The mirror was blurred, near-dirty, but clear enough. Staring back at him was a reflection he hadn’t quite seen before. His golden hair, slicked back, lent him something he hadn’t expected. The composed bearing of old, rich nobility.

It was the first time since arriving that he’d worn the traditional uniform. Everything black, save for the white shirt and the red cravat, and somehow, on him, it looked less like compliance and more like a choice.

Leomaris took one last look at the shithole that had been his for the past few days. His eyes moved slowly: stained floor, blackened walls, hissing pipes, a ceiling that hadn’t stopped leaking since he’d arrived.

"Finally, I get to leave this wretched place." A malevolent smile crept across his face. "Privileged Hall... here I come."

The opening ceremony was only a few hours away, and once introduced to all the first years as a Calamity, his life would finally change for good.

Privileged Hall wasn’t the top of the hierarchy. His older sister, Rosay, had her own mansion within the academy grounds, which put things in perspective, but compared to this hell, it was a safe haven, and he wasn’t about to pretend otherwise.

A quiet knock came while he dressed. He knew who it was before he reached the door and answered it without hurry. Hazel stood before him in a refined black suit, long dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. For the first time, she looked like a butler.

"You look more handsome than I imagined, young master." She offered a slight bow. "Shall we be on our way?"

"You as well, Hazel. I didn’t think you could wear a suit with such maturity and poise." 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦

She offered another bow. "I do not deserve your praise, young master."

Nobles who joined the academy were afforded one particular privilege, their personal attendants came with them. At the start of the academic year meant everyone dressed accordingly: butlers, maids, knights, guards, no one was exempt. Hazel was no exception.

’The servants are granted the privilege of attending classes and participating in all activities just as the masters do. Since the masters’ status and reputation affect them as well, they are permitted to use their skills to assist in certain aspects. However, I do not think Hazel will remain here for long. I have an assignment for her.’

—

The waiting room leading to the ceremony hall was already busy with familiar faces. At the entrance, an attendant presented him with a formal black overcoat, military in cut, with gold shoulder chains catching the light, ornate trim running its length, and at his right chest, the sacred emblem of the Firstlight Goddess. The mark of a Calamity.

The lighting was soft, casting a gentle dimness over everything. Couches, chairs, and tea tables were scattered throughout, some clustered, some solitary. Against the walls, bookshelves ran the length of the room, packed with books, and stools positioned before them for readers who wanted to stay a while.

None of that held his attention. Three of his fellow Calamities were before him, all in the same uniform.

Charlotte Greenwood had claimed a couch to his left and was reading, unbothered.

Alfred Mathews, the Ace, the only one wearing a barrack cap, was deep in conversation with a staff member near the exit, pausing only to slick his dark hair back whenever the opportunity presented itself.

Then Warner Black Nova, dark-haired, with refined features that could have rivalled Leomaris’s own, the tallest among them at just over six feet one, wearing an expression that suggested he understood approximately as much of the situation as Leomaris did.

’Why is Lucius late? I was hoping to meet him. He was always as punctual as the sunrise... but I guess this story has changed after all.’

His mind was wandering when Alfred and the staff member both looked toward him. The staff member’s expression was the one that landed, face contorting with disgust, the kind that sits right next to nausea. She left the room entirely, as though staying was no longer an option.

Alfred approached with the ease of someone already familiar. "Leomaris, I take it?"

He shook his head. "Aren’t you a little ashamed? The least you could do is forfeit your position entirely."

His eyes moved over the overcoat. "To think you’d show up with such elegance."

Leomaris’s expression remained easy. ’Oh. The news had spread, then. Wide enough, apparently.’

Alfred’s red eyes settled on his golden ones.

"I don’t care what you choose to do," he said, "but for your own reputation, forfeit the Calamity rank. Hand it to Emerald. That, at least, would earn you something resembling respect."

Leomaris flashed him a warm smile, "How generous of you, Ace. I will take this into consideration."

