This document contains the full English translation of the French light novel-style passage provided. The original tone, narrative style, and atmosphere have been preserved as closely as possible to match the Japanese light novel aesthetic.
At 12:15 PM, the bell still echoed through the hallways, but already, students scattered like animals kept in cages for too long. Some laughed, others ran down the corridors for no real reason.
The cafeteria slowly filled with voices, the scraping of trays, chopped-up conversations. We weren't really hungry. Not truly. But pretending was part of the role. So we headed to the lunch line.
Hemera led the way, calm. Hypnos dragged his feet behind her. Me, between the two, I listened to the ambient noise the way one watches a stormy sea: without emotion, but with caution.
The stares were there. Again. Some fleeting, others insistent. Names slipped between lips, sometimes whispered, sometimes poorly masked.
"Do you think they're normal?"
"What kind of names are those, seriously?"
"They're kinda creepy, right?"
I didn't listen to understand. Just to measure.
As we passed, conversations slowed down. An entire table fell silent at the sight of us. Two juniors pretended to look for another spot when we walked by.
We took our trays. Lined up mechanically. Lukewarm, tasteless food. Didn't matter.
Once seated at the back of the room, near the windows… no one came near us. They filled up the tables around us, sometimes squeezing six into seats meant for four. But ours stayed empty.
A table for four. Completely isolated. Like an invisible barrier.
***
At our table—the girls' table in the back—there was anything but silence. Elina flopped onto the bench next to me with her usual energy, a sigh of admiration on her lips. Her strawberry-blonde hair bounced on her shoulders, and her crystalline laugh turned heads three tables away. Classic Elina.
"Did you see them?" she whispered, eyes shining.
She didn't even need to say who. My eyes were already on them.
"Did you see the way they walk?" Elina giggled, setting her tray down. "It's like they're floating. I swear, even the teachers don't dare look at them for too long."
"Hemera… she looks like a Greek princess," I murmured.
Even the cafeteria turned into a palace with her in it.
"Yeah…" said Ayaka, chewing on a homemade onigiri. "And she knows it. That's the worst part."
She raised her almond-shaped hazel eyes toward the back of the cafeteria.
"Honestly, if she joined the student council, we'd triple memberships in a day."
"And Zoé, huh?" Elina nudged me. "You're not exactly invisible either."
"Stop it," I muttered, fake embarrassed. "It's not a competition."
"No, but if it were, you'd at least get silver," added Romanella, settling in with a huge cup of fruit juice. "Even the seniors turn their heads—and they don't even know your name."
Her voice was soft, but her words always had an edge when she got comfortable.
She crossed her legs, stretched, and the top of her uniform pulled slightly over her chest. Two boys to our left pretended to talk without looking. Poorly done.
"You've got them drooling, Romy," Ayaka teased. "Your chest should come with a warning label."
"Mmh…" Romanella sighed, fake dreamy.
She laughed loudly, as always. A clear laugh, a bit too loud, shaking her shoulders. Two boys stared too low before looking away. Elina didn't care. She kept laughing.
"Did they come from a magic school or something?" Ayaka added, eyes half-lidded, tone mocking. "Because this feels like some full-on mystical aura."
Rômanella leaned closer, voice soft:
"I'm telling you, if one of them looks my way, I'm done. Like... I surrender."
I smiled.
"Surrender what, exactly?"
She blushed slightly, then said louder:
"Honestly… if the white-haired one talks to me, he can do whatever he wants."
"Oh please, you haven't even seen his twin yet," Ayaka replied. "Hypnos? His gaze is like Premium 5-star Sleep Mode. I'd nap on his chest in a second."
And this time, I burst out laughing.
"Seriously, stop. We're sophomores, not in a fantasy harem."
Elina laughed hard. So did the others. That's how it begins. The silly fantasies, the innocent crushes, the exaggerated girl talk when you're still figuring out how to exist in a new world.
And even if they're joking… there's truth in their voices. Admiration. Fascination. Something instinctive.
Me, I kept that in mind. And kept watching. From the corner of my eye.
***
I don't really like noise. During breaks, everything blurs. The halls fill up, voices crisscross, laughter erupts from everywhere at once.
I sit in a corner. Not hidden. Just… not in the middle.
