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Chapter 18

The hum of voices filled the classroom as students returned from lunch. Some had already taken their seats, chatting with their neighbors, while others were just entering, lazily stretching after their meal. A few had managed to slip past the supervising teachers and smuggled in leftover food, hiding it under their desks.

Harabi sat next to Rumiya, absentmindedly tapping her fingers on the desk. Lunchtime had passed quickly, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that the most interesting part of the day was just beginning.

The bell rang, cutting through the last lively conversations. The door opened, and a tall man in a black frock coat and stern glasses entered—the senior instructor, Mr. Kim.

“Kurosaki Harabi. Sudzukawa Rumiya.” His voice was sharp and uncompromising.

The two girls exchanged glances.

“You two are coming with me,” he added, wasting no time on explanations.

The silence in the classroom thickened like fog. Some students exchanged looks, others whispered among themselves. There were stares—evaluating, cautious, and in some cases, even envious.

“Why just them?” someone muttered from the back row.

“The main families,” another voice answered, and that was enough to silence any further questions.

Harabi tensed inwardly but didn’t let it show. It was only her first day at the academy, and she was already facing this. She noticed Rumiya’s fingers subtly clench the fabric of her skirt beside her.

“Let’s go,” Harabi said softly, standing up first.

Rumiya followed, avoiding eye contact with their classmates.

Mr. Kim turned and walked toward the door, and they hurried after him.

As soon as they stepped outside, the door closed behind them, cutting them off from their familiar classroom. Before them lay a different part of the academy—the one reserved for the heirs of the main families.

The academy’s corridors were bathed in soft light streaming through tall windows. The air carried the scent of old parchment, candle wax, and the faint trace of magic that always lingered within these walls. Mr. Kim’s footsteps echoed with steady precision, while Harabi and Rumiya followed behind, still feeling the weight of their classmates’ stares.

As they turned a corner, a woman blocked their path.

“Kim, have you started collecting students like stamps now?”

Her voice was light and playful but carried a sharp edge.

The woman was short, with fiery red hair that fell carelessly over her shoulders. She wore a loose, oversized suit that only emphasized her laid-back demeanor. Her coal-black eyes quickly scanned Harabi and Rumiya before glinting with amusement.

“Miss Eidos,” Mr. Kim said evenly, showing no sign of surprise at their encounter.

“Oh, so formal, as always!” The woman smirked, crossing her arms. “It’s been so long. I hope your teaching methods have improved even a little over the years? Or are you still pushing students until they turn into mere shadows of themselves?”

Mr. Kim sighed, clearly making an effort to remain composed.

“If you have business, speak. If not, we’re in a hurry.”

“And where exactly are you off to?” Miss Eidos tilted her head with exaggerated curiosity. “Ah, right. Magic class. Mr. Kim, you look so intense that my students and I thought you were leading them into battle. Try to be a little kinder.”

Rumiya pressed her lips together, holding back a smile.

Harabi, meanwhile, glanced back discreetly. Behind the woman, three more students were following. She immediately recognized Miki—her usual energy and cheerful expression unmistakable. The other two, however, were unfamiliar. She didn’t linger on them, simply nodding politely to Miki.

Miki gave a small nod in return and, as if sensing Rumiya watching her, quickly winked at her.

Rumiya’s posture relaxed slightly, and something akin to anticipation flickered in her eyes.

“They’re fine, if that’s what concerns you,” Mr. Kim cut in, returning his attention to Miss Eidos.

“Of course, of course,” the woman sighed theatrically, adjusting her sleeves. “But you do realize that just dragging them into your ‘elite group’ doesn’t automatically make them the best magicians, right? It requires…” She paused for effect, then added with a sly smile, “…the right approach.”

“I have no intention of discussing my methods with you,” Mr. Kim said curtly, resuming his walk forward.

Miss Eidos followed at a leisurely pace, speaking as though they were old friends rather than colleagues forced to tolerate each other.

“Well, that’s a shame. I might have given you some useful advice. Or at least taught you how to smile. You still don’t know how, do you?”

“Miss Eidos,” Mr. Kim’s voice dropped half a tone lower.

“All right, all right,” she waved a hand dismissively. “You just need to loosen up. At least once in your life.”

Harabi listened to their exchange but didn’t interfere. There was tension between them, but it was an odd kind—less hostility and more the weariness of old arguments that never found resolution.

Miki, walking just behind, leaned toward Rumiya.

“Are they always like this?”

