The fresh morning dew lent the air a clean, crisp scent, a brief illusion of purity before the day's chaos began. Golden rays of sunlight slanted through the window, painting warm stripes across the otherwise sterile room.
Merlio moved with quiet efficiency as he dressed. His deep blue blazer hung over one shoulder, the grey inner shirt already tucked in perfectly. He glanced at his watch: 6:40 AM. His eyes swept the small space—barely furnished, with only a simple table and a single chair. The kitchen section was minimalist to the point of austerity: just the necessary utensils, a few pots, basic cookware. The living area held a portable student bed, and the air conditioner hummed its constant, monotonous drone.
Quite a blank space, he thought, adjusting his collar. I'll have to add a few items to make it feel like home.
He slung his handbag across his shoulder and stepped out.
The corridor stretched long and impersonal, lined with identical doors. Merlio punched his password into the keypad beside his door, waited for the confirming beep, and made his way toward the elevator. The student housing complex consisted of three towering seven-story buildings, each housing different facilities. Some wings were tailored to specific positions within the school's rigid hierarchy—a constant reminder that even rest was stratified.
Merlio pressed the button for the ground floor and waited. As the elevator doors began their slow slide closed, a hand shot through the gap. The sensors triggered, and the doors jerked back open with a soft chime.
Merlio's eyebrows rose slightly as a girl stepped into view.
She was striking in an austere way. Shoulder-length jet-black hair, ironed straight with military precision. Her blazer was immaculate, the brilliant white of her inner shirt almost glowing against her very pale skin. She carried a cold gaze that swept over Merlio briefly—a sharp contrast to his own warmer light brown complexion.
"Good morning," she offered, her voice neutral.
"Morning."
The elevator descended in comfortable silence, the floors ticking by steadily. Just as they approached the ground level, the girl spoke without looking at him.
"Aren't you going to ask?"
Merlio remained silent as they stepped out together, walking beside each other toward the reception counter. He could feel her gaze furrowing into the side of his face, but he kept his expression stoic.
Finally, he replied, "Ask?"
Her lips twitched. "...?"
"Now you're the one keeping me silent."
She turned her attention to the receptionist at the counter. Merlio's eyes drifted to the bag she carried—the class label matched his own. He also noticed a food flask and several thick books from niche academic authors, their spines unfamiliar.
They reached the counter and placed their student IDs down. Merlio's voice carried a note of bored curiosity. "Why are you in the boys' hostel?"
"It's none of your business," she replied coldly.
What the hell...?
Merlio stiffened slightly as the receptionist took his ID and scribbled in her notepad. He kept his tone even. "None of my business, yeah? Then why ask me why I didn't ask?"
A soft chuckle escaped her. "Hehehe."
Quite an eccentric character, Merlio noted.
The receptionist finished, and they headed outside. The sun hit them from a new angle, warming the cool morning air. Merlio tucked his hands in his pockets and stood at the edge of the sidewalk, waiting for the campus bus. The girl followed suit, humming a melodious tune under her breath.
Merlio didn't mind. In fact, he found himself subtly bobbing his head to the rhythm. After a moment, he said, "You came to give your brother food, didn't you?"
The black-haired girl stiffened, turning to look at him slowly. "And what told you that?"
"So I'm right, then." Merlio loosened his tie in a fluid motion, a habit when he was thinking aloud. "It can't be a boyfriend. The school's placement of classes is rigorous—plus, information about hostels and class assignments isn't given out until the first day. Also..." He glanced at her. "It's very early."
The girl raised her eyebrows in mock admiration. "A bit close. I'm here early because he doesn't want others getting the wrong idea about a girl visiting him. And if it's me..." She shrugged. "They won't stop teasing him."
Merlio shrugged nonchalantly. "Eh, that makes sense."
The bus pulled up with a hydraulic sigh, and they both stepped on.
---
The ride was quiet but far from silent. Merlio observed, as he always did. Students sat in clusters or alone, each revealing visible tells. Some slumped with tired expressions, already defeated by a day that hadn't truly begun. Others sat with proud postures, chests puffed out, chins raised—first-years staking their claim.
It was a normal visual spectrum in any place with people of different backgrounds, but here, the contrasts were sharp enough to cut.
Near the front, a student with exaggeratedly long hair and sharp, angular features sat utterly still. His face was devoid of any emotion, but he radiated a dominant air of confidence and calm, as if the bus and everyone on it existed merely as his audience.
He's definitely the 'your highness' type, Merlio classified silently.
He looked to the other side. A girl with chestnut brown hair and a lean figure animatedly communicated with those around her. Her section of the bus was the only one booming with laughter and giggles, a pocket of warmth in the otherwise chilly morning.
Merlio rested his chin on his palm thoughtfully. Beside him, Gertrude—he'd decided to think of her that way for now—muttered, "What a try-hard."