My tray is half-empty. I wasn't very hungry. I took an apple, a yogurt, and a napkin folded for no reason. Left it there. It didn't bother me.
I opened my notebook. Not to write. Just to draw a little. Simple lines. Shapes that came on their own.
The tip of my pencil glides softly. I like this silence. The one you build inside, even when everything around is too loud.
I don't look at people for long. If their eyes meet mine, I look away. Always.
But that doesn't mean I don't see them.
Zoé, for example. She shines. She speaks easily. She takes up space without ever forcing it. It's natural. And I don't mind. I like watching her when she's not looking at me.
And then there's them. The three in the back.
They barely talk. They rarely smile. But they're… present. So much so it feels like there are more of them than there really are.
The white-haired boy. He's the strangest. His eyes are too red to be human. But that's not what unsettles me. It's what he radiates. An emptiness… almost soothing. Like he expects nothing from anyone.
The girl, Hemera—I think that's her name—floats between people without bumping into them. She's beautiful. But that's not it either. It's the precision in the way she exists.
And the boy with the blue hair, Hypnos… he's elsewhere. Completely. Staring out the window like the sky's whispering to him.
I drew their silhouettes without detail. Just shadows. Three upright forms in a corner of the page.
And that was enough.
***
They watch us. All of them. Sometimes sneakily. Sometimes more boldly, thinking they're being discreet. Not because they know who we are. But because we do nothing to resemble them.
We don't talk loudly. We don't laugh at their jokes. We don't mingle.
And that's already enough to make us an anomaly.
Hypnos picks at his food without looking. Hemera drinks her water like it's part of a ritual. And me, I stay still.
Three silhouettes. Too silent for this cafeteria.
They don't know why it bothers them. They just notice.
Their gazes drift. The conversations resume, but with a different tone. Slightly tense. Slightly nervous.
It's not fear. It's what humans call instinct. And their instinct tells them: Don't sit there.
The afternoon followed the same logic as the morning:
Presence. Observation. Silence.
Three classes. A room too warm. A teacher too nervous. Students either distracted, or too focused to seem natural.
The subjects were the same as everywhere else. History and geography, math, biology. Knowledge stacked like misaligned bricks.
I listened. Without learning. Hypnos doodled in the margins, his eyes far away. Hemera took notes with clockwork precision.
No one spoke to us. Two students exchanged glances while whispering our names. Another hesitated to ask a question, then changed her mind before opening her mouth.
Zoé looked in our direction several times. Once, our eyes met. She didn't look away.
Maëlys didn't lift her head all afternoon. She drew while others wrote, as if she were only there to observe movements and translate them into lines.
The last class ended at 4:30 PM. It's the first day, so we, the sophomores, haven't chosen our clubs yet, nor even decided if we want to join one. We haven't attended the student council presentations either—Madame Laurens talked to us about all that today.
But for me, none of that matters.
For the others—the juniors and seniors—they stay at school until 6:30 PM, sometimes even 7:00.
The moment the bell rang, bodies rose in relief. Bags zipped shut with a chorus of rustling. Voices reignited all at once, like wildfire on dry ground.
We left the classroom calmly, while the crowd had already dissolved.
Not out of shyness. Out of strategy. Let the chaos pass. Don't mix with what slips through our fingers.
Hemera walked between us. Her face tilted slightly upward, eyelids open on a pale blue that shone even without light.
"The sky is still clear," she said softly. "Maybe we'll see the stars tonight."
Her voice was gentle, warm, like a promise meant for someone.
Hypnos yawned openly.
"Good. I prefer to dream under dots of light."
We crossed the courtyard, passed the gates, and walked to the bus stop. The other students already clustered in chaotic, noisy groups. None of them said a word to us.
The bus arrived at 4:55 PM.
We sat at the back, always the three of us. Hypnos by the window, Hemera in the middle, me on the aisle.
No one sat beside us. The ride lasted twenty-seven minutes. I looked out the window: buildings shrank, store signs turned into trees, and concrete faded into leaves. A crumpled poster on a bus shelter advertised a drama club: "Express who you are." I wondered what we were supposed to express.
