At the Math Class...
The students were hunched over their desks, equations crawling across the blackboard like a hostile language. The class went on—formulas, vectors, and algebraic hieroglyphs that even the author refused to narrate in detail.
After what felt like a temporal anomaly disguised as a lecture, the bell rang. One by one, the students filed out, brains melting and notebooks packed with confused scribbles.
Niko and Lia dragged themselves into the corridor.
"Ugh... linear algebra or whatever that was," Niko mumbled.
"Same," Lia nodded, eyes glazed. She gave him a faint wave as he shuffled toward the boys' dorm.
Lia trudged her way to the girls' dorm, shoes scraping like her soul. Once she reached her room, she dropped her bag onto the bed with a dull thud and tapped it with two fingers.
"Damn, that's exhausting... You even keep up, Bell?"
From inside the bag came a muffled groan.
"Well, lucky me—I ain't got time for that," Bell muttered.
Bell flopped out of Lia's bag with a dramatic huff, then floated lazily in the air like a balloon that had lost interest in physics.
"Say... What do you think so far?" it asked.
"Me?" Lia replied, already face-first on her bed.
"Why don't you tell the boys that you've finally mastered your Lineage magic, girl? I swear, they'd be on their knees once they see your stuff!" Bell struck a sassy pose mid-air, one invisible hand on its hip.
Lia exhaled through her nose and rolled to face the wall.
"I'm not into that romantic drama. And I'm not as brave as Likka, you know... I'm a preserved queen," she said, yanking the blanket up to her shoulder.
Bell spun lazily in the air, doing a little loop.
"Well, why don't you share your feelings with Mama Bell?" it said, voice suddenly softening. "I did keep my promise not to spill anything about what happened before the semester started…"
Lia's ear twitched.
"We don't have to go that far, right?" she muttered.
The wind outside began to rattle the windows. The air thickened—dense, charged. Bell froze.
"Alright, alright, alright... I'm just joking—sheeesh," it said quickly, floating back with both hands raised in mock surrender.
The tension lifted. The breeze outside settled.
Bell rubbed its non-existent chin and sighed.
"Thought you were just regular students who found me by dumb luck. But nope—you're not as boring as you looked."
Bell shook its head, pretending to be disappointed.
Lia didn't reply. Still curled under her blanket, motionless.
"Not in the mood to talk, princess?" Bell floated closer... then blinked.
She was already fast asleep.
"Huh." It raised a brow that it didn't have.
"Well... guess that's it for today," Bell murmured. It floated back to her desk, landed gently, and settled into its disguise—as nothing more than a regular book once again.
* * *
In Lia's Dream...
She was in the common room. Everything felt… quieter. Softer. Like the world had a warm filter over it.
The dorm matron peeked in and called out,
"Ms. Vernoux? There's a call for you."
Lia blinked and stood, walking over to the wall-mounted phone. She picked up the receiver.
"Hello?"
A familiar voice snapped through the static.
"Can you come up to the gate? We're going to visit your granny. Now."
"Mooom, really? Now???" Lia groaned.
"Yes! Now! Before I get in there and drag you out of that academy!" her mother barked.
The line went dead. Lia sighed and began to get ready.
No black lipstick. No pale powder. No glam.
Just... her.
She adjusted her glasses in the mirror and stepped out.
When she reached the academy gates, there they were—her family, waiting inside a beat-up car that looked like it belonged to another decade.
Her mom rolled down the window, squinting at her.
"Really? Dyed your hair black now? What are you, a Victorian doll?" she huffed, arms crossed.
"Now, now, let her get in first," her dad said from the driver's seat, trying to ease the tension. "You two really need to take a chill pill."
Lia climbed into the back seat, and the car began to roll away from the academy gates, the tall spires fading in the rearview mirror.
Her mom twisted in her seat and looked her over.
"Let me see the mark on your collarbone."
Lia blinked, caught off guard. She hesitated, then tugged the collar of her shirt aside just enough to reveal a faint, hazy symbol. A soft circle with tiny pointed arrows branching out like sunrays.
