The next day, the classroom buzzed with a different kind of energy. Whispers floated between desks, curious eyes darted around, and every student sat a little straighter. The reason was simple: not one, but three had scored a perfect hundred in the entrance exam.
Adrian knew before anyone spoke. He had seen it in the way the teacher carried the roll, her expression sharp, rehearsed. Announcements like these were designed to set the stage.
"Three perfect scorers," she declared. "The academy acknowledges exceptional ability, and so should you."
The first name called was one already familiar.
"Adrian Veyra. Class A."
There was a murmur. A reminder. The boy with black-and-crimson hair and piercing eyes sat silently at his desk, unfazed by the attention.
"The second: Elara Dustborne. Class X."
The door opened, and silence followed. A girl walked in with the elegance of a queen descending from a throne. Her hair was silver-white, falling in waves, and her eyes were a crystalline blue that seemed to pierce the air itself. The red uniform clung to her frame like it had been designed for her alone.
"Elara Dustborne," she said softly, her voice carrying easily across the room. "It seems we'll be rivals."
Her gaze swept the class, pausing deliberately on Adrian. Their eyes met—his calm, unreadable; hers sharp, curious. The corner of her lips curled, as if she had found something amusing. Then she walked past, her presence leaving the class buzzing long after she had gone.
The third was introduced shortly after.
"Kael Richter. Class B."
If Elara carried the grace of nobility, Kael was its opposite—a storm in human form. Tall, broad-shouldered, his hair was a wild mane of dark brown, and his smirk spoke of someone who enjoyed breaking rules more than following them.
"Kael Richter," he said, his voice loud, careless. "Perfect score or not, I didn't come here to play prince. I'll crush anyone who gets in my way."
He didn't need to look at Adrian, but he did anyway. And when Adrian met his gaze with nothing but calm indifference, Damian's smirk twitched, just slightly.
Three perfect scorers. Three crowns waiting to be claimed.
Introductions ended, but the classroom didn't settle. Clusters formed during breaks, conversations sparking, new hierarchies being tested.
"Elara Dustborne… I heard her family practically owns half the northern territories."
"Kael Richter… his clan is infamous for mercenaries. Brutal ones."
"And Adrian Veyra? No one knows. He's… nothing. But he scored perfectly."
Nothing.
Adrian heard it, even when they thought he wasn't listening. He didn't correct them. He didn't need to. An unknown creates more fear than a known rival, he thought. Let them speak. Every rumor is a chain they bind themselves with.
During introductions, girls leaned closer to his desk.
"Adrian, your hair—it's natural?"
"That smile yesterday… you didn't even try, did you?"
"You should sit with us at lunch."
Adrian smiled politely, offering small replies, never giving more than necessary. Enough to keep them interested, never enough to be predictable. Each word was calculated—affectionate, but shallow. His silence was more alluring than any speech.
Marcus Albrecht, still seething from the previous day, watched the scene from across the room, his jaw tight. Every smile Adrian gave the girls only deepened the invisible wound.
During lunch, a boy named Felix—a nervous but bright student from a minor noble house—approached Adrian hesitantly.
"Veyra, do you… mind if I join you?"
Adrian glanced at him once, then motioned to the seat beside him. No words, just the faintest of smiles. Felix sat, visibly relieved.
They ate in silence for a while, but it was Adrian's silence that did the work. Felix began to talk, filling the gaps. About his family's pressure, his uncertainty about Class A, his fear of failing. Adrian nodded occasionally, his eyes distant, yet his presence warm enough to keep Felix speaking.
When Felix left, he looked lighter. "Thanks, Veyra. I… needed that."
Adrian watched him go, the faintest curve at the corner of his lips. One conversation. One thread pulled. The timid ones reveal themselves first.
That evening, the Student Council gathered again.
Elara's name was already on their table, as was Kael Richter's. But the discussion circled back, again and again, to Adrian Veyra.
"He doesn't chase attention," one council member said. "It comes to him."
"He ignores provocation," another added. "Yet he somehow makes rivals by doing nothing at all."
Julian Crane, the Student Council President, leaned back in his chair, silver eyes half-closed. "That's the danger. Evelyn flaunts her power. Damian shows his teeth. But Adrian…"
He let the silence linger, the weight of it pressing against the room.
"Adrian wears a smile. And smiles… are masks."
The council chamber dimmed with the setting sun. And somewhere in the academy, Adrian sat by his dormitory window, watching the courtyard below.
His reflection stared back at him in the glass. Black and crimson hair framing a face too calm, too composed. His lips curved into that same smile the girls adored, the one that disarmed his peers.
Behind it, his eyes burned.