Riku stepped into his assigned room, the door swinging shut behind him with a soft click. It was grand—vaulted ceiling, dark polished wood, tall windows draped in silk—but the opulence didn't move him. For all its beauty, it still paled in comparison to the chambers he'd left behind. At home, everything had been custom-made for him. The furniture was imported from the finest craftsmen across the empire. Here, it was all just... nice.
He set down his briefcase beside the writing desk and unhooked his sword, hanging it carefully on the metal peg driven into the wall. The blade didn't look like much in the soft lamplight.
He opened the top drawer of the desk and slipped the envelope inside without a second thought.
Instead, he turned, walked to the bed, and collapsed face-first onto the mattress. It was firmer than expected, with soft, fresh-smelling linens. He lay there for a while, face buried in the pillow, letting the silence wrap around him like a blanket.
Then he rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, thoughts slowly surfacing.
'So this is it,' he thought. 'This is where it all begins.'
He reached a hand toward the ceiling as if trying to touch something just out of reach.
His thoughts wandered to the path that brought him here.
'I'm starting from scratch,' he realized. 'No backup. No second chances.'
A dry laugh escaped him, sharp and humorless.
'What am I even doing here?'
Now, lying alone in this immaculate room, surrounded by silence, it finally hit him: this was going to be a lot harder than he'd anticipated.
'These kids… they're not normal.'
He thought back to the lounge. The others had all carried themselves with quiet confidence. Nobles, most of them—he could tell by the way they spoke, the way they sat, like they owned the room. Their clothes bore emblems of old houses. Their posture screamed military training, etiquette, legacy.
From what he'd heard, the majority of students at the Academy came from the highest tiers of the empire. Sons and daughters of the Imperial Houses. Very rich and influencial nobles. Some were direct descendants of the emperor himself.
And every single one of them had trained for this since they could walk.
Riku, on the other hand?
He was just some kid smuggled through the back door.
He had no knowledge of Sage Art. None. Not even a basic understanding. Everything the Headmaster had said during the speech—about unseen patterns and natural logic—it might as well have been another language. Everyone else had at least some familiarity, even if they'd only touched the surface. Riku was the anomaly. The outlier. He might actually be the only one here completely unfamiliar with Sage Art.
'That's going to go well tomorrow,' he thought bitterly.
His eyes drifted toward his sword on the wall.
Tomorrow's ranking exam would be the real test. Something inside him stirred. Not dread.
Excitement.
He'd been trained well, even without tapping into his power. His swordsmanship had been forged in real-world conditions—battlefields, not training halls. His instincts were sharp. His reflexes honed.
He was here to learn Sage Art.
To gather intel.
To complete a mission most didn't even know existed.
'Still... it'd be nice not to get flattened on day one.'
His mind drifted again—to Daz. The boy had something odd about him. That grin, that sparkle in his eyes—he wasn't just another rich kid with a good tailor. There was calculation behind that smile. A playfulness laced with sharp edges. And the way he dodged questions...
Riku made another mental note.
'Don't trust him. Actually don't trust anyone.'
He ran a hand through his hair and sighed.
So many pieces were already in motion. The students. The Academy. The headmaster. Sage Art. Rage Art. Hane Lucaris.
That name echoed again in his mind.
Two philosophies. Two arts. Two founders.
Two brothers.
'So what does that make me?' he wondered.
'Caught in the middle of a war of ideas? A spy? A weapon? Or maybe just a pawn.'
His breathing slowed. The tension in his chest eased slightly.
He'd figure it out.
He had to.
With that final thought, he let sleep take him—mind racing, heart steady, as the moon rose quietly outside the tall windows.