Her mom squinted at it, then scoffed.
"You silly. That's not a sun."
She turned back around and settled into her seat.
"It's a Compass Rose, honey," her mom said, eyes still on the mark.
"Compass Rose?" Lia scratched her head.
"Yep. It's that thingy you use to figure out which way is north or south," her dad chimed in from the driver's seat. "People also call it a Wind Rose, for... whatever reason they had."
SCREECH.
The car pulled to a stop in front of a convenience store.
"Hold on, let me grab a few things before we head to Grandma's," her dad said as he got out.
THUD. The door closed.
A moment of silence passed. Then her mom turned toward her, eyes sharp and curious.
"So… who's the boy that made you like this?"
"Moooooom," Lia groaned, sinking into the seat. "We've been through this. I'm doing fine over there. Yeah, some guy tried to hit on me—but it doesn't matter." She waved the thought away like a fly.
Her mother didn't look convinced.
"What?" Lia threw her arms up. "You want me to be like all those girls chasing boys around academy? We're the Vernoux, Mom. Intelligence is our prestige." She tapped her temple with two fingers, defiant.
Her mom rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah… but listen." She reached over, gently patting Lia on the head. "You're still young, honey. I know how proud you are of our name—our creed."
She smiled, brushing a few strands of hair behind Lia's ear.
"But that doesn't mean you can't find your own way to have fun."
Lia paused—then slowly wrapped her hands around her mother's.
"I know I've been strict," her mom continued softly. "But all I ever wanted was for you to grow up strong… and smart enough to choose what's right."
Her fingers stroked Lia's hair gently.
Lia's lips curled into a tiny smile. "So… does that mean I can get a tattoo now?"
Her mother yanked her hair instantly.
"No tattoo!" she snapped, pointing a stern finger.
CLACK.
The car door opened.
"Seriously?" her dad groaned, holding up grocery bags. "I leave for five minutes and you're already at each other's throats again?"
Lia pouted and crossed her arms, turning her face toward the window with a dramatic sigh.
VROOM.
The engine rumbled back to life, and the car rolled back onto the road.
The next half hour passed in quiet. Just the steady hum of tires against wet asphalt. Trees lined both sides of the road like silent watchers, growing thicker the farther they went. The light grew dimmer—dusk creeping in under a stormy sky, painting everything in shades of dark blue.
Raindrops tapped against the windows.
Finally, the car slowed down.
They pulled into a clearing where a structure stood, half-hidden among the misty trees.
It wasn't just a cabin.
It was a chalet—wooden, two-story, with pointed eaves and carved balconies. The kind of place that felt like it belonged in some forgotten fairy tale.
The air here was colder. Thinner.
And quiet. The kind of quiet that made you listen harder, even if you didn't know what for.
* * *
CLACK.
The door creaked open as Lia's father stepped in, shaking the rain off his umbrella.
"Mom? Lia's here to visit you," he called casually.
Silence.
"Well... I guess your grandma's asleep again. With the front door unlocked. Again," he muttered, rolling his eyes.
They walked into the living room—and there she was, blanket tucked to her chin, seemingly fast asleep in the recliner.
Lia's father approached, but paused.
There was a fresh cup of tea on the side table.
Still steaming.
He tilted his head.
Then—a flash of movement.
A slim blade slid against his throat from behind.
"Who are you?" a voice hissed.
"Seriously, Mom? Again with this?" he sighed, raising his hands in surrender.
The blade pressed tighter.
"What is my last name?" the voice demanded.
"Mom. Everybody knows you're the Haylee Way. The Whispering Winds," he groaned.
"But wasn't Haylee Way declared dead years ago?" it pressed again.
"Come on, Gran-gran," Lia huffed, planting her hands on her hips. "You always pull this stuff."
Suddenly, a laugh echoed from upstairs.
"Ahahahah. If it isn't my granddaughter…"
A young woman—mid-twenties, brunette—leaned casually over the second-floor railing, wine glass in hand. She wore a flowing white robe and a mischievous smirk.
