I had never worn a school uniform before. Not one with pleats and school colors and a regulation-stitched badge. Master had said it would feel different—and it did.
"Following Master's instructions, I entered Kairova Academy—a name that meant 'a place for destined change.'"
This was my first time attending an actual school. Until now, Master had taught me everything at home.
By the time I arrived, the first term was already over, so I had to take the transfer student exam. I'd heard rumors about it before coming—how difficult it was, how even the best students often failed. They said it was impossible. I was nervous at first. My hands were slightly cold, and my breathing uneven. But when I saw the test itself, I felt calm return to me.
It was not easy—but it was familiar. These were the kinds of questions Master had taught me to solve years ago. To others, it might have felt like a mountain. To me, it was like walking through a garden path I'd already memorised.
Somehow, I ended up scoring a perfect mark. The teachers were surprised. I didn't understand why—it had simply been a test.
They even awarded me a scholarship. When I met with the principal, I explained my situation, just as Master had instructed. he listened carefully. After some discussion, he agreed to place me in Class 1-A.
Even though I had come here to carry out Master's mission… I was nervous.
This was not a home lesson. This was a school.
With real students.
With noise and windows and footsteps echoing down polished floors.
I had read about these things.
But reading about something is not the same as being in it.
The hallways were bright. Too bright.
The chatter of students—so casual, so full of emotion—felt like a language I had only partially learned.
Even the chairs looked strange to me. Too many at once. Too small to carry the weight of so many lives.
As the homeroom teacher instructed, I stood quietly just outside the classroom door, waiting for her to call me in. My heart was loud. My hands clenched at my sides.
Then I heard it.She called me.
I took a breath.
Gathered courage to my feet.
And stepped inside.
***
The door slid open with a soft hiss, and I stepped inside.
The first thing I noticed was the light.
Not just from the windows—though the sunlight did pour in at an angle that cast sharp shadows across the smooth floor—but from the faint blue glow of the interface panels embedded into every desk. Lines of light pulsed gently across the walls, syncing with the school's network rhythm.
A classroom.
A real one.
So this is what it looks like.
My shoes made the slightest noise as I walked, the soles tapping once, then again. Rows of desks. Neatly arranged. Clean. Every chair identical, every student aligned like data in a table. Yet no two faces looked the same.
So many people, all in one place. All looking at me.
I heard the quiet hum of projectors built into the ceiling. The soft crackle of a stylus against smart-glass. The faint shift of uniforms as students adjusted in their seats. These sounds were ordinary here. But not to me.
I had studied in silence all my life. With only one teacher, one voice, and a desk built for one.
Now, the room was alive.
The homeroom teacher stood at the front. She was tall and composed, her voice cutting through the air like a polished beam of light. She gestured toward me with a small nod.
"Introduce yourself," she said.
I faced the class. Thirty-nine students. Their names already stored in my memory. Their faces, not yet.
"Hello, I'm Ozaka Aelvar, "I said, clearly, just as Master had taught me. "nice to meet you "
Some of them whispered to each other.
"She's the new one, right?"
"The scholarship girl."
"From homeschooling?"
"I heard she aced the transfer exam. Full marks."
I wasn't sure what I was meant to do with their words. They didn't sound unkind, but they were… unpredictable. Casual. Fast.
I scanned the room.
My eyes moved from face to face, searching. I wasn't sure why I wanted to find her so badly—I only knew I needed to. She was the reason I was here. The person Master had told me to watch.
She is the person – I need to find her to complete my mission
The teacher spoke, explaining the school's regulations, dorm protocols, and basic expectations. I listened with half an ear. Master had already covered most of it in our preparation sessions. I tried not to appear too distracted as I scanned each row. Everyone was in uniform. Everyone was seated. Everyone looked ordinary.
None of it mattered more than finding her.
Row by row, I looked.
Not her.
Not her.
Not him.
Then—
There.
She wasn't at the center. It was the very back of class.
Her hair was short—cropped very short, slightly tousled, like she'd forgotten or chosen not to style it. The strands were dark at first glance, but as the sunlight caught the edges, I saw it—deep reddish tones layered underneath. Faint. Subtle. The kind of color you wouldn't notice unless you were really looking.
She sat still.
Not stiff. Not relaxed. Just... still.
Her figure was slim, her frame androgynous. I heard someone in the hallway earlier mistake her for a first-year boy. Her skin had a faint pallor to it, like she hadn't seen sunlight in a while. Or maybe she had, but didn't care enough to show it.