“They argue every day, but I like it,” Miki smirked. “It’s a nice little show before class.”

“You two having fun?” Harabi asked, glancing at them with curiosity.

“A little,” Rumiya admitted, still hiding a smile.

The procession of instructors and students finally led them to the academy’s back courtyard. Before them stretched a vast field, enclosed by towering walls. The grass swayed gently in the wind, vibrant green beneath the expansive, cloudless sky.

Harabi instinctively slowed her steps, momentarily awed by the sheer scale of the place. This wasn’t just a training ground—it was a world built for magic.

“Welcome,” Mr. Kim finally said, stopping and turning to face the group. His tone was serious, but his gaze swept over the students with a flicker of curiosity, as if assessing their potential.

Miss Eidos stopped beside him, staring off into the distance, appearing entirely unimpressed.

“Well, Kim,” she drawled. “Let’s see how you handle this.”

“Eidos, with me,” Mr. Kim ordered, striding toward the center of the field.

Miss Eidos, making no effort to hurry, watched him go before stretching lazily and following with an amused smirk.

“Well, of course. Who else would save you, Kim?” she muttered but still headed in the same direction.

At the center of the field, three other instructors had already gathered. Each one seemed to embody a different school of magic. One was a tall, slender man with silver streaks in his dark hair. The second was a short woman with piercing gray eyes. The third was a massive figure with a stern face, arms crossed over his broad chest.

Harabi studied them but didn’t have time for a closer look—around the field, students were already beginning to settle into place.

“Here, come on,” Miki tugged her toward seats closer to the middle. “Better view from here.”

Harabi and Rumiya sat down beside her. The two unfamiliar students who had come with them chose to stay slightly apart, clearly preferring to keep to themselves.

As soon as everyone was seated, a subtle tension filled the air. Even the wind seemed calmer, as if it, too, followed the unspoken rules of this place.

Miki, never one for patience, leaned closer to her friends and whispered conspiratorially:

“You know, magic lessons for us are a whole different thing.”

Harabi raised an eyebrow.

“What do you mean by ‘different’?”

Miki smirked.

“Well, in the regular classes, students just learn the basics—‘repeat this gesture,’ ‘feel the energy flow,’ ‘don’t set your desk on fire,’ that kind of thing.”

Rumiya snickered.

“And here?”

Miki raised a finger as if about to make an important announcement.

“Here, it’s more intense. Heirs of the main families can’t afford to learn slowly. We’re thrown straight into the deep end. There are no ‘simple’ exercises. If you don’t get it, that’s your problem. If you mess up, fix it yourself.”

Harabi looked skeptical.

“They just throw you in with no explanations?”

“Well, they do explain,” Miki admitted. “But no one’s going to coddle you if you don’t catch on. Either you figure it out yourself, or you find a way to survive.”

Rumiya pressed her lips together thoughtfully.

“That’s… harsh.”

“Welcome to the elite,” Miki sighed dramatically.

Harabi stared ahead. The lesson hadn’t even begun, yet she already had the feeling that this was going to be unlike anything she’d experienced before.

Harabi pondered. She understood that the training for the main families would differ from the standard magic course, but she hadn’t expected it to be this drastic. Perhaps this was why the other students were watching them with such curiosity and even concealed resentment.

She glanced toward the center of the field, where the instructors were already deep in discussion. Judging by their gestures and facial expressions, the lesson promised to be interesting.

As soon as all the students took their places around the field, a light tension settled in the air. There were about twenty of them, all from the main families, and their ages varied—from fourteen to eighteen years old.

Harabi looked around. Some faces were familiar—some she had seen briefly at official events, some were part of her past, and some had simply heard of her. In this society, there were almost no accidental encounters. Even if you didn’t know someone personally, your parents had likely crossed paths with their family.

Among the gathered students, she spotted a few familiar figures. For instance, Adena Redhart, who sat at a slight distance, arms crossed, looking clearly displeased with the situation. Or Joon, lazily rubbing the back of his neck, seemingly trying to stay calm. Off to the side sat another group of students who stuck together, as if they had already decided who they wanted to work with.

When the instructors finished their discussion, Mr. Kim stepped forward and raised a hand, calling for silence.

“Welcome, heirs,” his voice was steady but firm. “This magic course is designed exclusively for you—those who bear responsibility for your families, your cities, and your heritage.”

Many students straightened up at his words. Even those who had looked relaxed a moment ago immediately adopted a more focused demeanor.

“This year, you will face something new,” Mr. Kim continued. “Namely—a new magic instructor.”