At 5:22 PM, at the stop at the bottom of the hill, we got off without a word. We walked a few meters to reach the paved path winding through the trees to our house. Tall cypress trees lined the edges, dotted with wildflowers as if they'd invited themselves by chance. The wind danced through the branches. The shadow slowly grew.
The house awaited us at the top. A large building with one floor. Bright, simple, rooted in the earth, with a second floor for our rooms. Neither imposing nor ordinary. It overlooked the city's rooftops without arrogance. A modern acropolis, discreet, wrapped in silence. This was home.
The door was ajar, and as we entered, the hallway smelled of lavender.
And Mother was there, sitting on the armrest of the sofa, barefoot, hands on her knees.
Her midnight-blue hair fell like a dark silk curtain down to her back. Her skin was pale—like mine—and her yellow eyes seemed to follow invisible constellations.
She looked at us one by one. Her gaze lingered on me. Not intense. Just… present.
"Did you get home okay?"
Hemera was the first to approach, as if drawn by an unspoken truth. She slipped into Mother's arms with the grace of something ancient. No hesitation. Just pure love, expressed without fear.
"Yes, Mama. The school is bright."
Mother placed a gentle hand on her neck, closing the embrace softly. She shut her eyes for a second, as if to keep that warmth a little longer.
Hypnos arrived next, sprawling without ceremony into an armchair.
"Too many agitated humans. But the breeze was nice."
She gave a quiet laugh, a breath of amusement. "It's always the wind that saves you, my dreamer."
I set my bag by the stairs.
"Mother," I said simply.
She nodded with a slight smile, as always. No need for more. She knew I was neither well nor unwell. Just… in motion. She didn't come to me. She didn't avoid me either. She knew. Too much attention, and I'd shut down. Too little, and I'd sink.
Everything flowed here: the kitchen, dining room, living room. One big open space, bathed in soft light, full of pale wood, thick rugs, plants, and shelves heavy with books.
Everyone saw each other. Everything could be heard. And still, everyone had their own place.
Epiphron was already in the kitchen. Thirteen years old. Pearl-grey hair, smooth, with a soft wave at the ends. Always well-groomed, without stiffness.
He cut carrots with exaggerated focus, as if it were a sacred ritual. His blue-grey eyes gleamed with restrained energy—almost too much for his body—and it showed in every precise yet impatient motion.
Elpis, his twin sister, silently set the table. Straight sakura-pink hair, falling just below her shoulders, perfectly orderly. Her clear blue-green eyes seemed to see everything without judgment. She moved slowly, always with precision. Nothing about her was out of place—not even her calm.
"Epiphron, not diagonally this time, please," Hemera said, raising an eyebrow.
"They're dynamic cuts," he protested, not looking up.
Elpis rolled her eyes, knife in hand.
Hypnos opened cupboards like he'd never known where anything was.
"Mom, you moved the bowls, right?"
"No," Mother answered with a soft smile. "You're just looking like you've never lived here."
He shrugged.
"I'm trying to see things with fresh eyes."
Laughter. Voices. A dropped fork, a clinking glass, water boiling.
And me… I was there, in my corner, just a few meters away.
The round space on the floor was marked by a thick dark grey blanket, a large bolster, in a nearly closed circle, filled with cushions and layered throws. The opening faced the fireplace, set in a wall of dark stones. The fire danced gently.
I settled there without a word. Not to participate. Not to escape. Just to be there.
Here, voices reached me without hitting. Light brushed me without burning. They knew I didn't cook. Not because I couldn't. Because I didn't need to. And because they didn't need me to.
It was their way of unwinding. Of stitching together the day with simple motions. And I watched them in silence, body rooted in cushions, gaze lost in the fire's warmth.
Then, as always, she came. Oizys, five years old. Quiet, small thing. Mid-length, wavy hair the color of dried blood. Gray-violet eyes, deep, lost in thoughts she never voiced.
She crossed the room silently, clutching her stuffed panther. No one stopped her. No one commented.
She slipped into the circle's opening. Settled beside me. Gently. Without seeking my eyes. Her head against my arm.
And the fire before us. She didn't speak. Neither did I. We didn't need to. It wasn't silence. It was our language. And in that perfect calm, I could forget, just for a moment, what I am in the eyes of others: a presence too dense, an absence that disturbs. Here, I didn't have to disappear. I didn't have to exist.
