Is It Weird for a Guy to Apply to a Witch School?-Chapter 13 - Student ID in Hand

Before I knew it, Bai Yu was draping the witch’s cloak over my shoulders, pinning the badge to my chest with practiced ease.

“This one’s got a solid spell enchantment,” she said, adjusting it with care. “Out of the bunch, it’s probably the most durable. Shouldn’t crap out on you even if you overuse it.”

“Wait—the badge can break?” I latched onto that little bombshell.

“Oh, yeah,” she said, nodding. “Witchcraft’s high-energy stuff. Even basic spells wear things down when you channel power through them. These enchanted badges? Just a crutch for newbies. Once you’re past the beginner stage, they’re basically decor.”

“Huh. Makes sense.” I ran my fingers along the brim of my witch hat, mulling that over as we stepped out of the room.

When we passed a mirror, I couldn’t resist—I plopped the oversized hat onto my head. Instantly, the whole witchy vibe cranked up a notch.

“Does it look good?” I blurted out, turning to Bai Yu before I could stop myself.

The second the words left my mouth, I froze. Why’d I even ask that? I wasn’t the type to care about my outfit. And this wasn’t even girly stuff—just a cloak and a hat. Is this the witchification thing kicking in, or is it just… me?

I brushed the thought aside. Didn’t matter. I was already plotting to rock a skirt someday—caring about this was small potatoes in comparison. Might as well lean into it.

“You look great,” Bai Yu said, her smile widening as she took me in. “Pair it with some matching threads, and you’d be golden.”

“Sweet. So, where to next?” I skipped a few steps ahead of her, spinning around to face her with a grin.

Thanks to Bai Yu, I hadn’t even glanced at the enrollment checklist—I was just riding her coattails through this whole thing.

“Should be the last stop,” she said, pausing to think.

“Already? What’s left?” I asked, a little bummed it was wrapping up so fast.

“Your student ID. Everyone gets one—it’s a big deal.”

“Then let’s move! Time’s ticking!” I checked my phone—well, phones. I had two now: my old one and the one issued by the school. Both showed the same time, but my personal one was a brick here—no signal.

Guess that senior wasn’t kidding about the academy being in some weird dimension. My trusty old phone was officially retired. Bittersweet, but whatever.

Bai Yu led me to the ID office, tucked inside what looked like a classroom building. There were temporary signs pointing the way, but good luck finding it solo—I’d have circled the place for hours without her.

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“New student here for an ID?” a voice called out the second I stepped inside. The senior at the desk didn’t even look up—she was already in business mode. I hadn’t said a word, but I gave her a quick wave anyway.

“Alright, name?” she asked, her tone lazy as she fiddled with some complicated-looking gadget in front of her.

“Yang Yuehan,” I said politely.

“Yang Yuehan…” She tapped at the screen, then frowned. “Nada. Just a guy with that name—last-minute admit, too.” She glanced up, eyeing me like she was trying to solve a puzzle.

“If I’ve got it right, that guy’s me,” I said, keeping my smile steady as I nudged her along.

“Huh?” The senior jolted upright, her lazy vibe vanishing as she let out a confused little grunt.

She stared at me, eyes narrowing, then broke into a slow, knowing grin that said she’d just cracked some secret code.

“Ohhh—oohhh—I get it now,” she drawled, her tone climbing and dipping like she was savoring the revelation. “Little freshman—or, wait, little guy—you’ve got potential! Welcome to the trainee club.”

She beamed at me. “You’re the first guy I’ve seen handle this ID signup so well and still stay so chill. At least, the first I’ve met.”

What could I say to that? I just kept smiling.

“Yang Yuehan, right? No fibbing on this one,” she teased. “So, you sticking with that name?”

“Yeah, keeping it,” I said with a nod. It was my name from my past life—and I once had a different name in this life. I’d changed it myself. That name? Barely remembered it anymore.

“Photo, then? Wanna keep the old guy-version for nostalgia, or snap a fresh one?”

“Fresh one,” I said, earnestly. “Time to say goodbye to the past.”

“Alright, come with me!” She hopped up, chipper now, and waved me toward a rickety-looking photo booth tucked behind her desk.

After some fussing around—lighting tweaks, a few test shots—I finally had my student ID in hand.

I said a warm goodbye to the senior, who’d turned out to be pretty cool despite her sly digs.

“All set?” Bai Yu asked, perking up as I stepped outside.

“Yup, done.” I flashed the card at her, giving it a little wiggle.

The ID was simple but striking. On the left, my photo: me in full witch gear, cloak and all. The hat’s massive brim didn’t even fit in the frame, but I liked it that way.

The senior had taken a bunch of shots, and I’d picked this one—caught me just right.

On the right, the basics: my name, the academy, and a student number—“41145134015.”

A quick glance told me “1145” was the year, tied to the founding of the first school, Sorcerer School, way back when they set year one.

History was fuzzy on the details, but it was clear the school had flipped the world on its head.

The “4” up front? Probably meant the Witch School was the fourth transcendent school to pop up. Say what you will about its shady reputation—it still held its own against the big three.

The card itself felt like smooth wood in my hand, alive with faint blue energy pulsing through it.

Tiny veins of light spiderwebbed across the surface, like cracks in a tree trunk. I flicked on my Psi-vision to peek closer—yup, transcendent vibes for sure.

Energy swirled out of it, dissipating into thin air, only to get sucked back in just as fast. It was like the card was breathing, perfectly balanced—no heat, no glow, just a quiet hum of power.

Leave it to the Witch School to make even an ID feel magical.

“Sis!” I chirped, holding the card between two fingers as I sidled up to her. “You said this thing’s important—what’s it do?”

I’d been peppering her with questions nonstop since we started this enrollment slog—practically a walking curiosity machine.

I was half-embarrassed by it, but Bai Yu never seemed to mind. She just kept answering, steady as ever.