The carriage lurched forward with a groan of old wood and iron. The wheels clattered over cobblestones, sending faint vibrations up through the bench.
I kept my eyes closed, my head resting against the rough paneling, trying to shut out the world for a few more minutes.
Just a little longer.
It didn't work.
Three pairs of eyes were on me.
I could feel them.
The girl sat directly opposite, maybe seventeen, with neatly pinned chestnut hair and a travel cloak edged in silver thread. The two boys flanked her—one lean and sharp-featured with a smug tilt to his mouth, the other broader, with a faint scar cutting through his left eyebrow.
Nobles. All of them.
Their clothes were clean, well-cut, and far too fine for this rattling box.
The smug boy broke the silence first.
"What's with the hair?" he asked, his voice loud enough to carry over the wheels. "You trying to look like some backwater minstrel?"
I opened my eyes slowly.
His gaze flicked to my piercings—then my ears—then back to the lilac-violet strands falling across my forehead.
I shrugged. "It grows this color. Nothing I did."
The girl tilted her head, curiosity flickering behind a veil of superiority.
"I've never seen that shade on a commoner before. Is it natural?"
"Apparently."
The scarred boy gave a small nod. "It's unique."
The smug one wasn't done.
"You're the scholarship case, right? F-Class."
His lips curled. "What village are you from that they even let you in?"
"Valenridge Lower District," I answered evenly. "And I passed the exam. Same as you."
He snorted. "Barely, I bet. Commoners usually wash out in the first week anyway. No bloodline, no real talent."
The girl shot him a look—but there was no real reprimand in it.
"Don't be rude, Taren."
She turned back to me, polite but probing, her tone carrying that subtle edge of condescension nobles always seemed to master.
"I'm Elira Voss. High Noble from the eastern provinces.
This is Taren Voss—my cousin—and Silas Ardent. Low Noble, from a knight family."
Silas inclined his head. "Nice to meet you."
Taren merely smirked, leaning back with his arms crossed.
"Voss lineage goes back centuries," he said lazily.
"What about you? Vale? Sounds like something from a peasant farm."
Elira didn't laugh.
She also didn't correct him.
Silas looked away, faint discomfort crossing his face—but he stayed silent.
I kept my voice neutral. "No lineage. Just me."
Taren clicked his tongue, as if that confirmed something he'd already decided.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, looking me over again—slower this time.
"So they really are scraping the bottom," he said lightly.
"No blood. No backing. No sponsor. Just… luck."
His eyes flicked to my hands, then back to my face.
"Tell me," he continued, almost amused,
"how long do you think someone like you lasts at the academy? A month? Two?"
Silas shifted beside him. "Taren—"
Taren waved him off without looking.
"I'm just curious. F-Class, scholarship, no lineage…"
He shrugged. "Statistically speaking, you're gone before the first term ends."
He leaned back again, relaxed—completely certain.
"Which means you're sitting in a seat meant for someone else."
"Someone who actually belongs there."
His gaze locked onto mine, sharp and assessing.
As if I were already a failed investment.
I kept my expression blank. "Funny. The examiners didn't seem to think so."
For just a moment, something cold flickered in his eyes—annoyance, maybe.
Then he smiled wider.
"Exams don't measure everything," he said.
"Reality does."
A short silence followed, thick with unspoken judgment.
Outside, the city slowly gave way to open fields dotted with low stone walls and the occasional blue lantern post.
Silas broke the tension at last.
"The academy's tough for everyone," he said, glancing my way.
"Even nobles. But if you made it this far, you must have something."
I decided to test the waters—carefully.
"Is magic… common here?" I asked, keeping my tone mild."Back home in the lower district of Valenridge, we rarely saw any."
They stared at me.
All three of them.
As if I'd just asked whether the sky was real.
Taren burst out laughing.
"Are you serious?"
"Magic is everywhere. But without mana, nothing works."
He grinned, enjoying this far too much.
"Mana's the energy flowing through all living things—like blood in your veins, but for spells and skills."
"How do you not know that? Even commoners in the slums should've heard of it."
Mana.
That word again.
It had been buzzing in my head ever since I woke up.
Why does it feel… familiar?
Elira recovered first.
"Well, perhaps in the lower districts it isn't as obvious," she said smoothly.
"Mana is the core of all magic. Nobles with strong bloodlines simply have more of it—but everyone has at least a little."
She raised her hand.
A soft glow bloomed around her palm—then faded.
"A basic weave," she said.
"Without mana, it's impossible."
Silas nodded. "Yeah. It's the foundation. The academy tests your mana-core first thing."
I nodded as if this were all new information.
D-Rank. C-Rank. Bloodline. Mana. Mana-Core?
The terms echoed in my mind like fragments from a half-remembered story—
not clear enough to grasp, but sharp enough to unsettle.
One name, however, stuck.
Silas Ardent.
It rang a bell.
Vague. Distant. Like something I'd read once.
Where?
I couldn't place it.
Probably nothing.
I shook the thought away and turned my gaze toward the window.
Far above the distant treeline, a shadow slid across the gray sky.
Huge.
Leathery wings.
A long neck.
A rider in dark armor astride its back—barely visible at this distance.
Is that… a dragon? Or a wyvern?
From this far away, I couldn't tell.
The wings were broad.
The body massive.
Scales caught the weak sunlight as it beat its way across the sky.
My breath hitched.
I've read this before.
That certainty struck me hard—then vanished the instant I tried to grasp it.
Coincidence, I told myself again.
Just a damn coincidence.
But the tightness in my chest returned—sharper this time.
The carriage rolled on toward the border of the Celestine Empire.
And the quiet voice at the back of my mind whispered once more:
You already know all of this.
You just don't remember where from.