"Hello again, Mother," said Lia's mom politely, offering a slight bow.
Haylee Way nodded once in reply, eyes as sharp as ever.
Then, like a mirage—
The figure holding the blade,
The recliner,
Even the steaming cup of tea—
all vanished into thin air, like they were never there to begin with.
Haylee walked down the staircase, her fingers gently swirling the wine in her glass with a casual grace that almost felt practiced.
"What's with the wine, Gran-gran? Should you lay it off for a while?" Lia asked, sinking into the sofa near the fireplace.
"Lay it off? NEVER," Haylee scoffed dramatically, as if the suggestion had personally offended generations of her ancestors.
"Come on, Mom… be a good example for her," Lia's father chimed in with a half-smile. "The Vernoux family's been kind to both of us—especially for folks like us."
As he spoke, a faint shimmer played over his ears—elongated, pointed.
Lia raised a brow.
"Come on, Dad… that's soooooo not you with the elf ears." She grinned.
Jonathan rolled his eyes good-naturedly.
"I'll go make something from the kitchen," Lia's mother said, already heading off.
As she passed, Haylee's eyes followed her—expression unreadable, lips pressed tight.
Then she took a seat on the other sofa, near the fireplace. Jonathan followed.
"What's with your wife, Jonathan?" Haylee asked, swirling her wine again.
"She still acts like she's working here…" Haylee muttered. "By the time I told you to marry her, she should've stopped being so damn formal."
She took a slow sip.
"Mom…" Jonathan gave her a warning look, gesturing subtly toward Lia. "Really?"
"Anyway…" Haylee said suddenly, shifting the mood like turning a page.
"Let me see your mark, Lia."
Lia hesitated, then stepped forward and pulled the collar of her shirt aside, exposing the faint compass-like mark.
Haylee leaned in, inspecting it closely. Her gaze flicked from the mark… to Lia's eyes… then back again.
A beat of silence.
"…What are you doing?" Haylee asked quietly.
Lia blinked. "Wasn't I supposed to be the one asking that, Gran-gran?"
Haylee didn't smile.
"I asked you—what are you doing with the Noctis, Lia?"
The name dropped like a stone into a lake.
Jonathan stiffened, eyes widening as he sank slightly into the sofa.
"…What do you mean, Mother?" he asked, tension rising in his voice.
Haylee didn't answer him. She simply held up a single finger, signaling him to be silent.
Then, without looking away from Lia, she tapped two fingers gently against her granddaughter's cheekbone.
"I know what this is…"
Lia broke into a cold sweat.
Haylee raised her hand—and began to chant.
"RAH—SU—MON!"
POOF.
A cloud of smoke burst into the room.
And from it... Bell appeared. Floating in the air, mouth awkwardly twisted in a half-smile as it bit its lip and tried not to panic.
"…Hi…ya?" Bell said with a shaky wave, eyes darting between Haylee and Jonathan. "Heh…"
It flashed its teeth nervously.
Sweating bullets.
Haylee narrowed her eyes, arms crossing.
"Ashbell... Noctis's ultimate weapon."
She scoffed. "Long time no see, kid."
Bell shrunk back slightly, floating just above their heads.
"Heh… Hello, Haylee. Looking good, huh?" it said, forcing a nervous grin.
Haylee didn't move—just stared, arms crossed, wine untouched.
Jonathan stood up sharply, fists clenched, eyes blazing.
"You again?! I stabbed you with a blade years ago!"
Bell winced, hands raised slightly as if that could shield it.
"And—luckily—I'm still alive and well!" it said quickly, voice cracking at the end.
Just then, Lia's mother peeked into the room, a mixing bowl in hand.
"What's going on in here?" she asked, frowning at the raised voices.
She looked at the three of them—all staring blankly at the ceiling.
From her perspective, nothing floated above them.
Just her family, seemingly engaged in one of their weird traditions again.
She sighed, shook her head, and turned back toward the kitchen.
"…Back to the soup," she muttered.
* * *