The scent of new sheets and lavender soap stirred Troy from sleep.
His eyes opened slowly to the dimly lit room, cool air brushing his cheek as the magically-regulated temperature kept things crisp. A gentle chime echoed once, twice, then faded—his internal wake-up charm doing its job.
He sat up in bed, hand instinctively reaching for the pendant on the nightstand. Still there. Still humming faintly.
It was quiet here. Fourth floor of Dormitory Building 1—the elite floor reserved for the top ten freshman. Floor three was for students who had ranked 11 through 100, and below that… the average crowd. Not that it mattered to him. But he knew what this placement meant: someone was watching. And he didn't like that.
He rubbed his face and exhaled.
Across the hallway, Room #1 was stirring.
Jess was already dressed, her long black hair tied into a low ponytail. Her room was minimal, but elegant. A single orchid glowed softly in a floating glass pot above her desk, and books were stacked neatly on the shelves, most of them handpicked from the Orientation's prize pool.
Her eyes drifted toward the window. The early sun filtered through the tree line outside the academy. Her expression was unreadable, thoughtful maybe. Tired definitely.
She exhaled and grabbed her coat.
As she opened her door, Jess paused. Standing there, hands in his pockets, looking half-grumpy and half-bored, was Troy.
He had his same messy black hair, pale skin, and eyes that carried that now-familiar "I'd-rather-be-anywhere-else" glare.
"Took you long enough," he said dryly.
"You could've knocked," Jess replied with a light grin, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Then I'd have to wait. This way, I just stand here and suffer."
"Aw, look at you, already learning patience."
She reached out without hesitation and took his hand.
Troy blinked. "...What are you doing?"
Jess looked up at him, deadpan. "Getting breakfast. Or would you rather go alone and let everyone think you're sulking because you didn't get Room #1?"
He muttered something about room numbers being "a meaningless social construct," but didn't pull away.
They walked together toward the first floor—the cafeteria.
—
The moment they stepped through the arched threshold, the entire cafeteria buzzed.
Voices dropped. Forks paused halfway to mouths. Students turned, eyes wide.
It wasn't every day you saw the top 2 freshman walking hand-in-hand like a couple out of a romance novel.
The cafeteria was built like a grand dining hall, stone pillars carved with magical sigils running along each side. Floating orbs of light hovered midair, shifting through soft pastel colors. Wooden tables stretched from wall to wall, packed with students chattering, eating, and now, whispering.
Some of the gossip was innocuous.
"Are they siblings?"
"No, they're cousins, right?"
"They've gotta be related—look at the hair!"
"I heard they're both from some noble line."
"No way, he looks like a vampire."
Troy scowled.
"I hate this era," he muttered, eyes narrowing.
Jess, still holding his hand, chuckled. "Because people assume people with the same hair color are siblings?"
"Yes!" he hissed. "It's such a stupid logic! Next thing you know, if two people wear boots, they'll assume they're married."
She smiled into her drink as they sat at an empty table. The food was surprisingly decent: roasted potatoes, eggs, fresh fruit, and tea that tasted faintly of mint and honey.
Their manners stood out. Even among the top-ranked students, most were still teenagers with barely-contained energy. But Jess and Troy moved with quiet grace—neatly cutting their food, eating in measured bites, and never slouching. It was second nature. After all, they had been raised in the 1700s.
Of course, most students didn't know that. They just thought the "siblings" were weirdly well-mannered and intimidatingly pretty.
And then there was Plaza Cruise.
With her cool ocean-blue eyes and shoulder-length light blue hair, she sat a few tables away, surrounded by her entourage. The girls at her table were already giving Jess looks.
"Ugh, she thinks she's so special just because she's the 'Headmaster's daughter.'"
"She's probably not even that strong. Just popular."
"I bet the only reason she got #1 room was because of her connections."
"Her brother though…" one of the girls whispered with a smirk. "He looks dangerous."
"Like a vampire prince," another sighed dramatically.
Plaza had heard enough.
Her gaze drifted toward the table where Troy and Jess sat. The girl wasn't stupid. She could feel the difference in the air around them. Jess's calm control. Troy's cold strength.
Curiosity warred with irritation in her chest.
As Troy casually glanced in her direction, their eyes locked for half a second.
And for reasons she didn't understand—her heart skipped.
She huffed, grabbed her tray, and stood. Her entourage followed instantly.
Jess leaned in. "You know you just caused a wave of emotional confusion in the heart of the second-most popular girl in this school, right?"
Troy stabbed a piece of potato. "I just looked at her."
"Exactly."
They finished their meal as the chatter around them shifted back to other rumors. Everyone knew tomorrow was when class choosing began—and unlike other academies, Star Academy of England allowed students to freely switch electives for one week to help them find their fit.
Of course, the two core classes—General Studies and either Swordplay or Magic Knowledge—were locked in. But still, that one-week window brought a lot of energy and chaos.
As they exited the cafeteria and wandered the halls, Jess looked around curiously. "This place is… kind of nice."
"Too clean," Troy muttered. "Smells like bureaucracy."
Just as they turned a corner—
WOOF!
A massive black dog barreled toward them, half of its body phased into the ground like some kind of adorable shadow-monster hybrid.
Jess blinked. "Is that a dog or a ghost?"
The creature skidded to a halt right in front of them, tail wagging, before spinning in a circle and sprinting away—only to stop mid-run and whimper as a loud voice thundered down the hallway.
"DUG!"
The dog groaned audibly, lowered its head, and turned back. Trotting sheepishly toward the source of the voice, a tall man with storm-gray hair and round spectacles emerged, his robes flaring dramatically, Dug's caretaker when the Detention Faculty weren't available.
Jess smiled. "Morning, Mister Holland."
The teacher raised an eyebrow. "Miss Jess. Mister Troy. Enjoying your top-floor privileges?"
"I could do without the ranking system," Troy said flatly.
"I hear that every year," Holland replied, adjusting his glasses. "Yet no one gives up their suite."
Jess stifled a laugh.
As Holland leaned down to scold Dug, Troy stepped closer. "Best not let your mutt cause trouble, Professor. Would be a shame if you got sent to detention."
"Are you threatening me, Mister Troy?" Holland asked, half-smirking.
"Not really," Troy said. "Just a friendly warning."
He turned and walked off with Jess, who whispered, "Were you threatening both of us?"
Troy shrugged. "Didn't feel like it."
Jess laughed softly. "You're such a menace."
And so began the calm before the storm. Sunday would be the last day of peace. Tomorrow, classrooms opened, spells were cast, swords were drawn, and the real game began.
But the academy was watching.
And so were the shadows.