And her face…
Expressionless.
Not blank, not cold.
But somehow, she was still smiling.
But I noticed one thing.
Her eyes didn't flicker like the others when they whispered or shifted in their seats.
She just watched. Quiet. Present. Untouched.
From the front, her expression could be mistaken for calm. Even kind.
Her eyes even seemed a little cheerful—like she was listening, like she was getting along with the others.
But when I looked closely—really looked—
I saw something else beneath it.
A kind of stillness.
A depth that didn't match the rest of her face.
Those eyes…
I'd only seen eyes like that once before.
They were the same as Master's.
The same as when Master came out of the hidden room.
The one even I wasn't allowed to enter.
Whatever was behind that door—
It left something behind in Master's eyes.
That same silence. That same weight.
And now… I saw it again.
Right there, on her.
I knew it had to be her.
I wanted to keep looking at her, but the teacher cleared her throat—and I quickly turned my head back to the front.
"Okay, now class," the teacher said, her voice warm and practiced, "let's make sure to treat her well. Ozaka, you can sit next to Kensi."
Kensi.
That was her .
I nodded once, politely, and made my way between the rows. The light from the windows flickered past me in soft patterns. I walked slowly, not because I was unsure where to sit, but because I wanted… to look at her again. Just for a moment.
She didn't move as I approached.
Didn't lift her eyes.
Didn't even shift in her chair.
Her stillness was the kind that made me quiet too.
I sat down beside her—carefully, as if the desk might make a sound I wasn't allowed to make.
She was just inches away now.
Up close, her features were clearer. Her skin was smooth and pale, her posture rigid, like she was being held upright by something invisible. Her uniform was crisp. Neat. Almost too neat.
I tried to glance at her—just to offer the smallest smile.
But right as I turned—
She looked away.
Subtle. Immediate. Like a reflex.
And just for the briefest moment, as her head turned, the light caught her eyes.
A faint flicker of red.
Not in her hair this time.
In her eyes.
Barely there. Faint. But I saw it.
It reminded me of the master.—something hidden beneath a polished surface.
Gone before you could name it.
But real.
She didn't speak.
So I didn't either.
I just sat beside her.
Quiet.
Trying to understand.
***
Once Mrs. Hasuki wrapped up her class, she gave a short reminder about the next subject—robotics—and walked out with practiced ease, leaving us to gather our things. The others began moving around quickly, but I lingered, adjusting the clasp on my bag and reviewing the schedule in my mind.
I turned toward the girl seated beside me.
Kensi.
She hadn't said much during class. Hardly anything, in fact. But she had responded when I was introduced—formally, clearly. That was something.
I stepped a little closer and said, "Hello Kensi, nice to meet you."
She glanced at me and returned the greeting, just as formally.
"Hello, nice meet you too, Ozaka."
Her tone was brief. Not rude—just… closed. Like a door gently clicked shut. But I had read that friendships began with small exchanges, and I thought perhaps I was doing this part right.
I stayed there, waiting. It seemed polite to speak again—wasn't that what people did? Continue the conversation?
So I tried.
"By the way, I heard that—"
But before I could finish, she cut in. Not aggressively. Just quickly. Talking about the lab. The robotics lab.
I blinked.
She was explaining where it was located, giving me instructions on which floor and which wing. Her voice didn't pause. She just kept going. I opened my mouth once more, thinking maybe I could try again.
But the opportunity disappeared beneath her words.
I wasn't sure what I had done wrong. Was I too forward? Too slow?
I stayed quiet.I listened.
And I watched her—her body was angled just slightly away from me, her eyes avoiding mine. Her tone was casual, but it felt practiced. Like she was trying to keep something between us firmly in place.
It reminded me of how Master acted after returning from the inner room—. Calm. Smiling, sometimes. But always distant, as if something heavy had followed them back into the world.
Before I could ask anything else, some students came up to my desk. They were energetic—talkative, curious. Asking about the exam, where I came from, what I liked. I didn't have time to answer everything. But I tried.
And then—out of the corner of my eye—I saw her moving toward the door.
Quiet. Intent.
She was trying to leave.
I didn't think. I just acted.
I reached out gently and caught her hand. Her fingers froze in mine.
"You don't need to act," I whispered.
It was meant to be kind.
A reassurance. The kind Master once gave me, long ago, when I used to struggle with emotion during lessons.
