The moment I looked down at the strange little ring on my desk, I knew it wasn't supposed to exist.
It was just a casual mistake—an idle moment where I played with coils of copper wire, iron filings, and some excess power from a battery cell. The sort of thing I'd usually toss into a scrap box. But instead of behaving like normal material, the ring was… floating.
Not much. Barely a centimeter. More like a lazy, twitchy wobble above the desk's metal surface.
Still, it hovered.
And that was the problem.
I stared at it silently, narrowing my eyes, my chin propped against my hand.
"…That's not… right," I muttered.
The principle was simple enough. Electromagnetism. The copper coil carried current, generating a magnetic field. The iron ring acted as a guide for the flux, and the arrangement of opposite poles repelled each other. That explained the float. At least, it should have been unstable, toppling instantly without careful control. But the way the fields overlapped, the little ring managed to cling to its wobbly balance.
In layman's words: I'd made a cheap little "floaty ring" toy by accident.
I sighed and flicked it with my finger. The ring jittered, bounced, and stubbornly floated again.
"…Cute," I muttered flatly, though my lips twitched almost into a smile.
For any other student, this would've been miraculous. "Oh wow, I invented levitation!" But for me? It was just physics doing something mildly annoying.
I reached for the trash bin. "I'll just throw it away."
But then I stopped.
My eyes lingered on the shimmering outline of the floating metal. The faint hum of the magnetic field buzzed softly in my ears, like static, like a whisper only I could hear.
And a ridiculous thought bloomed in my brain.
"…What if I made it… bigger?"
The whisper grew louder, as though daring me.
What if I scaled this up? Strengthened the field. Balanced the weight. Added layers. Could I… create a halo?
An angel's halo.
Floating above my head.
I covered my mouth and stared at the small ring. "…Ridiculous."
But my fingers had already reached for a larger coil.
The Lab Experiment
Hours passed in silence. The hum of machines. The scratch of tools. My pen scribbling equations on scrap paper.
I wound larger copper coils, reinforced the iron ring, attached battery nodes, and layered sheets of lightweight aluminum to keep the mass reasonable. Each time, I tried to float it, only for it to tilt and crash down with a heavy clunk.
"Too heavy," I muttered, tugging at my hair. "The magnetic lift is inversely proportional to distance. Field strength isn't enough. And…"
I scribbled harder.
Equation after equation filled the page, none giving me a solution that didn't involve exponential energy consumption.
Six hours later, my desk looked like a battlefield. Scattered wire. Melted resin. A few broken coils. And in the middle:
A halo-shaped prototype ring, about the size of a dinner plate. It floated—just barely—maybe five millimeters above the iron plate. Its hum was deeper, a faint vibration in the air.
I crouched, staring at it with a faint scowl.
"Congratulations, Reina. You made a dinner plate hover half a centimeter."
I leaned back, exhausted. "…Utterly useless."
Still, I couldn't look away.
It was mesmerizing—the faint golden sheen of copper, the trembling float, the magnetic hum brushing my skin like static.
I reached out slowly and touched it with one finger. The faint buzz shot up my hand, tingling through my nerves.
"Ah…" I gasped quietly.
Addictive. Like sipping something fizzy. My chest loosened. My headache eased. The tension in my shoulders melted away.
It wasn't just science anymore. This hum… it was comfort.
My lips pressed together. Dangerous thought. But…
"…What if I made it float above me?"
I imagined it. A shimmering halo hovering above my head. Ridiculous. Blasphemous. But strangely alluring.
I tapped my pen against my temple. To achieve it, I'd need a stabilizing chip. Perhaps a propulsion core. A hidden magnet implant. Not literally inside my skull—but maybe tucked beneath my hair. Something subtle.
"…Impossible. Dangerous. Beyond human limits."
Yet I found myself scribbling ideas anyway.
Minutes slipped into another hour. I adjusted equations, shaved off unnecessary weight, added balance points. Nothing practical yet. But enough to convince me I was close.
The hum whispered again. "Closer."
I closed my eyes, inhaled. "…Enough. Enough for today."
The halo wobbled faintly in front of me, glowing like a tired ember. I carefully slid it into a drawer, scribbled Prototype Angel I on a scrap label, and taped it to the wood.
The drawer closed with a soft click.
I stood, stretched, and sighed. "…I'm going insane."
I turned off the lights and left my lab.
POV Shift — Himari
The hallway was dark when I arrived. My footsteps echoed nervously.
"I wonder if Reina-san is still here…" I murmured, hugging my bag.
She had been gone for three days, and even though we'd spent the entire camping trip together, somehow, I… missed her.
Her lab door stood slightly ajar. The faintest trace of metallic hum tickled my ears.
"…Reina-san?" I called softly. No answer.
I peeked inside.
Empty.
The room smelled faintly of copper, resin, and—somehow—Reina.
I pouted, scratching my cheek. "Figures… she's already gone home."
I stepped in anyway, tidied a few loose tools she'd left scattered, then turned to leave. My hand rested on the doorknob.
That's when I saw it.
A drawer. Slightly open.
Normally, I wouldn't snoop. Really, I wouldn't! But curiosity tugged at me.
I leaned down. A small scrap of paper taped to the wood. The words scrawled in Reina's neat handwriting:
Prototype Angel I
"…Angel?" I whispered.
My curiosity doubled. Slowly, guiltily, I slid the drawer open.
And froze.
Inside was… a giant ring. Thick coils of copper. Gleaming metal. A faint hum, like static before lightning.
"…Is that a… halo?"
My brain stopped working.
Reina Saeki, the genius, the untouchable, the ice queen of our academy… had built a giant floating angel's halo.
I slammed the drawer shut, face red. "Nope. Nope nope nope. Didn't see anything."
I locked the lab quickly, my hands shaking, and ran out into the night.
As I jogged home, my thoughts screamed.
What in the world is she even doing?! Building angel halos?! Does she want to become divine now?!
But despite the panic, my lips twitched into a small smile.
"…That's so… Reina-san."