Taking a breath, Kael walked over.
"Morning," he said gently.
Lyra blinked, then quickly turned toward him, almost startled. "Ah… g–good morning," she replied, her voice soft as always. She gave a small nod before lowering her eyes to the notebook again, as though she didn't know what else to say.
Kael smiled faintly and slid into the seat beside her. He didn't press her with more words, sensing she wasn't the type to open up so easily. Instead, he just got his things out, arranging the new books and notepad he'd bought earlier.
For a moment, there was only silence between them. Not heavy, but a kind of quiet that seemed to fit her presence.
Kael glanced at her notebook—she had already written the date neatly at the top of the page, her handwriting small and precise. The effort she put into even something so simple spoke volumes about her.
He hesitated, then whispered, "Thanks again for yesterday… for the notes. I don't think I said it properly."
Lyra shifted slightly, her pen pausing midair. After a moment, she shook her head. "It's… fine," she said in a low voice. "I didn't mind."
Kael chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair. "Well, I did. So… thanks. Really."
Lyra didn't answer right away. Instead, she kept her pen moving across the page, almost like she needed that action to steady herself. But Kael thought he saw the faintest curve of a smile at the corner of her lips before she lowered her head again, letting her hair shield her face.
The teacher entered then, and the class quickly shifted into focus.
The morning's science lecture passed in a steady rhythm. Kael kept his head down most of the time, scribbling what he could manage in his new notebook, but his attention often flicked toward Lyra beside him. She didn't speak much—barely at all, really—but her pen never stopped moving. She wrote cleanly, neatly, every line in her notebook almost artistic in its precision.
It struck Kael how different she was from the others in the class. While some students were chatting, whispering, or drifting off, Lyra was completely absorbed. Not because she wanted to impress anyone, Kael thought—but because this was simply who she was.
When the lecture shifted into literature, it was the same. Lyra sat quietly, always at the edges of the classroom, her seat just far enough away that people didn't naturally drift toward her. She wasn't disliked—Kael could tell that much. If anything, people seemed to respect her. But they also didn't include her, like she was someone who built invisible walls without meaning to.
Kael didn't really know why, but he found himself drawn to that. Maybe because he also wasn't used to being surrounded by others.
---
When it came time for the ancient language lecture, the students moved rooms. Lyra slipped to a corner seat again, almost automatically, as though it was the only place she ever thought to sit. Kael followed without hesitation and slid into the desk beside her.
For a brief second, Lyra looked surprised—her eyes widening just a little—but then she dropped them back to her notes, pretending not to notice.
Kael leaned back in his chair. "You always sit alone, huh?" he whispered.
She stiffened but didn't look up. "…I like it here," she said softly, the words barely carrying over the shuffle of the classroom.
Kael gave a small smile. "Guess I do too."
The rest of the class was quiet, filled with the scratching of pens and the steady voice of the teacher explaining the roots of certain symbols. Occasionally, the teacher paused to draw out long curves of script on the board, their meanings layered with history that most students only half-listened to.
Kael noticed how a few of the boys at the back were already yawning, their notebooks mostly empty. Some girls whispered to each other, exchanging stifled laughter over some joke that had nothing to do with language. The teacher's voice droned on, rising and falling like an old chant.
But Lyra didn't drift even once. Her pen moved with steady precision, tracing every symbol, her wrist curving in practiced motions as though she'd done this a hundred times before. When she tilted her head, a lock of hair slipped down her cheek, and she brushed it back absentmindedly, her expression calm, far away.
Kael watched her quietly. Why always the corner? Why always alone? It wasn't dislike. He could see the others stealing the occasional glance toward her, not with mockery, but with a strange kind of distance—as though she belonged to something apart, untouchable.
At one point, the teacher called for volunteers to read a passage aloud. Chairs scraped, students looked at each other, avoiding eye contact. Lyra lowered her head quickly, almost like she was trying to vanish, while Kael noticed the subtle stiffness in her shoulders. She didn't want to be chosen.
Kael debated raising his hand, but another student jumped in first, stumbling over the strange words. A faint laugh rolled through the back row. The teacher scolded them sharply, then returned to the passage, but Kael kept his eyes on Lyra. She hadn't laughed, hadn't smiled—just stared deeper into her notebook, as if pulling herself into that quiet world only she knew.
Kael sighed softly, leaning back. He didn't understand her yet—but part of him wanted to.
By the time lunch rolled around, Kael packed his things and headed toward the open hall where students were gathering. He was just about to sit when two figures appeared in front of him, one practically shoving a paper in his face.
"Yo! New guy!" the boy grinned, his tone way too loud for the moment. His hair was a messy chestnut, his uniform slightly undone like he couldn't be bothered to wear it properly. "You gotta sign this, yo."
Kael blinked, leaning back a little. "…What is this?"
The boy wiggled the pen in front of him. "Physical training! Daily stuff, strength building, all that. You know, prep for the Path Selection in six months, yo!"
"Finn," the girl beside him sighed, pulling the paper back a little before Kael could get annoyed. She had short, sunlit hair tied in a neat ribbon, and her smile was warm but apologetic. "Sorry about him. He gets too excited sometimes. I'm Serin. We're just making sure all the new students get signed up for the strength sessions. They're not compulsory, but… well, everyone does them."
Finn leaned closer to Kael. "Come on, yo, don't leave me hanging here. It's fun, trust me. Plus, you look like you could use it, yo."
Kael raised a brow. "…Was that supposed to be a compliment?"
Serin smacked Finn lightly on the arm. "Stop teasing. You'll scare him off." She looked back at Kael, her voice gentler. "Really, though, it's a good way to get used to the academy's rhythm. And you don't have to push yourself too hard—it's more about consistency."
Kael glanced at the paper, then back at their expectant faces. Finn was practically bouncing on his feet, while Serin waited with patient eyes. He sighed lightly, taking the pen.
"Alright. I'll join."
"Yes! Knew you'd say yes, yo!" Finn pumped his fist dramatically, almost knocking the paper out of Serin's hand.
"Finn!" Serin snapped, rolling her eyes. She gave Kael a sheepish smile. "Sorry. He's… like this all the time."
Kael chuckled, handing the pen back. "It's fine. I'll get used to it."
"You better, yo!" Finn grinned. "We're teammates now, after all."
Serin just shook her head, muttering, "Don't mind him too much."
Kael couldn't help but smile at their energy—it was different from the quiet of Lyra, or the teasing nature of Lusia. Maybe, he thought, this school wouldn't be so lonely after all.