Lunch had ended. The final period began.

  The Academy labeled it “Independent self-study.”

  A polite way of saying the staff had run out of ideas for the day.

  Section F looked the same as it had that morning. Folding chairs leaned at odd angles. The desk wore fresh scratches like battle scars. The light fixture still dangled crooked, and the faint blood stain on the floor had been smeared into a dull brown patch. Scorched glass hung in the air. No one pointed it out.

  They settled in without ceremony.

  Mitsuo perched on the edge of the desk, legs swinging. Hana dropped her bag against the wall and leaned there, phone already glowing in her grip. Corin lowered himself to the floor, marker uncapped and hovering like it might bite. Elia turned a chair backward and rested her chin on her folded arms. Renard pressed his back to the windowless wall, arms loose at his sides. Silas stretched across two chairs, one card flipping between his fingers in lazy arcs.

  The silence wasn’t heavy. But it was there for a bit.

  Silas broke it first. He assembled playing cards in neatly organized structures and leaned forward. “Okay, real talk. That girl at lunch. Serin. What was that about?”

  Hana snorted and kept scrolling, thumb moving in quick jerks. “Section One doesn’t usually bother with anyone.”

  Corin drew a slow blue line across his own wrist, eyes narrowed at the color. “She said Mitsuo was the only one whose EL jumped today. Like she keeps a personal spreadsheet on every single one of us.”

  Mitsuo rubbed the bridge of his nose, shoulders curling inward a fraction. “Yeah… I didn’t know what she meant and tried to brush her off.” He gave a small shudder. “Didn’t want the attention. Things like this always start some weird cliché chain reaction.”

  Elia tilted her head, chin still on her arms. She gestured loosely at the sad little room. “EL’s that Equilibrium thing they measure. Higher number means stronger output, better control, according to them. It’s what they use to decide who gets promoted and who stays… here. Maybe she came over because she was curious. Or bored. Nothing important happens on the first day.”

  Hana stretched her arms overhead, finally setting the phone aside. “So she felt that? Across the whole campus?”

  The realization settled over them like a cold draft. They were dwarfed. Completely.

  Corin interrupted the quiet spiral, marker pausing mid-stroke. “Aside from the creepy monitoring… why him? There’s plenty of others with way higher ELs. We’re literally the end of the line.”

  Elia gave a small shrug, arms still folded under her chin. “Curious? They have powers that rule at the top. Ours don’t. Polar opposites.”

  Renard gave the smallest nod, voice low. “Or trouble.”

  Silas toppled the cards over with a flick, mostly for dramatic effect. “Trouble for who? Us or her? For the record we’d be toast.”

  The conversation trailed off until they were interrupted by someone stepping into the room arms full.

  Layhen stepped out of the Section III room, the door clicking shut with that polished finality. The hallway was emptying fast, students hurrying to different classes or dorms, voices echoing like they had places worth being. He didn’t hurry. The Academy liked things neat.

  He detoured to the staff lounge first. Coffee was calling, and while he was there he grabbed a few things from the supply cabinet.

  A plain steel rod, cold and unremarkable, about two feet long. A small cube that shifted colors depending on the angle you looked at it. A deck of cards he’d rigged years ago, plus a few dice and coins for good measure. A bag of miscellaneous junk: a key, a pen, a small coin, a button—nothing special. And two simple wooden dolls.

  He tucked them under his arm and stuffed the rest into his pockets wherever they fit. Either he wasn’t a fan of bags or tidiness. Probably both.

  Before heading out he poured himself a coffee. Slightly late, but that was fine.

  Layhen

  I stepped in, arms full of random objects. I didn’t announce myself. I simply closed the door with my elbow and surveyed the room.

  The six of them looked up. Just acknowledging. Like oh right, this again.

  I set the items on the desk with a soft clatter.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  I leaned against the desk and looked at them for a long moment.

  “These are all toys,” I said simply. “Nothing more. Nothing less.”

  I picked up the color-shifting cube first, turning it casually in my hand so the faces flickered. I tossed it lightly to Corin. “This one changes depending on how you look at it.”

  Corin caught it one-handed, already squinting at the shifting colors. “Cool. So it’s like… a Rubik’s Cube, that changes colour. Wait.” He tilted it once and muttered under his breath, “Please don’t turn purple, please don’t turn purple…”

  I moved on, picking up the plain steel rod. I handed it to Hana. “This doesn’t hold anything on its own.”

  Hana took it, fingers brushing the metal like she was testing it. It zapped her a little, she twitched slightly "Awesome. A metal stick. And it reacts."

  Silas got the rigged deck, a few dice, and a coin. I slid them across the desk. “Deck’s not fair.”

  Silas’s grin was instant. He fanned the cards. "Cool enough."

  Renard received the small bag key, pen, coin, button, nothing valuable. I set it in front of him. “You said you thought it was bad luck. Losing things. Here’s some everyday items.”

  Renard weighed the bag in his palm, eyes narrowing just a fraction. “Is this just a bag of lost and found elementary items?"

  Elia received the two wooden dolls—one with features, one featureless, both with jointed limbs. I placed them on the chair arm beside her. “Two dolls. One with a face, one without.”

