The corridors of Wysteria Academy were never quiet.
Even at this hour, voices overlapped—students exchanging stories, laughter echoing beneath the soft glow of artificial starlight woven into the ceiling.
Then—
the noise shifted.
Not silence.
But something close to it.
A boy walked through.
Muhan Lockhart moved at an unhurried pace, his small footsteps barely making a sound against the polished floor. His dark hair caught the light in soft strands, his blue eyes wandering—not lost, just… observing.
He didn't look like much.
He shouldn't have.
And yet—
people noticed.
Whispers followed him, subtle at first, then harder to ignore.
"Is that… a first-year?"
"He's tiny…"
"…Why does he feel like that?"
A pause.
Then—
"He's kind of… beautiful."
Muhan tilted his head slightly, catching fragments of it without really understanding. His expression didn't change. If anything, he just looked… curious.
A pair of heels clicked softly against the floor.
Measured. Confident.
Professor Su-ho approached from the far end of the corridor.
She carried herself with quiet authority—tall, composed, every step deliberate. Her chestnut hair rested loosely over one shoulder, framing a face that was calm, attentive… and sharp in a way that didn't need to be shown.
Level 120.
Not displayed.
Not announced.
But there.
She stopped in front of him.
For a brief moment, she said nothing—just studied him.
Then she smiled.
"Well," she said lightly, crouching just enough to meet his height, "you've been here less than five minutes, and already the hallway's distracted."
Muhan blinked.
"…Did I do something wrong?"
A quiet laugh escaped her.
"No," she said. "If anything, you did it a little too right."
He didn't follow.
That was obvious.
She stood again, turning slightly toward the classroom doors ahead.
"Come on," she added. "Let's get you settled before the entire academy decides to come take a look."
Muhan nodded once and followed.
The doors to Class 1-A slid open.
Conversation stopped.
It didn't fade.
Didn't slow.
It stopped.
Dozens of eyes turned at once.
Some curious.
Some unimpressed.
Most… caught off guard.
"New student?" someone whispered.
"That's a kid…"
"Wait—his aura—"
Muhan stood at the entrance for a moment, taking it all in.
Different races. Different energies. Different presences layered across the room like overlapping currents.
And then—
movement.
A girl near the front row stood up.
She didn't rush.
Didn't hesitate either.
Mi-cha Lawson.
Raven-black hair fell cleanly to her shoulders, framing a face that was calm, composed… but not cold. Her violet eyes were steady, observant, catching details others might miss.
Level 10.
Balanced.
Controlled.
She smoothed her uniform instinctively before stepping forward.
"Hi," she said, voice soft but clear. "I'm Mi-cha Lawson."
A brief pause.
Then, just slightly more confident—
"Welcome to Class 1-A."
Muhan looked at her.
Not past her.
Not through her.
At her.
A small smile formed.
"I'm Muhan Lockhart," he replied. "Nice to meet you, Mi-cha."
Something shifted.
Not loudly.
But enough.
A few girls leaned forward.
Then another.
Then suddenly—
the distance closed.
Questions came first.
"Where are you from?"
"How old are you really?"
"Are your eyes natural?"
Hands followed—light, harmless, curious. Someone brushed his hair back to get a better look. Another laughed, covering her mouth.
Muhan didn't pull away.
But he didn't lean in either.
He just stood there, answering what he could… and ignoring what he didn't understand.
At the back of the room—
a chair scraped faintly.
Ji-hoon Rousewele didn't bother hiding his expression.
Arms crossed.
Back straight.
Eyes fixed.
Level 11.
The highest in the room.
And until a minute ago—
undisputed.
"…You've got to be kidding me," he muttered.
Beside him, Soo-ah Lesly leaned slightly over her desk, chin resting in her palm.
Golden hair caught the light in soft strands, her expression open, easy. There was a natural brightness to her—something energetic, almost playful.
Level 10.
But it didn't feel rigid.
It moved.
She watched the scene at the front of the class, then smiled to herself.
"He's interesting," she said.
Ji-hoon let out a quiet scoff.
"Interesting?" he repeated. "He's a kid."
Soo-ah glanced at him, then back at Muhan.
"Yeah," she said. "A kid who walked in and changed the whole room."
Ji-hoon's jaw tightened.
"I'm Level 11," he said flatly. "I've unlocked three combat skills already."
No response.
Not from her.
Not from anyone.
The laughter near Muhan only grew.
His fingers curled slightly against his arm.
"…Right," he murmured.
His gaze sharpened.
Not loud.
Not explosive.
Focused.
Let them look.
It won't last.
At the front of the room, Muhan finally slipped free from the small crowd, stepping aside just enough to breathe.
His expression hadn't changed much.
Still calm.
Still quiet.
But his eyes—
lingered.
Just for a moment—
on the boy at the back.
No words.
No reaction.
Just recognition.
Something had begun.
Not loud enough for the room to notice.
Not yet.
But in a place like Wysteria—
that was all it took.
A glance.
A thought.
A single step out of place.
And everything could change.