A murmur swept through the students.

“What do they mean by ‘new’ instructor?” Rumiya whispered, leaning toward Miki.

“They don’t change magic instructors so easily,” Miki replied just as quietly. “Which means this one must be special.”

But Mr. Kim didn’t get the chance to finish.

“And not just new!” Miss Eidos interrupted, crossing her arms and scanning the students with a smug smile. “This instructor is an envoy to the outside world!”

The explosion of whispers was so loud that even the wind seemed to still.

Harabi felt something tighten inside her. An envoy to the outside world? That meant their new teacher wasn’t just a magician but someone who knew and understood the laws of the world beyond Mistland’s borders.

A shiver ran through her.

The outside world.

It was as if a cold wind swept through the arena, bringing with it the realization that this announcement was anything but ordinary.

All magic users now lived on the island of Mistland—closed off and separated from all other continents. Ordinary people were forbidden from stepping foot on this land, a rule that had been upheld for centuries.

But each year, a group of seven was sent from Mistland to the outside world. Their mission was clear—to explore, gather information, and observe how the lands of ordinary people were changing.

And the leader of this group was always a magician chosen by the queen herself. A person held in the highest regard.

A highly esteemed magician…

Harabi’s heartbeat quickened.

The outside world—a world inhabited by millions, if not billions, of people who had no knowledge of magic or places like Mistland. Here, on the island, each main family governed their own city, and their heirs studied to one day take their parents' place.

But the outside world was different. There, magic was considered a myth. There, technology, governments, corporations, and laws ruled—a world that did not acknowledge the existence of people like them.

“And why do we need an envoy?” someone’s voice called from the crowd.

“So that you finally understand that the world isn’t limited to your cities,” Miss Eidos responded with a hint of irritation. “And perhaps learn something new.”

“If you stop discussing and start listening, the lesson will go by faster,” Mr. Kim sighed, motioning for silence.

The murmuring began to fade, though the students’ expressions remained filled with doubt.

“Until the instructor arrives, you have time to form groups,” Mr. Kim’s voice was sharp and businesslike. “Working alone won’t be an option here, so team up with those you trust.”

Some students immediately started exchanging glances and forming groups. Some already knew who they wanted to work with, while others were only now looking for allies.

Harabi sat at the edge of the arena, letting her legs dangle over the side, observing those around her. The air carried the light scent of sun-warmed sand and metal—the familiar smell of training grounds. The instructors had left the arena.

As expected, the heirs of the main families remained cautious, mostly sticking to those they were already familiar with. No one wanted to make the wrong choice in selecting their allies, making new friendships slow to form.

Her gaze landed on a head of silver hair, neatly tied up in a bun.

Silver.

Her porcelain-white skin seemed to glow under the sunlight, and her graceful movements spoke of practiced discipline. She didn’t stay with any one group for long, moving from one to another. It was as if she was studying everyone, observing, drawing conclusions.

Harabi smiled and waved, hoping to catch her attention, but Silver only gave a brief nod, her expression unchanged. Then, her slender figure once again disappeared into the crowd.

“I didn’t know you were making friends with upperclassmen,” came a familiar voice from behind.

Harabi turned to see Tatsuki standing with her arms crossed, smirking as if she already knew the answer to her own question.

“We met this morning,” Harabi shrugged with a smile, shifting to make space.

Tatsuki sat down beside her, still watching her closely. And then he appeared.

Victor Fors.

Serious, composed—he always seemed as though he had planned out every move in advance. A year older than Harabi, he belonged to the Fors family from Geomir. An heir, the eldest son, a person from whom great things were expected. Like many in his family, he possessed a calm and level-headed nature, though he wasn’t cold—just distant, as if always lost in thought.

He stopped nearby and gave a short nod.

“Good to see you again.”

Harabi stood, politely bowed, then extended her hand. Victor shook it firmly, but not too strongly—just enough to convey respect.

“Likewise,” she replied.

He sat down next to Tatsuki, who crossed her legs and leaned lazily against his shoulder. It was a subtle but obvious sign of closeness. Victor was her boyfriend, though they didn’t flaunt it—they simply acted naturally.

“The first week of training isn’t going smoothly,” he remarked, running his fingers over the edge of his sleeve.

“No kidding,” Tatsuki scoffed, twisting a strand of her hair. “We don’t even have all the specialized instructors. Everyone’s busy investigating the fire.”

Harabi furrowed her brows. Tatsuki continued,

“They’re still looking into it. I thought they’d have some conclusions by now.”