But the moment I said it—I saw her stiffen.
She didn't look back.
And in the next second, she slipped into the hallway, disappearing like a thread pulled from fabric.
I stood there, uncertain.
Had I said it wrong?
Did I misread the moment?
I thought I'd done something good
As I sat down in the lab, I found myself replaying the interaction over and over in my mind.
I didn't think I had done anything wrong.I was polite. I introduced myself properly. I even tried to express something… kind.
But something about it hadn't landed. She had deflected so quickly—redirected the conversation with precision, like someone used to keeping walls up. Like she'd practiced it before.And that last look she gave me as she left… it wasn't one of anger.It was distance.Like I had stood too close to something I couldn't see.
I rested my chin on my palm, watching the small blue lights on the robotics interface flicker. Our instructor was giving a demonstration, showing us how to makes codes for robots. I took notes. Responded when asked. But part of me was still turned toward her.
I remembered the way Master once mentioned her past . Briefly. But I think that was the thing -I can use that -yah sometimes, all it takes is a shared secret. A single point of understanding. That's how friendships begin in most stories, right?
A common thread.
Or a hidden one.
I wasn't supposed to bring it up. Not directly.
But maybe… if I let her know that I knew something, then she wouldn't feel so alone.
I've read that in stories, too. Sometimes, characters connect when they realize they're both hiding something. When they both carry pieces no one else sees.
Maybe that's how it will work.
Maybe she just needs time.
I glanced to the side, hoping to catch her expression again, to see if maybe she looked different now.
But the seat beside me was empty.
I blinked. Looked again.
She hadn't returned after the robotics groups were dismissed. Everyone else had filed out, chatting and comparing results. I'd expected her to return, but she hadn't. Maybe she had another class. Or maybe she left early.
Or maybe she was still in the lab.
I waited a little longer. Just in case.
But time ticked by and my stomach made a quiet sound. Right. I hadn't eaten since this morning. It wasn't painful—just… present. A reminder.
Cafeteria.
I stood and began walking toward it, my thoughts still circling. I would give her time. And then maybe… maybe next time I spoke, I could try again.
This time, I would get it right.
I just had to find the right part of the story to start from.
***
The cafeteria was loud. Brighter than the classrooms. No lines of desks. No neat columns. Just color, motion, scent—so many voices overlapping that the air itself felt messy.
I didn't like messy.
But I had memorized the layout earlier. Where the lines started. Where the trays were kept. How the tables were arranged. I knew where the exits were. I had studied it like a map before coming. Still, none of that prepared me for how loud it felt inside my head.
But then I saw her.
She stood near the food counter, tray in hand, alone. Her figure still and unreadable, even in the swarm of people. A single thread in a tangled tapestry.
Kensi.
It was a chance. A quiet opportunity.
This time, I wouldn't misstep.
I didn't try to start a conversation the way I'd practiced. No formal greetings. No awkward timing. Just words—direct, clear. The kind of words I would have wanted to hear once, too.
"I know your past."
I kept my voice low. Gentle.
I meant:
I understand.I know what happened. And you don't have to hide it anymore.
I thought maybe she would turn. Maybe meet my eyes. Maybe even say something—anything.
But she didn't move. Not even a flinch.
She didn't acknowledge me at all.
That was… unexpected.
I thought maybe I spoke too quietly, so I took a breath to try again—perhaps clarify what I meant. But before I could even begin—
She turned.Not slowly. Not quickly. Just—turned. Away from me. Like I wasn't even there.And walked off.I stood there for a moment. Holding the tray I hadn't even filled yet.
My chest felt… tight. Not painfully. Just… unfamiliar. —not with anger, but with silence. With disappointment I didn't know how to fix.
Maybe she didn't understand.
Maybe I said it wrong.
Maybe I tried too soon.
That was okay.
She was not easy to talk to.
But I didn't mind.
Some things just take time.
And I still wanted to keep trying.
That she'd realize she didn't have to keep up this invisible wall.
But she didn't say anything. She didn't even look at me.
Strange. Maybe she just wasn't in the mood to talk.
Before I could continue, she turned away and left.
I sighed. Well, she wasn't the easiest person to talk to, but that was fine. I wasn't going to give up.
***
After lunch, a teacher came to find me. She said the principal wanted to see me. At first, I thought maybe I'd done something wrong—I tried to remember if I'd said anything strange in robotics. Or maybe… my uniform wasn't straight? But no. It was something else.
