I stared at the name written neatly on the door.

Altaire (Master Class)

’Master?’

I turned to Gawain like I had just been personally insulted by the entire institution.

"...Gawain," I said, very calmly. "Do you know the class levels of this academy?"

"This academy has five levels," he said, counting lazily on his fingers. "Novice, Apprentice, Adept, Master, and Grand Master."

I nodded slowly then looked back at the door. "...This must be a mistake," I mumbled.

"What is?" he asked, already walking inside like nothing was wrong in this world.

I followed, still deeply offended. "Only Master class? Did the principal seriously put me in Master class and not Grand Master? The audacity of that old man. I even helped clean his mistakes!1"

Gawain glanced at me, unimpressed. "I seriously admire your arrogance sometimes, My Lady."

"I’m serious right now!" I hissed, dropping into my seat like I was about to file a formal complaint. "Maybe this is revenge. Hah! He just admitted that he couldn’t handle my talent and demoted me."

"Or," Gawain said, sitting beside me, "you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be."

I gasped softly. "...You wound me."

Before I could continue my speech about injustice, the classroom door opened.

And just like that—peace, quiet, my low-profile academic life—ended.

In walked Vivienne Rosenthal, followed by Stephano Rupera, Ravian Caspiold, and one more from the lineup of future problems—either Silvano Orientaly, Sebastian Grimm, or Maximus Raviern.

I dragged my hand down my face.

"That’s it," I muttered. "I’m not participating in society today."

Decision made.

I would pretend to sleep.

Yes.

That was the best strategy. If I couldn’t see them, they couldn’t see me. That’s how logic works.

"Hey—" Gawain started.

Too late.

I dropped my head onto the desk with full commitment. Unfortunately I forgot the desk was not a pillow so I my head slammed straight onto solid wood.

BANG!

Pain exploded across my forehead.

"...Ow."

I slowly lifted my head, rubbing my forehead with the dignity of someone who had just publicly lost all dignity.

"Pfft—!"

I turned to see Gawain’s shoulders were shaking like he was fighting for his life.

"If you don’t let it out," I said sweetly, glaring at him, "I sincerely hope you choke on your own laughter."

That was all the permission Gawain needed.

"Hahahaha! What are you even doing?!" he wheezed, clutching his stomach like I had just performed the greatest comedy of the century.

"Yeah, laugh louder," I hissed, leaning toward him. "I’m sure the entire class hasn’t noticed us yet—oh wait, they already have."

He really laughed louder.

I was about to commit violence when my eyes—traitors that they were—glanced up, locking eyes with Ravian.

’...This is a huge mistake.’

He started walking towards us as my soul left my body.

I snapped my gaze away like I had just made eye contact with death itself and immediately smacked Gawain’s arm.

"Stop laughing!"

"Ow! Ow—My Lady—!" he complained but he was still laughing.

’Absolutely useless.’

I straightened slightly, staring at my desk like it suddenly held the solution to all my life problems.

’If I don’t look at him... he doesn’t exist.’

BANG!

The door slammed open so violently I almost saluted out of reflex.

I nearly teared up. ’Whoever you are—thank you. I owe you my life.’

A man in his thirties strode in. His presence alone was enough to shut everyone up—including Gawain, who was still recovering from his laughing fit.

"I can tell," he began casually, glancing around the room, "some of you hardly slept last night."

A few students stiffened, some avoided eye contact while others looked personally attacked.

"Probably because of the party..." he added with a faint chuckle, "...or excitement."

His tone dropped, slicing through the room like a blade.

"However," he continued, "let me be clear—to both old and new students."

Here it comes.

The "welcome to suffering" speech.

"Not only will you learn and carve... but you will also have to train."

I blinked. ’...Train?’

"Rogue attacks have been increasing," he continued, pacing slowly, his boots echoing faintly across the floor. "Every academy is now required to implement full combat training."

I blinked again.

’Rogues? Combat? Excuse me? I thought this was an academy? Not whatever twisted idea this man had of education.

"Get ready to face several competitions."

Why would there be competitions?

Why would they throw students into situations where we might die?

That sounds very educational.

"You will encounter real-life combat situations," he continued, completely unbothered by the silent panic spreading across the room, "and compete against students from different classes."

’Different classes?’

So not only are we fighting, we’re fighting people who might actually know what they’re doing?

’Fantastic.’

"Prepare yourselves," he finished, "for the harsh realities of the world ahead."

Some students looked excited, nervous, and some looked like they were already reconsidering their life choices.

I leaned back slightly, staring at nothing. "...I just wanted to eat food and experience normal school life," I muttered.

Gawain leaned closer. "...You can still do that."

"While fighting... whatever we’re fighting?"

"...Adds flavor to life."

I slowly turned to him. "...If I die," I said calmly, "I’m haunting you first."