Victor cast her a quick glance, as if considering whether he should say more.

“There are rumors among the upperclassmen.”

“What kind of rumors?” Harabi straightened, intrigued.

“That it wasn’t just an accident.”

“Are you serious?” Tatsuki blinked.

“No one says it outright, but you know the academy harbors too many secrets. Too much power is tied to this place.”

“Considering that not only the instructors but also family representatives are investigating, it’s too serious to just brush off,” Tatsuki added.

Harabi knew this wasn’t an accident. The headmaster had already spoken to those involved. Despite that, the situation still unsettled her. The academy was trying to keep everything quiet, but rumors had a way of spreading. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off—something bigger than anyone wanted to admit. The atmosphere in the halls felt different, more tense. People were hiding things, and Harabi couldn’t ignore the fact that something important was slipping past her notice.

“And you, Harabi?” Tatsuki’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. “Is there anything you don’t like yet?”

“I only started this year,” she finally said with a shrug. “I don’t have much to complain about.”

“Consider yourself lucky,” Tatsuki huffed.

Victor nodded.

“Being new this year might be a good thing. The less you know, the less is expected of you. Still, I never understood why newcomers start a week later than us.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Harabi noted.

“It’s just a fact,” he replied calmly.

Tatsuki rolled her eyes.

Victor turned his gaze back to the arena.

“This week has been… complicated.”

“I agree,” Tatsuki sighed.

Harabi nodded, looking at the student groups—until one of them caught her attention.

Miki, Rumiya, Joon, and Zero.

The four stood together, but tension hung between them. Harabi smiled and waved. Only Rumiya responded, gently waving back. The rest… seemed to be arguing again.

Then, as if a storm was brewing, the tension in the air thickened.

Someone murmured something under their breath.

And then, the arena echoed with a loud voice.

Adena stood in the center of the arena, her posture impeccably straight, her expression cold and impassive. Behind her stood two students, and from their confident stances, it was clear they were representatives of the student council.

Harabi cast a quick glance at them, but before she could get a good look, Viktor leaned in slightly and quietly said:

— The girl to Adena’s right is Elia.

Harabi raised an eyebrow in surprise.

— Elia? Your sister?

She focused on the girl with long, dark hair neatly braided. Her features had become sharper, her gaze colder, even her manner of standing had changed. The glasses she wore added a sense of strictness to her image. She looked mature—nothing like the little girl Harabi faintly remembered.

— Wow, she’s grown... — Harabi breathed, genuinely astonished.

Beside her, Tatsuki smirked.

— Harabi, she’s older than you. You’re not the one to talk about how much she’s grown.

Viktor barely smiled but said nothing.

Harabi turned her attention back to the student council.

— And who’s the second girl behind Adena?

Tatsuki glanced briefly at the slender girl with dark blue hair tied into two buns and whispered:

— Noelle Winterson. First-year. She joined the student council recently. They say she took her sister’s place.

— Her sister’s? — Harabi frowned, not understanding.

The answer didn’t come from Tatsuki, but from Viktor.

He said just one name:

— Silver Winterson.

Harabi froze, feeling her mind immediately start piecing things together.

— Silver? — she whispered.

She looked from Noelle to the image of Silver, still fresh in her memory. They looked nothing alike. Silver had silvery hair, flawlessly pale skin, and cold restraint. Noelle had dark hair, like a frozen lake at night, slightly warmer skin tone, sharp facial features, and a less confident posture, as if she wasn’t yet fully used to her role.

Harabi wanted to ask more, but at that moment, Adena interrupted her thoughts.

— I ask that everyone listen to me carefully instead of whispering, — her voice rang out, steady and firm, like a dagger striking stone.

Instantly, silence fell over the arena.

— Since everyone here represents the main families, hierarchy does not apply at this moment, — Adena continued. — We all come from different cities, but here, we are equals.

A few students exchanged glances, but no one dared to object.

— The magic lesson is a place where everyone prepares for the future, — Adena took a few steps forward, hands clasped behind her back. — So take it seriously.

Her voice was strict, even slightly harsh, but not the least bit pompous. She wasn’t threatening—just stating a fact.

— A new instructor has arrived, so I ask you all to show respect.

A man entered the arena with a confident stride, but his movements held no unnecessary sharpness or arrogance. He simply walked—calmly, measuredly, as if he had nothing to prove.

At first glance, he looked young—perhaps twenty-five, maybe a little older. But it was hard to tell for sure. Mages, thanks to their power, lived longer than ordinary people and often appeared younger than their true age.

