People look at me like I was born for this.
And maybe, in some cruel twist of divine expectation… I was.
"Elias! Prince Elias, over here!"
I turned with practiced ease, my smile soft and warm—not too proud, not too disinterested. Just… approachable. And like moths to a lantern, the crowd around me expanded.
Students clung to my every word. Professors nodded approvingly as I passed. Girls whispered my name as if it were a poem. Boys admired my skill like it was something earned by gods alone.
I hated how easy it was to play the part.
"Your Highness, is it true you once amplified a Wind Sphere spell twentyfold in your entrance exam?"
"He took down the combat instructor in one-on-one sparring."
"I heard his sword movements are based on the Elyrian royal family's forbidden Spirit Vein Draw. It's basically lost to time!"
"Did you see him? His mana flows like silver—his hair is silver!"
"Sheesh, even his eyes sparkle. And that uniform—on him it looks like a king's robe…"
I caught the stares as I walked past the courtyard.
The Academy's uniform was admittedly elegant. A deep navy coat trimmed in silver and royal blue, tailored to perfection. The Elyrian crest was stitched in silver thread over my left breast: twin dragons coiled around a jeweled crown. Polished black boots. White gloves. A tailored blue cravat tucked into my open collar.
To most, I was the picture of grace.
But beneath the uniform, behind the smile, under all the elegance…
I could already feel the anxiety scratching at the walls of my mind like a caged animal.
.
.
.
[Earlier That Morning – Dueling Grounds, Of Rosaria Academy]
The clang of steel erupted through the training field, echoing between marble pillars and the watching crowd of students.
My breath was calm.
My mind was not.
The blade in my hand—a forged auricsteel heirloom named Aetherspire—shone in the morning light. Opposite me stood Instructor Garren Vex, a former royal knight turned academy trainer, muscles taut, magic crackling along his arms.
"Impressive, Your Highness," he growled. "But let's see if you can match the storm."
I didn't answer. I stepped.
He lunged; I parried. The sheer force of the blow numbed my arm.
He rotated mid-swing—lightning magic spiraling down his blade—and I twisted under it, foot sliding through the dirt, re-centering my stance.
Students gasped.
I could hear them.
But I shut it out. Focus.
Instructor Vex came again—this time with blinding speed. I leaned into the tempo, my mana focusing down into my limbs, through the bones, into the sword.
Slirit Vein Draw.
A forbidden technique that channeled one's soul through a compressed window of movement. Time seemed to slow.
I stepped forward and drew—
Our blades met.
An explosion of wind and lightning shattered the earth beneath us, dust rising like a sandstorm.
When it cleared… we stood exactly as we were. Inches from each other. Both of our swords at the other's throat.
A draw.
The crowd erupted in awe.
Instructor Vex chuckled. "You hide your fangs well, Prince."
I just smiled politely and stepped back.
Everyone applauded.
But inside, I could feel my heart pounding so hard I thought it might split open.
—
[Later — Behind the Academy Walls]
The sun dipped low, casting amber light over the silent walkway at the back of the campus.
No students came here. No professors. Just stone, breeze, and stillness.
Perfect.
I let my back hit the wall and finally—finally—let the mask slip.
"Shit," I muttered under my breath. "Damn it, Elias. You're such a goddamn coward."
My hands trembled slightly. I hid them in my pockets.
It was exhausting keeping up the facade. The perfect prince. The skilled heir. The charming student. Every word, every gesture, planned and shaped like swordplay.
There was no room for error.
No room for me.
I was about to curse again when I heard it—a faint snap. A twig underfoot.
I froze, head snapping toward the sound.
Standing at the edge of the corner wall was a girl, the shadows cutting a perfect frame around her.
Azure hair, long and straight. Pale skin like snow beneath the moon. Eyes the sharp, cold color of sapphire.
Her face was unreadable.
And in that silence between us—tension thick and humming—I realized who she was.
Selene D'Arion.
Saintess of the Azure Temple.
One of the chosen twenty in First Class.
"…You come here often to drop your royal persona, Your Highness?" she asked, voice flat and direct.
My brow twitched.
Of all the things she could've said.
"I come here to compose myself," I replied coolly, straightening. "It's been a long day."
She raised an eyebrow, mirroring me. "Didn't look like composing. Looked like you were fed up pretending to be someone you're not."
I flinched. Slightly. But she noticed. I knew she noticed.
I frowned. "That's quite a blunt assumption. Please refrain from acting as though you can read me so easily."
She didn't apologize. Just held up her hands in mock surrender, face still eerily expressionless. "It was an observation, not a judgment. I meant no offense."
Her voice was as cold as her eyes.
It grated at something buried deep inside me.
"Your manner is needlessly rude," I said, sharper than I intended. "You should be mindful of how you speak to others."
I turned, cloak trailing behind me as I began to walk away. "In any case, please refrain from addressing me in the future."
As I vanished past the corner, I could feel her eyes on my back.
—
She stood there for a moment longer, rubbing her head with one hand, a dry look on her face.
"…That went well," she murmured, tone ironically flat. "Didn't think he'd be that sensitive."
She turned her head slightly, eyes narrowing as she gazed into the empty corridor.
Something tickled at her spine.
A presence.
Someone had been watching.
She looked toward the end of the hall.
However, her gaze softened.
The presence was gone, as if it was never there to begin with.
"Strange.." she muttered under her breath. She then turned walking along the path leading back to the front of the academy grounds.
However unbeknownst to her, there was someone watching.
Over at the end of the corridor hall, leaning against one of the stone pillars with a mock grin tugging at the corner of his lip. Was none other then Caelum.
"Well now, that's unexpected" he mused.