"Fair," he nodded.

I faced forward again just as the man clapped his hands.

"My goal is to push each of you to be the best version of yourselves," he said, scanning the room like he was already deciding who would survive and who would cry first. "So look alive and be competitive! Do you all understand?"

"YES, SIR!"

The enthusiastic response rang out in unison, every student shouting except for me.

He laughed, clearly entertained, the tension cracking just enough for people to breathe again.

"Okay then. Sorry for the late introduction. My name is Dmitri Grant, and I’ll be your instructor for the entire year. Some might call me strict..."

He paused.

"...but I prefer to think of it as setting high standards."

So he’s that kind of teacher.

The "you will thank me later while crying" type.

"I believe that covers my introduction," he added, looking entirely too satisfied with himself, like he just dropped a life-changing speech and expected applause.

Grinning like a kid who clearly enjoyed watching people suffer just a little. "It’s still your first day, so no special training yet."

A ripple of relief passed through the class.

"However," he continued immediately, because of course he did, "starting tomorrow, morning training begins. It’s crucial to keep your skills sharp."

I groaned, slumping slightly in my seat. "I don’t even know if this body is physically fit," I muttered, eyeing my arms like they might suddenly confess their weaknesses.

Beside me, Gawain snorted. "You were ready to overthrow the principal five minutes ago."

"That was intellectual confidence. This is physical betrayal."

Before Gawain could argue, Dmitri spoke again, clearly enjoying the emotional rollercoaster he was putting us through. "So for now, I’ll randomly group you into teams of five."

"For what?" I whispered, already suspicious.

"Tomorrow," Dmitri continued, pacing like a man narrating our impending doom, "your first activity will be Rogue Hunting."

"..."

"You will all be evaluated individually," he added, "based on your skills and how you handle the situation."

’Not only will I try to survive but I will also perform?’

"Don’t worry," he said, smiling.

That smile was suspicious.

"The Rogues you’ll be hunting are scientifically modified and won’t endanger your lives..."

A pause.

"...except for a few minor injuries."

I turned slowly to Gawain. "...Define minor."

Gawain didn’t even hesitate. "Anything that doesn’t kill you."

I stared forward again, deeply reconsidering all my life choices.

"Broken bones are probably considered ’minor,’" I muttered.

"Loss of dignity too," Gawain added.

I sighed.

This academy really woke up and chose violence.

The instructor tapped his OmniSync a few times, and the board lit up like it was about to expose everyone’s fate.

"The names are randomized," he said casually. "So don’t come crying to me asking for changes."

I immediately looked for my name and nearly committed the exact crime he just warned us about.

————————————

Group 5

Caspiold, Ravian

Frostine, Blanca

Orientaly, Silvano

Rosenthal, Vivienne

Rupera, Stephano

————————————

I stared.

And stared.

And stared some more, just in case the letters would rearrange themselves out of pity.

They didn’t.

"...This is a personal attack," I whispered.

"Hmm?" Gawain leaned over slightly.

"Hey Gawain," I said calmly, too calmly, "what if we... change names?"

He blinked. "What?"

"We change identities. New lives. New faces. New destiny."

"...Your name is literally ’Blanca Frostine.’ Mine is Gawain. Do you want me to suddenly become Gwendolyn?"

"...That could work."

"No, it can’t."

I clicked my tongue in disappointment. "You’re not being cooperative."

"I’m being realistic."

I looked back at the board again.

Still the same.

Why.

Why am I teamed up with them?

Out of all the students.

Out of all the possible combinations.

The universe really said, "you know what would be funny?"

And then it did this.

I didn’t even need to turn around to know Ravian was probably smiling like he just won something.

And Stephano Rupera?

Oh, he was definitely already judging my existence.

Meanwhile, Vivienne Rosenthal was probably being nice... which somehow made everything worse.

"And by the way," Dmitri added, completely unaware—or fully aware—of my suffering, "these groups are temporary."

I paused. ’Do I still have hope?’

"Groups will be finalized after your evaluations," he continued, "so we can balance those who are good and those who are worst properly."

Hope died immediately.

So this—this nightmare—was just the trial version.

I slowly dragged my hand down my face. "...I need to fail on purpose."

Gawain turned to me so fast I almost got whiplash from the movement. "Don’t you dare."

"If I perform badly, they’ll separate me."

"If you perform badly, you’ll get injured."

"...Worth it."

"No, it’s not!"

I sighed, staring blankly ahead. "This is exactly what I was trying to avoid."

"Then maybe," Gawain said dryly, "stop attracting attention everywhere you go?"

I looked at him. "...That sounds like victim blaming."

"That sounds like a fact."

I ignored him because right now, I had a bigger problem.

Four of them, actually.

And they were all in my group.