I followed her to the office. The hallways felt quieter than usual—less students moving around. Maybe everyone was still eating.
The principal's office was big. Neat. There were real paper books on the shelves. The walls smelled like lemon polish and air-conditioning. He smiled when I entered.
"Just the final transfer paperwork," he said.
Ah. Right.
I nodded and sat down in the proper position—legs together, back straight, hands folded like Master taught me. The principal reviewed a few forms, asked me if I understood the school rules, and reminded me to stay caught up with classwork. I answered everything clearly.
Then—he said it.
"We've assigned your dorm room. You'll be sharing it with Kensi Ryker, your classmate in 1-A."
I blinked.
Wait—
What?
Did he just say—
KENSI?!
My heart actually skipped. I felt it! It was like something jumped in my chest. Not bad. Just… weird. Exciting.
I get to live with her?!
In the same room?!
My face felt warm, and I tried really hard not to smile too big. But it snuck out anyway.
"Yes!" I said a little too loud. "I mean—yes. I understand. Thank you very much."
The principal raised an eyebrow. I straightened immediately. "I mean—I will do my best."
But inside, I was bouncing.
***
When I came back to class, the room was still half-full. Some students hadn't returned yet from the history lesson. I walked quickly to my seat, my bag thumping against my side. I looked around immediately, searching for her.
Kensi.
When I came back to class, the room was still half-full. Some students hadn't returned yet. I walked quickly to my seat, my bag thumping against my side. I looked around immediately, searching for her.
Kensi.
I wanted to tell her. Not just about the dorm thing—but that I didn't mean to scare her earlier. I just… I didn't say it right. I could explain now.
But…
She wasn't there.
I looked around again. Checked the back corner. Her seat was empty. I even checked the hallway through the window in the door.
Nothing.
Where did she go?
Maybe she was in the library ? or the lab?
That was okay.
I would see her tonight.
In our room!
Our room.
I repeated it in my head over and over.
Our room.
Our room.
I was so happy I couldn't sit still. I kept tapping my fingers on my desk and swinging my foot under the chair. Saana gave me a weird look. I tried to look normal.
But in my head—
I was counting the hours.
No—minutes.
Okay, no—fingers.
How long until dorm meeting?
How long until I could see her again?
This time, I wouldn't mess up.
This time, I'd say it right.
And maybe—just maybe—she'd smile back.
***
The hallway was too warm. Or maybe I was just thinking too much.
I stood just outside the dorm common room, surrounded by unfamiliar girls with familiar uniforms. Their voices overlapped in the air—casual, joking, loud in a way I hadn't fully prepared for. I had reviewed the protocol for dorm life twice. Memorized it, actually. But no file could prepare me for the part where someone laughed and three others laughed with them, perfectly synced, like a reflex.
I stayed quiet. I wasn't sure when I was supposed to enter. No one had told me the social procedure for dorm introductions. Should I knock? Announce myself?
Before I could calculate the right move, the dorm head—Mrs. Reika, I think—called my name.
"Ozaka Aelvar, right? Come on in."
I did.
The girls looked up. Some with curiosity, some with disinterest, some with that same fast-whisper tone I still hadn't learned to decipher.
"She's the new transfer?"
"Full marks on the exam?"
I didn't respond. Their words didn't seem like they needed answers. Just... floating commentary.
Mrs. Reika gestured toward the center of the room. "This is Ozaka Aelvar, your new dormmate. She'll be staying in Room 3-F. With Kensi Ryker."
My heart moved strangely. Not fast. Not slow. Just... irregular. Like a skipped frame in a simulation.
Room 3-F.
With her.
I glanced to the side—toward where Kensi sat near the edge of the group. Her expression was unreadable. Blank. But not empty.
She looked at me, but it felt like she was looking past me. Like I was just a shape in the room.
Then her face changed—only slightly. I thought I saw something in her eyes. Not surprise. Not relief. Something tighter. Closed-off. Like a window slammed shut from the inside.
I tried to smile. Not too wide. Just enough to acknowledge her.
But she stood up—abruptly. Too fast.
And then—
She collapsed.
The moment slowed.
The others gasped. Someone stood. Mrs. Reika moved quickly. I stood still.
Kensi had fallen sideways, her body folding in on itself like a paper model. One girl knelt beside her, checking her forehead.
"She's burning up!"
"Did anyone know she was sick?!"
