Class A's period had ended. Not that anyone really noticed the lesson. Not after Lucian Valemire's entrance. Not after the shameless wave at her—the Flame Queen.
Now, a group of Class A boys—honor students, noble heirs, two dueling club members, and one guy who thought dyeing his hair orange was cool—stood up in perfect sync.
This was it. They would give him the talk.
"No one talks to Nerida."
"No one stares at Nerida."
"Definitely no one waves at Nerida."
The code was sacred. It was unwritten. It was law.
They took a step forward.
But then—
She stood.
Nerida Virellia. Back straight. Shoulders squared. Red hair catching the light like wildfire. Her gaze razor-sharp.
The boys froze mid-step.
The moment she started walking, the atmosphere changed. Like someone had snapped a wand in half and the room held its breath.
She walked up to Lucian like she was lining up a fireball.
"How," she asked, calm but firm, "did you know how to finish that spell?"
Lucian stretched slowly and let out a yawn.
"Oh, nothing really. Just runic equations. Theory. A few good guesses."
He stood, brushing off his sleeve with casual flair. Then looked her in the eyes.
"I could teach you," he said with a grin. "But I'm starving. First day and all."
A beat of silence.
"Maybe we could talk this over some food?"
He smiled a little wider.
"You do know the way to the cafeteria... Flame Queen."
Her eye twitched. Her aura flared.
Then Nerida grabbed his hand.
Firm. Unapologetic.
Lucian blinked. The smile curled higher.
Before anyone could react, she turned sharply on her heel and dragged him out of the classroom like she was storming a battlefield.
The class went dead silent.
A quill hit the floor. Someone gasped like they'd been stabbed.
But it didn't stop there.
Other students in the hall saw it too.
The Flame Queen.
With a boy.
A new boy.
A scandalously attractive boy.
Holding hands.
The hallway detonated in whispers.
"She's holding his hand—!"
"She dragged him?!"
"I'm calling the dorm gossip network."
"SOMEONE DRAW THIS SCENE IN DRAMATIC INK—NOW."
A wind spirit actually paused mid-flight to stare.
Two seniors nearly collided around the corner.
Some girl's eyes glowed from clairvoyance overload.
And the boys from earlier just… stood there. Emotionally ruined.
One whispered, "We were too late…"
Lucian didn't say a word. He just walked along, dragged like a guilty prince and loving every second. His coat swayed, hair tousled, the breeze dramatic on purpose now.
And in his mind?
He was already planning lunch.
"Hope they have something spicy."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The moment Nerida and Lucian entered, the cafeteria paused.
Conversations dipped. Spoons froze midair. Even a bard in the corner missed a note.
They sat.
A clean table by the windows, bathed in warm afternoon light. For some reason, no one else dared join them. The entire Flame Queen and New Heartthrob combo had people nervous, excited—or both.
Lucian?
Unbothered.
He was tearing through his tray like a man fresh out of a dungeon crawl. Spiced rice, grilled beast cuts, some odd glowing fruit—all disappearing at terrifying speed.
Across from him, Nerida sat still, fork untouched, watching.
Does he always eat like this...?
The silence broke when Lucian suddenly stopped, wiped his mouth with a cloth, and blinked.
"Ah. Right. The spell."
He fished into his coat pocket and pulled out a white handkerchief, then a slim, ink-etched pen.
Nerida raised an eyebrow.
"...You're going to explain it now?"
Lucian gave her a lazy grin.
"Food clears the mind. Besides... you looked like you wanted it right now."
He spread the handkerchief flat between them and began to draw—precise, looping runic characters that shimmered faintly with ink touched by mana.
"You tried to construct a cascading fire-bind spell, but your third sequence was destabilizing the inner loop. See, flame spells need rotational containment—like this—otherwise they unravel when stacked."
Nerida leaned closer.
"You're using a tri-core structure instead of a central fuse?"
Lucian nodded.
"Exactly. You let the flame circulate like this... and then compress it here, so when it explodes, it doesn't waste mana outwardly. Makes it punchier... more flashy, ya know?"
His pen paused, then drew a little arrow with the word: boom.
Nerida stared at it. Then laughed. Once. Barely. Quiet.