He hadn’t finished speaking before a sound came from Charlotte’s direction. Their attention shifted. She had lowered her book. "No," she said, shaking her head.

Warmth settled in Leomaris’s chest. Emerald’s false claims had truly damaged him, and he had feared it would affect his relationship with Charlotte as well, but the determination behind her soulless eyes and the moment she chose to speak said everything. It was against her principles to be disturbed while reading. She had broken it regardless.

"Don’t worry, Charlotte. I will never surrender this position."

She smiled, and no sooner did she return to reading.

Alfred looked amused, genuinely so. "I never knew you could speak."

His eyes moved between them. "To think the second-ranked Calamity is acquainted with this braggart."

"What’s wrong with that?"

The calm left Alfred’s expression as he turned to Leomaris, not dramatically, but noticeably.

"Everything about this is wrong. A Calamity is meant to lead with respect and dignity."

His voice didn’t rise. "You have no honour. To think you would threaten a student simply to secure the rank."

"What’s wrong with that?"

Irritation crossed his face, and then, as though he’d caught himself, eased away. "I won’t waste my breath."

His eyes stayed on Leomaris a moment longer. "Judging by how you got here, you won’t hold this position for long."

Leomaris smirked. He enjoyed the boiling irritation Alfred was feeling. "Then why say anything in the first place?"

Alfred tried to hold his tongue but couldn’t. "You are quite the irritating fool, aren’t you?"

A calm, confident tone came from behind. "I think you are the irritating one, Ace."

The words barely registered with Leomaris, what caught him was the sensation this person’s presence carried. As if he were the coast itself. Calm, warm, and gentle.

"What did you say?"

He sighed. "Does it matter how he became a Calamity? Ask yourself this... how can someone who managed 470 points and tied for fifth place struggle to hold their position as a Calamity?"

The figure paused, a deliberate thing, letting the silence do its work. "Don’t tell me you believe he bribed the Archmages for those points."

"That would be beyond stupid."

The disrespect landed on Alfred plainly. His anger boiled, close to the surface, closer than he’d have liked, but he saved face, excusing himself before it could spill over entirely.

Leomaris, however, was struck. Silver-blue hair. Blue eyes. An unreadable expression, cold at the edges, and a glass of wine, held with the ease of someone entirely unbothered. Lucius Cutler. The protagonist of the story. He couldn’t have mistaken him for anyone else.

Something was wrong. Lucius had spent years as a mercenary, the novel had been clear about his build, the way he stood well above six feet, and the way his appearance carried everything he’d lived through.

The man before Leomaris carried none of it. What he carried instead was the unmistakable weight of nobility: rich, intimidating, commanding.

The tragic look was there, he’d grant that much, and the novel had mentioned it. But one detail confirmed was not enough. The discrepancies were too many, and they outweighed everything else.

’He never stands in for others. Lucius was far too nonchalant for such a thing... but he just did. He stood in for me.’

Leomaris found it difficult to keep his expression neutral. More unsettling still was his inability to read Lucius at all, and Lucius, of all people, was someone he needed to read. This was the person who might kill him one day.

Lucius smiled. and offered his hand, which was somehow unexpected. "The name is Lucius."

"Not all of us are foolish enough to believe everything at face value."

Leomaris’s hand recoiled. He caught himself, steadied, and managed the handshake.

"Thank you for your kindness, Lucius. I am Leomaris."

Lucius took his seat without another word. Leomaris remained lost in thought. Lucius hadn’t yet pieced together that Leomaris had played a part in his parents’ deaths and wouldn’t, not until the second semester. For now, the handshake had been genuine. That wouldn’t last.

But the story had already changed too much for certainty. Leomaris couldn’t be sure of anything anymore... not timelines, not motivations, not the shape of what was coming. He needed to be mindful around Lucius.

’Something is wrong. Something is definitely wrong.’