  Elia picked up the featureless one first, turning it over in her hands without saying anything. She just gave a small, half-smile like the blank face made perfect sense to her.

  Mitsuo waited, but I didn’t hand him anything.

  He glanced up, one eyebrow twitching. “Nothing for me?”

  I shook my head. “You don’t need one today.”

  He just shrugged, the kind of shrug that said sure enough.

  I stepped back, scanning the group. “That’s it for today. Independent period or whatever. Play with them however you want. Over the next few days, see what happens. No rules. Just observe.”

  Silas butted in, "You can't trick us, this is just homework with extra steps."

  I just smiled back, pointing at him, "If you know then don't ask."

  The bell rang soon after, end of the day.

  I yawned, stretched my arms, and headed out first, the door clicking behind me.

  “Bye, kids. Don’t slack.”

  The six of them didn’t rush out.

  They lingered with their items, turning them over in their hands, the quiet wonder settling in. A few minutes passed like that.

  Mitsuo stayed behind a bit as the others filed out. He spotted something on the desk—a small folded slip of paper tucked at the side. Plain white. Neat handwriting. Just two letters and a tiny sketch, snakes coiled oddly.

  S.O.

  “Secret Organisation?" Briefly, a vivid picture of Layhen sitting ominously on some vantablack throne laughing and making weirdly over the top poses flashed through his mind. Strangely enough this didn't seem too far off from reality.

  He chuckled, confused, but ultimately unsure. Whatever, wasn't his place to pry.

  After a moment he folded it again and placed it back exactly where he found it.

  He soon slipped out of the classroom, closing the door softly behind him.

  Mitsuo

  The walk to the dorms cut across the back of campus, past the training fields where a few late stragglers were still practicing.

  I kept my head down, hands shoved in my pockets, the afternoon light stretching my shadow long and thin across the path. The air smelled like cut grass and warm rubber from the obstacle lanes. Everything felt too bright after the dim classroom, like the sun was trying a little too hard.

  The dorm buildings rose ahead, five clean stories of glass and polished stone, balconies catching the last of the sun. I hadn’t really noticed how nice they looked when I first arrived yesterday. Too busy trying not to look lost. Now they felt almost too good for someone like me, like I’d walked into the wrong building by mistake.

  I swiped my keycard at the entrance, rode the elevator up, and stepped into the quiet shared unit. Two bedrooms, small living area, decent kitchenette, actual windows that let in real light. Way better than the classroom, that was for sure.

  I changed into a hoodie and jeans that didn’t feel like a uniform, then dropped into the desk chair. The sleek Academy laptop lit up with that soft blue glow. I typed a few half-hearted searches — blood stuff, hemokinesis but nothing useful came up. Just the usual safe-tier articles as always. I closed the tabs after ten minutes. Pointless.

  I leaned back and tried to focus on my own ability instead. Just… feel it. The air stayed still. My nose creeped with warmth, I started thinking of other ways, would the blood from a cut act the same? Probably. My thoughts started drifting into possibilities. If I wanted to use my blood in any meaningful way.. large wounds, or direct cuts near the veins, that would have to be the minimum wouldn't it. Should I test it?

  After a few minutes, my concentration was broken by the loud chime of the doorbell.

  Right. The roommate notice. I’d completely forgotten with everything else.

  I opened the door.

  A tall, sharp-featured guy stood there. Dark hair cropped short, uniform still crisp, posture straight enough to look like he was posing for a recruitment poster. He could bench-press 6 plates without breaking a sweat.

  “Kail Voss,” he said coldly. “Section III. Nice to meet you.”

  I replied the same way, a bit concerned. “Mitsuo Hayashi. Section X. Nice to meet you too.”

  Kai held the stare for half a second longer, assessing, like he decided I wasn't a threat, his shoulders dropped soon after and he let out a short, out of breath laugh. “Sorry. Had to keep that up all day. Everyone in Section III walks around like they’re auditioning for a statue. Gets exhausting.”

  I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, simply going along with the conversation. “Yeah, I can imagine.” Well, at the very least this roommate wasn't the super-elite type, or by the looks of it, not after school?

  Kail grinned, the fierce look gone. “We’re roommates, right? Then let's get along. I don’t bite. Much.”

  We ended on an easy vibe. I helped him haul his bags into the second bedroom, mostly clothes, a couple of books, one duffel that looked suspiciously heavy. He thanked me, we exchanged the usual “see you around” stuff, and I slipped back to my own room.

  I sat down at the desk again.

  Just a small cut, I thought. I grazed the razor across my fingertip. The sting was familiar. The blood welled up slow and thick.

  Concentrate.

  It started trailing down my finger, then stopped. Coiled. Like it was deciding where it wanted to go. I watched it climb back up, sliding into the cut like it had never left. My skin twitched once, a quick ripple under the surface, and the wound sealed smooth.

  For a second my wrist burned exactly where the old scar sat. The same warmth from the hospital night. I yanked my hand away like I’d touched something alive.

  My head throbbed, not from pain, just pressure, like someone had pressed their ear against the inside of my skull and was listening. I was exhausted all of a sudden. I crashed into the bed, drifting off before I could decide whether that feeling had been fear or relief.

  Ah.