The first thing that stood out was his dark skin, contrasting sharply with the white sweatshirt he wore. The second—his bright blue eyes, almost glowing against the deep tone of his face.

Blue eyes...

From Soleil, without a doubt.

But it wasn’t his eyes that drew the most attention from the students.

Gloves.

Black gloves covering his hands up to the wrists. They didn’t fit his look, didn’t match his clothing or posture. They seemed... out of place.

Some students tensed, looking closer.

Where the gloves ended, his skin was... blacker than darkness itself.

Burns.

Dead, scarred skin, as if charred by fire. Or... cursed?

A shiver ran down Harabi’s spine.

Tension hung in the air.

Then the man clapped his hands—a sharp sound echoing across the arena, breaking the thick silence. He stepped forward and stood next to Adena.

And to the surprise of many, he bowed to her.

— Thank you very much, Your Highness, — his voice was soft but confident, with a slight huskiness. — It is an honor to receive such an introduction from the princess.

Princess.

Adena’s face remained unchanged. She didn’t even look at him. She simply turned and stepped back without a word.

— Luka Ambers, — the man introduced himself, his voice steady yet with an almost imperceptible sharpness, as if he already knew his name would stir a reaction.

The crowd of students murmured. For most, the name meant nothing, but the man himself... His confidence, his posture, his gaze—it all revealed that he was more than just a teacher.

But for Harabi, it wasn’t just a name. It echoed in her mind, striking her like a physical blow to the chest.

Luka Ambers.

Harabi abruptly stood up.

That name.

It had appeared in her sister’s journals.

But who was he?

What was his connection to Meruka?

She couldn’t recall immediately, but something inside her clenched painfully.

Her reaction was so sudden that many students turned, exchanging looks. Viktor frowned, and Tatsuki slowly turned her head toward her.

But the loudest thing in the silence was laughter.

Fake.

Too smooth. Too practiced.

— Oh, I understand that many of you aren’t happy to see me here, — Luka tilted his head slightly, scanning the students with a calculating gaze.

A murmur swept through the arena.

— But trust me, Mr. Rain was long overdue for retirement.

Some students exchanged glances. It was odd hearing such words—despite his age, Mr. Rain had always seemed full of energy.

Luka paused briefly, as if giving the audience time to process his words. Then, with a slight smirk, he added:

— He even taught me magic when I was a student. About twelve years ago.

Silence.

Harabi saw some senior students frown in confusion, trying to recall if this man could have really been one of their predecessors.

Luka laughed again.

But now, Harabi heard it too clearly.

That laughter wasn’t real.

It was... defensive.

As if he already knew he would be met with hostility.

And then, his blue eyes met hers.

— My lady, — he said calmly, not looking away. — No need to react so sharply.

A beat.

All eyes turned to Harabi. She felt their stares on her skin.

Confusion.

Curiosity.

Suspicion.

Harabi tensed, feeling an uncomfortable sensation rising within her. She sat down, as if obeying his words, but her heart pounded too loudly.

Tatsuki leaned toward her.

— What’s wrong? — her voice was quiet but firm.

Harabi didn’t answer. She kept watching him. What could her sister have written about him? She couldn’t remember.

Luka smirked, his eyes gleaming beneath long blond bangs as he observed the students, watching their reactions with a faint smile. The tension in the room was almost tangible. His gaze drifted over each student, as if he were searching for something.

— You’ve grouped yourselves, as usual, for magic lessons. Mr. Rain’s old method, — he said with a touch of sarcasm, then smirked again. — Looks like this approach no longer works. I’d say it’s... outdated.

He clapped his hands, the sound striking the air, making the silence even heavier.

— No more usual groups, — Luka shook his head, as if internally disappointed. — That won’t do. We’re not following old patterns anymore.

The hall filled with murmurs of discontent as students exchanged glances and began whispering among themselves. Harabi noticed how some of them were visibly anxious, their faces showing concern—they were used to their partners, and this change felt strange and even unpleasant.

At that moment, Adena stepped forward, as confident as ever, but with a slight hint of displeasure.

“Mr. Ambers,” she began, her voice colder than usual. “Many of us have been working in the same groups since we first entered the academy. We’ve grown accustomed to each other, and changing everything now feels… strange.”

Luka looked at her with an expression that could be described as both curious and slightly mocking. He gestured for her to come closer. A flicker of unease crossed Adena’s eyes as she noticed the gesture. She frowned slightly, making no attempt to hide her irritation, but still walked toward him.

