Morning unfolded like a well-worn script. Chester stirred from a dream that clung like cobwebs, a touch later than usual. Sunlight speared through the parted curtains, spilling golden ribbons across the room. A gentle morning breeze danced in, infusing the air with the promise of a fresh dawn.
He swung his legs over the bed's edge and padded to the bathroom to freshen up. Uniform slipped on, deep blue robe with the academy crest. Tie knotted with a glance in the mirror. Then he descended to the courtyard, where his father, Kerl Ormund, stood rigid in headmaster finery, flanked by their driver, Frookvolt Fernandez, who bowed with the polished deference of long service.
"You're always late," his father drawled, tone laced with weary resignation. He knew his son's habits were etched in stone.
Chester said nothing and bit back debate.
Hooves clattered against cobblestone as the carriage rolled from the estate. The sound reverberated through the crisp air.
En route, Chester gazed out the window. Thoughts drifted in his novel-trapped fate.
Yesterday Alise lived. Was the poison skipped this time? Or did she not touch the sandwich at all?
Argh, this loop system makes no sense!
His eyes fluttered shut.
But why do I loop only if she dies? A riddle without edges.
And that sandwich I ate last loop, was it from her? Impossible. She hates me. Hates Chester Kerl.
The city of Razack unfolded outside: neat rows of buildings, storefronts bustling with the rhythm of daily life. Bakers hawked enchanted loaves. Herbalists peddled glowing vials.
"Chester, head home without me tonight. I'll be tied up until late," his father broke the silence.
"Yeah," Chester muttered, listless.
Ormund sighed. A flicker of disappointment shone in his eyes. He'd hoped for more than monosyllables.
Silence reclaimed the carriage, broken only by hooves and the city's hum.
Soon, the academy loomed at Razack's heart.
Father and son parted at the gates.
The courtyard buzzed as always. Jeers and whispers dogged Chester's steps like loyal hounds. He was numb to them now. Changing hearts was a fool's errand.
Swaggering with practiced arrogance, he collided inevitably with Alise and her entourage: Marcia, Liane. Morning ritual, fate's cruel joke.
"Hmm, we keep crossing paths at dawn. Destined soulmates, perhaps?" Chester teased, voice dripping mockery.
Alise's initial scowl melted into a flush she quickly masked. "Shut it! You pest!"
She stormed off, Marcia and Liane in tow. Chester lingered with a forced cynical grin. Heart sliced to ribbons beneath.
I just want to talk to her properly. But I'm Chester Kerl.
The first bell tolled, summoning classes.
Inside, the lecture hall hushed. Students scribbled furiously as Sir Henry Tertris lectured. His voice was slow, weighty, crystal-clear. Every word landed with efficient grace.
"Combine fire and earth elements, and you birth Volcanic magic. A variant of staggering power. But the mana drain is brutal. Master it wisely. This is S+ tier. Mishandle the flow, and your core destabilizes."
"Kerl! Front and center!"
Chester, mid-note, jolted upright and ambled forward, all lazy nonchalance.
"What's up, Sir?"
Henry scrutinized him head to toe, chin in hand.
"You're joining the Third Royal Magical Season Event with Alise, Alex, Marcia, and Derrick."
The room erupted.
"Sir, we don't want him!" Marcia shot to her feet.
"He'll tank the academy's rep," Derrick added from three seats back. Blue hair princely neat, emerald eyes flashing disdain.
Alex piled on: "Agreed. He contributes nothing. How'd he even place?"
Chester stood baffled. The Royal Magical Season Event: kingdom spectacle, showcasing Razack's academy talents to the public and Celestial Organization scouts. Impress them, earn Noble Razack Talent status and a fast track to elite ranks.
"We need five. Chester's in on the principal's recommendation," Henry stated.
Gasps rippled. Nepotism.
"—Called it."
"—Insider pull."
"Some of us slaved for this spot. He waltzes in."
Each barb pierced like shrapnel. Chester pieced it: his father's doing.
