Darian stood before the door of his dorm.
Room 42 , Floor 2 of East wing was assigned to him.
"Room of two..... so that means.." he let out a quiet sigh "..a roommate".
The door creaked as Darian pushed it open.
Inside, the room was plain but tidy—two beds, two desks, a tall window spilling light across the polished floor.
One bed was already claimed. A young man sat upright against the headboard, a thick book resting open on his lap. Notes were arranged in meticulous stacks on the desk beside him, every page covered in sharp, deliberate handwriting.
He looked up when Darian entered. A pair of thin-rimmed glasses caught the light, framing eyes that were dark, observant, and far too focused for idle curiosity.
For a heartbeat, the two simply stared at each other.
Darian, with his blade at his hip and a satchel in hand.
The other, with a pen and book in hands, his presence quiet but exact.
His clothing were plain, lacking crests of nobility that other nobles showed off. His physique smaller than Darian's. Dark brown was the color reflected when the sun's rays touched his hair
Darian closed the door behind him and crossed the room. He set his satchel down on the empty bed without a word, but when he looked up, Kaelric's gaze hadn't shifted.
Their eyes locked again. Neither moved. Neither blinked.
Darian broke the silence first.
"Im..Count Darian of Redmond"
The young man nodded
"So you're the Cursed Count that I hear of ... the one without mana"
"Yes,.. that's me" Darian placed his sword near his desk. "Dissapointed that you're rooming with a cursed noble?"
"Not really" the young man looked back into his book and flipped a page "..whoever you are... I don't really care"
"That's good to hear... I guess" Darian remarked. "And you are?"
"Hmm....Kaelric" he hesitated before responding.
"Kaelric of ?" Darian asked.
"Just Kaelric... I'm a commoner"
Darian tilted his head, studying him.
"A commoner ... in a Noble Academy?"
"How'd you manage that?"
Kaelric adjusted his glasses that seem worn out and overused.
"Scholarship. I scored the highest in every written exams and got the support of a few high nobles" he continued.
"This Academy surprisingly approved of my entrance. I guess they wanted to see if a commoner could survive amongst nobles"
Darian gave a faint smirk." And? Do you plan on surviving?".
Kakeric shut his book with a quiet snap, he shifted his gaze onto Darian, now giving him full attention. "Whatever it takes".
"Bold words.. for a commoner" Darian leaned back in his bed.
"Whatever you say... Cursed One" Kaelric let out a soft chuckle before returning to his book.
For a long moment, the only sounds were the scratch of Kaelric's pen and the muffled voices of students drifting in from the courtyard below.
Two strangers, bound to share a room.
One branded as cursed.
The other determined to survive.
.....
The Academy training hall echoed with each strike. His blade carved through the still air, precise, relentless yet not quite perfect.
Xavier, Heir of house Varllarta had been swinging for some time. He had been training whole day while others rested for tomorrow's class.
His blonde hair dripping with sweat, his shirt soaking and his lungs pumping for air and yet he didn't stop. He kept swinging.
'I need to be perfect' his thoughts deafening the sounds of his swings as it hits the training dummies.
He held his stance, chest rising and falling in measured rhythm. To anyone else, it was flawless. To him, it was a hollow echo.
"Not good enough," he muttered, voice low, steady.
He raised his sword again. Even though trembling, he swung. He reinforced his body with mana and continued swinging.
"Not good enough" he repeated.
His body ached. His muscles burning.
Yet he kept on.
For hours.
His blue eyes burning with determination.
'To keep up with those who are talented'
'To keep up with Lady Melinda'
'I must work harder than everybody else'
Xaviers thoughts all fixated on one goal.
Taking the Top Spot.