Harabi caught something dark in Adena’s gaze. She clearly didn’t like Luka’s gesture. As always, Adena was prone to control, and the fact that the teacher was so blatantly ignoring her will was something that had often unsettled her before.

Luka stood up, his movements calm yet carrying a subtle air of superiority. He positioned himself behind Adena—not too close, but enough for her to feel his presence. The teacher stood in the shadow, almost obscuring her silhouette, and then he spoke:

“Princess Readheart… though I suppose just ‘Adena’ will do.”

He paused, giving Adena time to catch the hidden meaning in his words. Then he continued with a smile,

“So, Adena, tell me—by what criteria do you think these groups were originally formed?”

Adena turned sharply, her gaze turning icy. She could tell that this was not just a rhetorical question—there was something more behind it. Luka was clearly trying to provoke her, to put her in an uncomfortable position.

“We were grouped based on familiarity and mutual understanding,” she said, her voice tense despite her attempt to remain composed. “It is much easier to work in teams built on trust and respect.”

Luka didn’t respond right away. He kept looking at her, as if evaluating her words and choosing his next move carefully. The silence that followed stretched taut like a string. The students watched them closely, trying to grasp where this conversation was leading.

Then Luka finally spoke, his voice soft but carrying a clear emphasis on meaning.

“Don’t you think that’s a little… convenient?” He raised an eyebrow, his gaze sharpening. “You’ve all grown comfortable in your groups. But magic isn’t supposed to be comfortable. We’re here to push your limits. And that applies not just to your magical skills but also to your ability to adapt.”

Luka stepped back, sweeping his gaze over the room as if ensuring everyone was absorbing his words.

“Familiar bonds and comfortable teams are not the path I intend to offer you,” he added with a cold smile. “If you want to master true magic, you must be capable of working with anyone. Anywhere. Anytime.”

At these words, several students exchanged glances again, uncertainty hanging in the air.

“Now,” Luka continued, shifting back into his role as an instructor, “I ask you to reconsider your views on partners and teams. Don’t see this lesson as just an exercise. This is your future, and it begins now.”

His voice grew firmer, carrying a hint of authority.

“By the end of this month, I will form groups of three. And trust me, these groups may include familiar faces—or complete strangers. Everything will depend on harmony.”

His words lingered in the air, and Harabi felt a wave of unease pass through the students. Many clearly didn’t like this idea. Adena, always composed and confident, was ready to protest, but Luka cut her off again before she could speak.

“Learn to build your own connections, rather than relying on those crafted by your parents,” he said, giving Adena a pointed look. “Or will you spend your whole life under their wing, following their commands?”

His words caused a stir in the hall, a tension settling over the students like a heavy weight. Adena felt her patience beginning to wear thin. But then, Luka’s gaze changed. It drifted somewhere distant, as if lost in old memories, and his tone softened—becoming almost introspective.

“To live bound by the chains of family traditions, to follow their will—is to be caught in a web. You pull the threads where your family demands, but what if you step beyond those threads? What if you weave your own web—more intricate, more beautiful, more free?” he murmured, almost thoughtfully.

These words, so unexpectedly philosophical and emotionally charged, echoed in Harabi’s mind. Suddenly, something felt… off. These phrases sounded familiar. They reminded her of something from her sister’s journals.

Meruka, her older sister, had written about this too… A web, threads, the ties that family creates—her words resurfaced in Harabi’s memory, now carrying a far deeper weight and a sense of unease.

She couldn’t ignore this. This was more than just a coincidence. There was something important hidden in these words. Her gaze instinctively swept over the students, searching for anyone else who might have felt the same.

Then, her eyes landed on Rumiya.

The girl sat in silent confusion, her expression troubled, her eyes flickering with anxiety and uncertainty. Rumiya had noticed something too—something important. Though she was never one to easily reveal her emotions, Harabi could sense that this moment had struck a chord with her.

Rumiya, just like Harabi, had recognized something. Whether it was an intuitive response or something deeper, neither of them could ignore the fact that Luka’s words carried a meaning beyond what was spoken.

A strange, electric tension filled the air, and Harabi instinctively felt that this was the beginning of something much bigger. It was as if every student in the hall was connected to this moment in some unseen way. And something in this space was demanding their attention.

Luka swept his gaze over the room, a faint smirk playing on his lips, as if he was waiting.

As if he knew he had stirred something.

And perhaps… that had been his goal all along.

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