The scent of herbs mingled with that of warm bread. Hemera had set the table while Epiphron placed the silverware in a method that leaned more toward amused chaos than order.
Elpis corrected silently, straightening a plate, moving a glass three centimeters—never complaining, always precise.
Hypnos orbited the table like a distracted cloud. He hummed an invented melody, something vaguely like a lullaby.
Mother served the dishes gently, speaking little, but every movement felt intentional.
I hadn't moved from my spot. Oizys was still against me, her panther plush squeezed tightly. The fire crackled softly. The world could stay distant for a little longer.
But then I heard Hemera's footsteps approaching.
Soft. Measured. No pressure.
She stopped at the edge of our circle. Didn't step in. Just tilted her head toward us.
"Dinner's ready."
It wasn't an order. Not a request. Just an invitation.
Oizys sat up first. She looked at me. Not to convince me. Just to see if I'd come.
I left the fire's warmth. Slowly. Without a word. And together, we joined the table. I sat down.
Oizys slipped to my right. Her plush placed on the table beside her plate, like a ritual untouched by age.
Conversations resumed, gently, as if our arrival hadn't changed anything.
"The philosophy teacher is intense, right?" asked Epiphron while cutting a potato.
"She's going to wake you up," said Mother without looking at him. "And that's a good thing."
"I like her," said Hemera. "She speaks so we'll listen, not so we'll admire her."
"And her voice is calm," added Hypnos. "That's rare."
"Do you think she knows who you are?" asked Elpis, eyes on her plate.
"No," Hemera replied. "But she sensed we're not 'normal.'"
"And the other students?"
"They don't know. They watch. They guess."
"They mostly freaked when they saw Thanatos," Hypnos said with a half-smile.
The others looked at me for a second.
I said nothing.
Oizys slowly lifted her eyes, then glanced at her plush, like a symbolic gesture.
Hemera smiled. "Maybe it's your presence. It leaves no room for lightness."
Hypnos raised his glass of water toward me, from across the table.
"To Thanatos. The silent shadow of class 2-A."
This time, I lowered my head slightly.
They laughed. Not to mock. Not to force. Just… because they were together. And that night, I was with them.
Dinner ended in a quiet that felt like gratitude.
Voices faded slowly, plates emptied without rush.
Then everyone went upstairs, one by one, in a familiar, nearly silent choreography.
I was last. Well, almost.
Oizys followed me. She clung to my sleeve, tiny fingers gripping the fabric, as if that touch alone kept her whole.
She didn't speak. Didn't need to. Her steps were slow but precise. She climbed the stairs at my pace, barely smaller than my shadow.
At the top, we faced Elpis' room, between Hemera's and Epiphron's.
To the right of the stairs: Hypnos' room. Across from him: Oizys'. Next to Oizys: Mother's. And facing hers, at the end of the hall: mine. That's where we were headed.
The door opened with a nearly imperceptible breath. The inside bathed in deep blue darkness. No direct light.
Pale blue LEDs embedded in the walls and ceiling cast a cold, silent glow. Some hung from above like frozen strands of glass.
The walls were midnight blue, almost black. The floor, covered in thick ash-grey carpet. Every step died before it began.
At the far end, perpendicular to the back wall, my bed.
Built in like an alcove. A shadow capsule, entered from the foot, like a sacred space.
Inside: thick blankets, layers of throws. Cushions in dark tones, no patterns. Comfort without distraction.
I slipped in silently, lifting the cover slightly.
Oizys climbed in after me. Asked nothing. Said nothing. Curled up against me, panther plush tight in her arms. We lay in soft darkness. Surrounded by silence.
A few minutes passed, then the door opened again. Mother entered without sound.
Her silhouette framed in the hallway light, midnight hair falling down. Her calm, golden eyes instantly found Oizys.
She approached.
"Oizys. Come, my little moon. It's time."
The little one didn't protest. Rested her head on my shoulder for a second longer, then sat up. Slipped out of bed without a word, plush in hand.
She looked at Mother, then at me. I barely nodded. She understood. Mother reached out. Oizys took her hand.
They left the room in a silence that wasn't goodbye. Just see you later.
And me, alone again, I stayed in that unlit room. The ceiling of cold stars above watched me.
And I… didn't watch back.