"She saiyed she was fine—"
My feet moved before I told them to. I crossed the space between us and crouched beside her, watching her face twitch in her fevered state.
I didn't understand. Not completely. But I felt something pull at me.
Not pity. Not confusion.
Just…that familiarity .
***
Later, when the meeting dispersed and Kensi was helped into our room, I followed silently. The dorm lights dimmed behind us. Footsteps faded down the hall.
She lay still now. In bed. Her breath shallow and uneven. Her hair stuck to her forehead.
I stood in the center of the room—our room. The walls felt too bare. The ceiling too low. I hadn't expected this to be our first night.
I didn't know what to do.
I didn't unpack. I didn't make noise. I just… sat.
Carefully. Quietly.
I thought maybe she was asleep. Or pretending. I didn't want to disturb her.
So I stayed on my side of the room. Back straight. Hands in my lap. Like Master taught me.
But the silence made something ache. I didn't know where. Just somewhere under my ribs.
After a long time, I whispered:
"If you had a fever, why did you come?
She didn't respond.
Not even a breath.
It felt like she was having a nightmare -
"No matter what they did to you, you don't deserve it".-
words came out of my mouth. Even I didn't knew why I said it -but it felt right
I looked at her one more time. Her face, pale and turned toward the wall.
And I thought—
Maybe tomorrow, she'll speak.
Just once.
That would be enough.
***
When Kensi's friends arrived, I stepped out.
I didn't ask her if she wanted me to go. I didn't need to. The moment I heard the knock—one of the girls joking, the other holding something in a cup—I understood. This was not a moment for me.
I closed the door behind me gently and let the hallway swallow my presence. I didn't even hear her voice through the walls. Only theirs. Bright, laughing, casual. Like warmth inside a room I didn't belong to yet.
That was okay.
She deserved moments like that.I decided to head to the library.The corridors were quieter than earlier, the late hour casting long shadows across the polished floor. My shoes made a soft, solitary rhythm as I walked—like code being written with each step.
The library doors opened with a soft hiss. Inside, the light was cooler—soft blues and whites glowing from shelves and embedded panels. This was familiar. This was safe. The data terminals. The silence. The order.
But even here, I couldn't stop thinking about her.
I settled into a seat tucked into the back corner, where the light pooled gently on the desk like a spotlight with no audience. I opened the school interface. Not to review lessons. Not yet.
Instead, I pulled up her file.
Kensi Ryker.
There was only so much I was allowed to see. GPA. Transfer history. Academic performance. Behavioral logs—blank, which felt almost more suspicious than not.
No mention of… anything, really.But her face was there. ID photo. Still. Polished. Empty.Not the same as the one I saw collapse in our dorm room.
I leaned back in my chair, eyes locked on the glowing screen as the light flickered across my face. My thoughts drifted in slow, looping orbits—restless, unanswered.
What happened?
Why is she like that?
Did I say something that upset her?
Is there something she's hiding—something I don't know?
Why didn't Master tell me?
She had prepared me for everything—how to speak, how to observe, how to "integrate," even how to correct people gently without pushing them away.
But she never told me that Kensi might have...
I slapped both hands against my face, hard.
No. No—don't think. Don't assume.
I just have to observe her. That's all. Just watch.
***
About two days passed. She recovered.
This time, I decided to do nothing.
Just watch.
No talking. No suggestions. No helping unless she asked.
Then—she came up to me.
Just a few steps. Just close enough.
She gave me a polite "Thank you."
Then quietly returned to her usual routine, like nothing had changed.
But for the first time…
She approached me. Me!
I wanted to jump. I wanted to grin so wide my face might break.
It felt like something bubbled up inside me—light and warm and too big to hold still.
Like the whole world had tilted just a little in my favor.
I was happy. Really happy.
***
Days passed.
I could see it—she still had a barrier around her. Even when she was with her closest friends, Monaka and Saana. She made it look normal, like nothing was wrong. Laughing, nodding, talking at the right times.
But when she was near me, it felt like there were a thousand more walls between us.
To others, every interaction seemed ordinary. But to me, it was like walking blindly through fog—every step unsure, every word uncertain.
That's when I realized—my way wasn't working.
She's not someone who opens her heart easily.
"Do as instructed."
Master's voice echoed in my mind like a system command.
I know. I know.
But it felt so—unfair.
...Maybe that's the only way.
Okay then.
I decided to follow Master's instructions.
The hard way.
***