Episode 3: “Shadows on the Balcony”

The Royal Auditorium of Graymoor University shimmered under sunlight streaking through stained glass windows, casting regal patterns on velvet seats below. Today was Orientation Day. Faculty in robes, students in tailored suits and polished shoes—it was the beginning of everything.

In the bustling Freshman Group Chat, alerts flashed.

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Graymoor Admin:

Orientation starts in 30 minutes. All freshmen must be seated before the first bell. Formal attire required.

Venice:

Skyyyy! Wear something that says “I’m smart but I don’t bite”

Sky : I’m wearing black. That’s me saying: I *might* bite.

Theo :

He’s committed to the dark academia aesthetic, I respect it.

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The massive double doors opened. Rows of freshmen, professors, and photographers filled the seats. The hum of chatter dropped to silence as Professor Allen stepped up to the podium.

“Welcome, Graymoor freshmen,” he began, voice steady and commanding. “Among our distinguished new students, one has been selected to speak on behalf of this year’s class...”

A hush fell over the room. A few phones quietly clicked photos, trying not to be obvious.

“Sky Alexander Leigh Demetre Quinn—please come to the stage.”

In the front row, Venice turned, wide-eyed.

“Girl, what? You didn’t tell us about this!”

Sky simply stood, calmly adjusting the collar of his black blazer. “Because I didn’t know,” he murmured, already walking. “Surprise to me, too.”

He moved with quiet confidence—graceful, sharp, composed. No hesitation.

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At the podium, Sky looked over the sea of unfamiliar faces. Eyes expectant. Cameras waiting. He breathed once, deep and even.

Then he spoke.

Sky (speech):

“Good morning.

I was told ten minutes ago that I’d be giving this speech. So if I trip over my words or forget something important, please direct your complaints to the administration—because I, too, am figuring this out in real time.”

Laughter rippled through the audience.

“To stand here is a privilege, one I did not expect, but one I take with sincerity.

Graymoor is a name we all know—synonymous with excellence, legacy, and rigor. But today, we begin not just as students in a prestigious institution, but as individuals navigating change, pressure, and uncertainty.

Some of us arrived with medals around our necks. Others came through quiet perseverance, resilience that doesn’t make headlines, and a little luck. And some of us—well, we’re here because we refused to give up, even when it would’ve been easier to walk away.

I came to Graymoor with the hope of becoming a doctor—not to chase perfection, but to learn how to listen, to think, and to care in a world that often rushes past those things.

Let this chapter be more than academic survival. Let it be where we grow into the kind of people we once admired. Let us fail, reflect, rise—and do so with grace.

May we leave this hall not just as freshmen, but as the architects of the stories we’ll one day be proud to tell.

Good luck to all of us. And thank you.”

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There was a beat of silence—then thunderous applause. Sky offered a slight bow, his expression unreadable, then stepped off the stage like he had done it a hundred times before.

[Elsewhere – Student Council Office]

Cassandra, sipping tea with one leg crossed, stared at the livestream.

“Not bad for someone who looks like he’d rather be anywhere else.”

Archaell, seated across from her with forms and folders stacked around him, barely looked up.

“Quinn, huh?”

“You know the name?”

He paused. “Everyone in the boardroom does. Dr. Quinn saved the chairman’s life three years ago.”

Cassandra tilted her head. “And the boy?”

“He just spoke like he’s done this a thousand times.”

“So… interesting?”

“No,” Archaell murmured, gaze sharp. “Calculated.”

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