Merlio glanced at her with a questioning gaze, but before he could respond, the bus arrived at its destination: the lecture sector.
They descended last, having sat at the back. Merlio stood still for a moment as his feet touched the ground, gathering himself.
"You know..." He still didn't look at her. "What's your name, anyway?"
A pause. "... Gertrude Hildegard."
"So, Hildegard?"
"I'd prefer you refer to me as Gertrude."
"I see..."
Merlio and Gertrude made their way toward their respective classes, their paths diverging only slightly.
---
Merlio stopped before a door marked Class B. He pulled it open and stepped inside. Gertrude followed, walking past him without acknowledgment and taking a seat in the third row, where her name was plastered on the back of the chair.
Following suit, Merlio checked each empty desk until he found his own. Also in the third row, but positioned against the wall, where a glass window offered a view of the corridor beyond. He sat, still and observant, his eyes sweeping the room.
Okay. There's 'your highness.' The long-haired boy sat near the window, already projecting that same imperious calm. The social butterfly girl... The chestnut-haired girl from the bus was there, still radiating energy.
He looked behind him. A girl dressed in prep fashion sat with a sweater layered over her long sleeves, chatting with a small clique of friends who seemed to orbit her like planets around a sun.
So there are two social butterflies? Merlio muttered quietly to himself.
As if on cue, one of the orbiting girls said something that made the leader shoot her a sharp, warning look. The girl immediately fell silent.
Merlio quickly reevaluated. Not just any social butterfly. A mean one.
He turned back to the front just as the lean, friendly social butterfly from the bus—Mia, apparently—was pushing her friend toward the mean girls' clique. Her friend looked hesitant, almost terrified.
"Just go talk to them," Mia urged, nudging her friend forward. "They won't bite."
"I don't know!" her friend whispered desperately. "What should I say? Whatever I say, I'll look uncool!"
Suddenly, Mia's eyes beamed with brilliance. She had an idea.
"Oh, I know!" She stood up and called for the class's attention, her voice bright and carrying. "Good morning, everyone! Since we're still waiting for homeroom to start, why don't we introduce ourselves?"
Her friend hid her face in embarrassment.
Merlio observed with interest. So she's creating an opportunity for everyone to converse and get to know each other. This gives her friend an excuse to talk to the mean girls without it being obvious. Clever.
"I'll go first," Mia continued, undeterred. "My name is David Mia. You can call me Mia or Mimi." She beamed.
We will not be calling you that, Merlio thought dryly.
As soon as she finished, the class erupted into motion. Students eagerly took the opportunity to expand their social circles, voices overlapping in a symphony of nervous introductions and forced laughter.
Merlio sighed inwardly. Should I be socializing? It's necessary, I know. But just from the brief interaction I've had today with Hildegard, I'm already a bit exhausted.
He watched as Mia's friend—Pamela, he'd learn—mustered her courage and walked toward the mean girls' clique. She stopped at their desk, her posture awkward.
"Um, yo, what's up!" Pamela raised her hand for what looked like a high-five. "I'm Pamela Williams."
The mean girls stared at her. One of them smirked, a slow, cruel curl of the lips. They exchanged a glance, then turned back to their conversation, completely ignoring Pamela as if she'd never spoken.
"Sheesh," someone muttered from across the room.
A few giggles erupted. Pamela's face crumpled. She bowed her head and retreated as Mia rushed to console her.
Merlio watched the exchange and shook his head slightly. Turns out she did, indeed, bite.
An amused look crept onto his face—not cruel, simply observational. Fascinating. The social order establishes itself before the first lesson even begins.
The door swung open with a sharp click.
A man walked in, dressed in a formal coat, his gaze sharp as a blade as it swept across the room. The chatter died instantly.
"Good morning, everyone. Settle down."
The man's presence commanded immediate attention. He walked to the front of the class, placed a leather folder on the teacher's desk, and turned to face them.
"My name is Mr. Ashworth. I'll be your homeroom teacher for this year." His eyes scanned the room, lingering for a fraction of a second on certain students—Merlio noticed it lingered on 'your highness,' on the mean girls' leader, and briefly, on him. "Before we begin, I have two announcements."
The room was utterly silent.
"First, welcome to Children of Gambit's Academy. You've survived the entrance screenings. That means nothing. What matters is what you do now." He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. "Second, there will be a placement assessment in three weeks. Your performance will determine your class stratification for the remainder of the semester. Study accordingly."
A ripple of unease passed through the room. Merlio kept his expression neutral, but internally, he was already calculating.
Three weeks. A placement assessment.
He glanced toward Gertrude, who sat perfectly still, her pale face revealing nothing. Then toward 'your highness,' who seemed almost bored by the announcement. Then toward the mean girls, who exchanged confident smirks.
Merlio turned his gaze to the window, watching students hurry past in the corridor beyond.
Interesting. Very interesting.
The day had only just begun.