Lucien's first day at the academy had arrived.
Gone were the luxurious robes tailored by the royal palace's finest hands. In their place hung a crisp academy uniform: a fitted red coat with gold linings, a white shirt beneath, black tie, and dark pants that hugged his legs with just the right fit. He ran his fingers through his freshly combed hair and glanced at himself in the dormitory mirror.
"Damn, still handsome."
He muttered with a smirk.
The red accent of the coat gave him a dignified presence, noble yet sharp. It reminded him of his high school uniform from his previous life. A strange sense of nostalgia fluttered in his chest—one of the few pieces left from a life now long gone.
He tilted his head slightly and gave the mirror a half-smile.
"I wonder… how many women will fall for me with just this smile?"
He chuckled under his breath. It wasn't arrogance. Well—maybe a little. But he had earned this pride.
When he stepped out of his dorm, the noise hit him like a wave.
The courtyard was alive. Tens of thousands of students were gathered in groups—talking, laughing, chattering. Some wore robes, others armor, and some, like him, had already donned their official uniform. Flags of each class year fluttered in the wind, and banners welcoming first years hung across the stone walls.
Lucien walked forward, absorbing the energy of the place. He kept his pace relaxed, hands in his coat pockets, eyes calmly scanning the crowd. Already, heads began to turn. Students whispered. Some stared. Others just tried not to look too obvious.
He slowed his steps near a marble fountain where a group of older students were deep in gossip.
"Admission this year was pretty moderate, nowhere near as wild as last year."
"Yeah. Not many big names this time. Only a few notables."
"But did you hear? The prince joined."
"The prince?"
"Yeah, that prince—Lucien Graycliff. The Useless Prince himself."
Lucien raised an eyebrow, pausing in place, his back still to them.
"No way! He's here? I thought he'd be homeschooled forever."
"Rumor is he got placed into Class 3-C directly."
"Wait, what? No way a deadbeat makes it to Class 3 anything."
"No, it's real. I heard it from one of the instructors. He passed the test with a weird technique that made even Instructor Rey acknowledge him."
Lucien smiled faintly and walked on, a flicker of pride glinting in his eyes.
But the conversation didn't stop there.
"I heard three other names too. The academy's watching them closely."
"Right, the three 'Geniuses' of this year."
"The son of Duke Van Vlek, Luigi. Class 3-A."
"The daughter of Baron Tuaha, Bianca. Class 4-D. Magic prodigy."
"And then… a commoner."
The voice turned more curious.
"Sistina. No last name. Just Sistina. Class 3-C."
"That girl? Yeah, she's something. I saw her duel a third-year during the pre-evaluation."
"Not to mention, she's got huge… assets."
Lucien rolled his eyes and walked past, resisting the urge to slap the guy on the back of the head.
Still, Sistina... he made a mental note of the name.
Eyes followed him wherever he went. Some filled with admiration, some with jealousy. Many didn't know whether to greet him or avoid him altogether. His presence stirred the crowd—not because of power, but because of his status. Royalty came with its own weight.
The cafeteria was just ahead, and the scent of freshly baked bread and roasted meat hung in the air. Lucien entered, glancing through the rows of long tables filled with first-years.
He spotted his sister quickly—her silver hair glowing in the soft afternoon light. Iris sat at a corner table with some of her friends. The moment she saw him, her face went red.
"Lucien?"
She said, a bit too loudly.
"Morning, sister."
Her friends turned, staring at him, some giggling. Others simply blinked.
"Could you not do this in front of everyone?"
Iris hissed under her breath, her face visibly flustered.
Lucien leaned a bit closer.
"What? I just wanted to say hi."
"You're literally making the entire cafeteria look at me right now."
"Is that bad?"
Iris buried her face in her hand.
"Just… go already. I'll see you later."
Lucien chuckled and gave a small wave to the stunned table before leaving.
The academy, as Lucien had learned, was built on a five-class system:
Class 1 was the beginner level, where most newcomers without prior training were placed.Class 2 housed those with foundational skills—usually average nobles or trained commoners.Class 3 was for advanced students who had shown significant potential, either through entrance exams or prior recommendation.Class 4 and Class 5 were reserved for prodigies, top-tier nobility, and handpicked talents.
Each year, students automatically progressed one class level depending on age. However, exceptional students—those at the top of their current class—were allowed to undergo a Re-evaluation Test, giving them the chance to skip levels and rise faster through the ranks.
Only a handful ever succeeded.
And Lucien? He wasn't going to settle for natural promotion. He craved more.
Power. Recognition. Fame.
He wanted his name etched into the walls of this academy.
"Class 3-C. That's just the start."
Later that afternoon, he walked to the lecture hall for orientation. Professors stood at the front podium, addressing thousands of students seated in the semi-circular tiers. It was the official beginning of their academic lives.
Lucien sat quietly, listening to the speech.
"You are here because you have the potential."
The headmaster, a silver-bearded man in mage robes, said.
"But potential without effort is nothing. Every year, many fail to rise. Some quit. Others vanish. But a few... a rare few rise beyond all expectations."
The man's eyes swept across the sea of students. For a moment, Lucien felt them lock onto him.
"Do not waste your chance."
The students clapped. The ceremony ended shortly after, and they were dismissed to their dorms or training areas.
Lucien walked out into the golden afternoon sun, the warm breeze rustling his coat.
A new chapter had begun.
But unlike the last life—this time, he wouldn't be ordinary.
He'd make sure of it.