after a brief pause, clearly enjoying his confusion.
Samael frowned.
"I saw you at a party a few years ago," Layla continued, as if pulling the memory from somewhere distant. "You were bullying a girl."
He took a slow breath. He didn't remember that specific moment — but it fit disturbingly well with the person he used to be.
"I…" He tried to speak, but the words refused to come.
"Oh, and by the way," Layla added casually, a faint smile on her lips, "that girl was my sister."
"I… I don't know what to say," Samael admitted quietly.
An apology would feel hollow. No excuse could make it right.
Layla studied him for a few seconds.
"When I saw you again and learned you'd be my student, I thought about being harsh," she said honestly. "For the sake of the past."
Her words struck like blades, each one cutting into a different piece of the guilt he carried.
"But I don't think that way anymore," she continued. "That would've been childish."
She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on the table. Her gaze was steady — mature.
"You've changed. That arrogant boy stayed in the past. You were just children."
Something tight shifted in Samael's chest.
It wasn't relief.It wasn't forgiveness.
It was recognition.
"And besides," Layla added softly, "life has already collected its debt from you."
"With interest."
Samael stayed silent for the rest of the meal.
Her words echoed in his mind, heavy and impossible to answer.
When it was time for class, Layla stood up.
"You should go. Even if it's not my class, don't skip it," she said as she walked away. "Your dorm situation should be resolved by tonight."
Samael stood as well.
As she turned to leave, he spoke, his voice steady despite the exhaustion weighing on him.
"Thank you, Professor Stern… and I'm sorry."
Layla didn't reply.
She simply waved a hand without turning back.
Later — Samael's First Class
A few minutes later, Samael entered his first class.
The exclusion was immediate.
Some students recognized him from his past. Others whispered quietly.The rumor of him being a "pervert" hadn't been cleared up yet — and in this place, that was more than enough.
Strangely, none of it held his attention.
The stares.The murmurs.The isolation.
All of it was drowned out by Layla's words, still echoing in his mind.
Life has already collected its debt from you.
With interest.
He remained lost in thought until the classroom door opened.
The professor entered with firm, confident steps.
"I'm Awakened Rock," he announced, his voice deep. "Today, I'll be evaluating your physical abilities."
The name stirred something in Samael.
A faint sense of nostalgia.
He was almost certain Awakened Rock appeared somewhere in the novel — maybe early on.
The memory was too vague to matter.
In the end, it didn't.
Rock placed a large metallic device in the center of the room.
Samael's heart skipped a beat.
He recognized that machine.
It had appeared in the novel.
A memorable scene — Sunny testing his power for the first time.
While Rock explained how the device worked, Samael barely listened.
He already knew.
The machine measured an Awakened's raw physical strength and converted it into a number.
Nephis: somewhere between sixteen and eighteen.Sunny: nine.Caster… twenty-two.
A faint pressure settled in Samael's chest.
For the first time since arriving in this world, he felt genuine curiosity.
About himself.
As a child, he had been strong.
The strongest among his small group of friends.
But that was years ago.
Since then, he hadn't trained.Hadn't fought.Hadn't tested himself.
And yet…
His body seemed to remember.
The students lined up one by one to take the test.
Wanting to remain unnoticed, Samael slipped into the middle of the line — not first, not last. The perfect place to disappear.
Even though he tried to stay calm, reminding himself he'd already seen a scene like this before, his body betrayed him again.
His heart was racing.
He was nervous.Anxious.
What if I'm weak?Or worse… what if I'm too strong?
He took a deep breath.
Don't set expectations.They never end well.
As the testing continued, the reactions followed a familiar pattern.
Bright smiles from those who scored higher than expected.Deflated expressions from those who fell below average.And the quiet confidence of the Legacies — those who already knew their results.
The numbers began forming clearly in Samael's mind.
Ordinary students averaged between eight and twelve.Legacies ranged from twelve to sixteen.
So far, the highest score was seventeen — achieved by a student from a moderately prestigious family, now basking in the attention.
Samael noticed something else.
None of the Legacies had used their Aspect during the test.
That wasn't an oversight.
It was an unspoken rule.
As the line moved forward, his turn drew closer.
And with it, his anxiety tightened like a coil.
He slowly clenched his fists.