Arden's POV
The letter came before dawn.
I had been asleep on the small couch in my apartment, the one that had seen better days. Coffee cups littered the tiny table beside me. A notebook lay open with scribbled numbers and words I barely understood. I was used to this quiet chaos.
And then it was there.
Lying on the floor like a secret someone had left behind for me to find.
I almost didn't see it at first.
It was a crisp envelope. White. Too clean. Too perfect. My name — Arden Eversen — written in ink that gleamed faintly under the weak morning light. The kind of handwriting you only see on wedding invitations or legal documents. Not something meant for me. Not something that should exist in my life.
No stamp. No return address. Nothing.
I knelt down slowly, almost afraid I'd wake the paper from wherever it had come.
"Who…?" I muttered, mostly to myself.
I turned the envelope over in my hands, inspecting it from every angle. My thumb traced the crease.
"This doesn't make sense," I whispered.
I lived in a small, rundown apartment. My parents weren't around to help. I had learned to survive on part-time jobs and odd tasks. A scholarship? Edelweiss Academy? The name sounded familiar, but only faintly — like a dream I had once forgotten.
I hesitated for a long moment.
Then I tore the envelope carefully, afraid of tearing the paper inside.
Inside, there was a single sheet of paper. No signature. No official stamp. Just words:
To Arden Eversen,
Congratulations. You have been chosen as a full scholar of Edelweiss Academy.
Report to the main campus within five days. Lodging and uniform will be provided.
— The Office of Administration
I blinked.
"Is this… real?" I whispered to the empty room.
I read the letter again. And again.
I hadn't applied. I hadn't even asked.
This wasn't just strange. It was impossible.
I felt my stomach twist. My pulse began to pick up speed.
Part of me wanted to throw the paper away. Part of me wanted to laugh — hard, bitter laughter at the universe playing another cruel joke.
But deep down, I wanted it to be real.
Five days later, I stood at the gates of Edelweiss Academy.
It was nothing like I had imagined. It was more. More towering, more intimidating, more untouchable. The gates were made of black iron, carved with twisting vines and crowned with fleur-de-lis symbols. Beyond the gates, the campus stretched endlessly — marble paths, silver spires, gardens lined with white flowers that glowed faintly in the morning mist.
I adjusted my worn bag on my shoulder. My clothes felt out of place. The uniform they gave me still smelled of starch and polish. It didn't fit perfectly. But I had no choice.
"Welcome, Number 013," I muttered, reading the number printed on my student ID over and over. #013 – PW Division.
A man in a long coat approached me. His eyes were sharp, unreadable.
"You must be the new scholar," he said. "Name?"
"Arden Eversen," I replied. My voice sounded too loud, too nervous.
He scanned the letter again, then nodded curtly. "Room 013. West Dormitory. Orientation starts at seven sharp. Don't be late."
I swallowed. "Right."
The courtyard was alive with quiet movement. Students in polished uniforms walked in pairs or groups, their laughter soft, measured. No one ran. No one shouted.
I felt out of place. Small. Unseen. And yet, watched.
I overheard snippets of conversations:
"She's Rank I already?"
"They say she got perfect marks again."
I didn't know who they were talking about. I didn't want to.
I walked to the dorm, my boots echoing on the marble floor. The hallways stretched endlessly. Each door was identical. Each number plate precise and gleaming.
Room 013. I found it finally.
Inside, the room smelled faintly of new paint and metal. The second bed was untouched. The desk across from mine was clean. Perfect. I exhaled slowly. At least one thing in this place felt… normal.
I unpacked my few belongings. A worn notebook. Some clothes. A pen that barely worked. That was all I owned that mattered.
And then I pulled out the letter again.
The red ink was still there. The words I hadn't noticed before:
You don't belong here.
I froze.
I looked around the room.
Empty. Silent. Too silent.
I whispered, "Okay… who the hell is playing with me?"
I sat by the window, staring at the courtyard. The white flowers glimmered faintly under the mist. The gates of the academy loomed beyond, iron twisting like fingers.
I touched the paper again, tracing the words. You don't belong here.
The wind pressed against the window, almost like it was whispering back.
I spoke aloud to the empty room. "I don't know why I'm here. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. But I guess there's no going back."
For a long time, I just sat there. The moonlight reflecting off the towers. The fog curling through the courtyard.
And I felt it.
Someone was already watching.
Someone knew who I was.
I didn't know their name. I didn't know their face.
But I knew this:
Edelweiss wasn't going to let me be ordinary.
And I didn't belong here.