But it was real.
"You're insane."
"Compliment accepted."
She picked up the handkerchief gently, eyes studying the symbols. Then, without thinking, she folded it once and... slid it into her pocket.
Lucian blinked.
"Uh. That was—"
"We can work on it again tomorrow."
She looked away and took a small bite of her now-cold food.
Meanwhile...
The academy was on fire—but not from magic.
"They ate together!"
"She let him talk for more than five seconds!"
"I swear she fed him—like, she picked up her fork and offered him a bite."
"AND SHE TOOK HIS HANDKERCHIEF."
"I saw it. She smiled. She actually smiled."
Rumors spread like wildfire across towers and dorms. Students recited it like prophecy, teachers whispered in lounges, and artists were already sketching dramatized reenactments.
And of course, they were bound to reach Haldric.
Blonde hair. Class C. Noble tunic a bit too fancy for his grades.
"...She what?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Night fell over Aetherion Arcanum, casting silver-blue shadows across its towers and glowing wards.
Lucian finally made it to his dorm after asking only four people and getting way too many stares in return. Some students froze mid-step, others whispered, and a few girls straight-up gasped.
"Relax," he muttered under his breath, shoving his hands in his pockets.
"It's not like I kissed the Flame Queen or something."
...Okay maybe he almost did.
The Dorm Room:
Room 17, South Wing. A space meant for the top few students in Class A—and his alone, courtesy of the Headmaster's "special consideration."
He pushed the door open to find a room that could only be described as luxuriously understated.
Cream stone walls, dark wood flooring, a small arcane lamp that glowed when he touched it. To the side, a bookshelf already filled with beginner grimoires, a small window overlooking the crystal-lit courtyard, and a writing desk with an enchanted ink quill that wiggled when it noticed him.
"Weirdly cozy…"
He kicked off his shoes and went straight for the bath chamber—a clean marble space with enchanted faucets and a mirror that, weirdly enough, winked at him.
He rolled his eyes.
"Academy mirrors are flirts. Got it."
Warm water poured over his back, steam rising in gentle clouds. Lucian tilted his head up and closed his eyes.
That's when the thoughts started coming in.
Reflections.
Money.
He had none.
Ellie forgot to leave him coin. That drunken genius.
He wasn't going to beg. Which left him with a few options.
He could apply for a teaching assistant...but come on
Or maybe with his good looks he could be a male p—
Are you stupid?
So then, it left him with one...
Dungeon clearing.
Even novice-tier ones paid decently. But he'd need equipment. Robes, a weapon, protective glyphs, potions. He'd need to prep smart—and move smarter.
And he would need knowledge.
"Library first."
It was Monday. Weekends were open for off-campus activity and he'll need time for research and preparation
"I've got about a week and five days."
He left the bathroom, towel-drying his hair and flopping onto the soft bed. The mattress practically hugged him.
His muscles ached. His mana pathways still felt warm, like something had been unlocked and used again and again. That spell at the end—Break the Script—he could still feel the echo of it in his hands.
"Yeah... That was fun."
Sleep came.
But dreams came faster.
At first—the forest. The corpses. The scent of burning blood and crushed bark. He stood there, watching the bandits he'd slain—some still twitching in his memories.
His heart didn't race. His pulse didn't spike.
"They were going to kill me. Or worse."
No guilt. Just clarity.
Cold. Calm. Honest.
Then the scene shifted.
A familiar voice echoed.
"Lucian... stop spacing out and eat your vegetables."
He turned.
Ellie.
Legs on a desk, arms crossed, grinning at him over a steaming bowl of soup. Her glasses were tilted. A bottle of wine sat dangerously close to her elbow.
He chuckled in his sleep.
"Figures."
But then... something strange.
The scene faded again. And there, just barely lit by the stars, standing barefoot in the grass—
Erza.
She looked up at him.
Soft-eyed. Silent.
And then she smiled. Just a little.
"You said you'd wait."
Lucian opened his mouth to speak, but the wind carried her away like dust in moonlight.
He woke up.
The moonlight painted silver bars across the floor.
His hand was resting lightly over his chest.
Lucian exhaled. Slowly.
"Tch... Don't go popping into my dreams now, Erza."