He flashed a smug grin. "What can I say?"
"Quiet! Kerl, sit."
Chester sauntered back, tossing arrogant glances that fueled more disgust.
"Tch!" Marcia hissed. Alise stayed silent, eyes on her notes.
Henry clapped once. "Back to Volcanic fusion."
*****
The sun climbed high. Recess bell thundered.
Students flooded corridors, canteen-bound, library-bound.
Chester veered toward the admin building's back garden, his sanctuary.
Jeers trailed him like echoes.
He scaled the low wall, claiming the six-meter bench beneath the sakura. Stretched out, left hand shading his brow, he stared at the sky.
Breeze whispered through leaves, tousling his hair, rocking branches in gentle rhythm.
Nature's caress eased the mental storm, lulling him.
Eyes drifted shut. Sleep claimed him.
******
"I've been saving you this whole time, you know! Wh… why?!"
Blood everywhere, no pain. Before him: someone familiar, revered, breathtakingly beautiful.
"I… I don't understand," she murmured, voice fractured with sorrow.
"A… A…"
His words faded.
"NO!!!"
******
"Hey!"
A voice, soft yet rough, yanked him awake.
Chester bolted upright, rubbing eyes. Then froze.
Alise stood arms crossed, sapphire gaze laced with disdain. Yet a flicker of something softer lingered at the edges.
He dropped his gaze, steadying his pulse.
Rising, he quipped: "Wow, thrilled someone cares. Especially the academy's sweetest gem."
Behind the banter: confusion. Alise waking him? Against every fiber of her hatred for Chester Kerl.
She huffed. "I woke you. Say thanks."
He grinned. "Thanks!"
"Er—uh, y-you're welcome!" Her cheeks bloomed crimson, unseen by him.
"Bell rang. Class soon," she said, turning to leave.
Chester watched her reach the wall, then called: "Waiting for me?"
She halted.
"As if. I happened to be here. Don't flatter yourself." Tsundere fire flared, face redder.
She vaulted the wall and vanished.
Chester scratched his head. "Women."
******
"I don't get why he's picked." Derrick's voice cut through the music room, instruments gleaming, whiteboard smudged with eraser ghosts.
"Exactly," Marcia added, emotion thick.
"Principal's call," Alex soothed, arms folded.
"Tch, principal's son," Derrick fumed. He'd confront Ormund if he dared.
Marcia scanned. "Where's Alise?"
"She said bathroom," Marcia recalled.
"But she's taking forever."
"Sorry I'm late." Alise swept in, poise intact.
Derrick jumped. Chester trailed behind. Marcia gaped. Alex stayed silent.
"Hey, team! Sorry we're late!" Chester beamed.
Alise cut in: "Everyone's here. To business."
They formed a lopsided circle.
"Opening: fusion magic art with existing props. Mid: combat magic-melee hybrid. Finale: simple but stunning. I'm blank," Derrick outlined rationally.
"Love the combat slot. Spear work!" Marcia chirped, serious yet bright.
"Tier-3 fusion for the close. Pool our mana," Alex proposed.
"Agreed. We practiced last week," Alise nodded.
Nods all around except Chester.
Eyes turned.
"What?" he asked, genuinely lost.
"You get it?" Derrick pressed, irritated.
"Don't joke," Marcia warned.
"Oh, totally!" Chester grinned.
Alex closed in. "You sure?" Finger jabbed. "Don't drag us down."
"Enough!" Alise mediated. "We're here to plan, not fight."
"Nothing more? I'm out." She exited.
They watched her go.
"If I don't get it, what then?" Chester shot back.
Alex's temper flared. Derrick and Marcia bristled. Alex restrained them.
"Play games, and I'll cut you loose permanently," Alex vowed, eyes locked.
Chester met the stare, revulsion rising. I'm starting to hate Alexandre Brookhaven.
He stormed out. Frookvolt waited with the carriage.
"Young Master Chester, your ride."
Night draped the sky, stars twinkling with fading vigor as the carriage rolled home.