After half an hour in Magic Theory, I realized two things
One, I was severely underqualified to be in this class.
Two, I was surrounded by people who were very qualified.
The professor—an older man with silver hair tied into a warrior's knot—paced the front of the hall, flicking his fingers to conjure floating diagrams of mana pathways.
"These are the four primary channels," he said, tapping one with a glowing quill. "Your magic flows through them whether you wish it to or not. Mastery requires awareness."
I stared at the luminous pathways.
Mine did not look like that.
Mine looked like… well, like a network of chaotic rivers that occasionally exploded.
I copied notes anyway, pretending I understood.
Seraphina sat beside me like she'd been born doing this—listening with perfect posture, occasionally jotting clean, elegant notes. She didn't seem smug about it. Just… effortlessly competent.
Life wasn't fair.
The professor clapped his hands. "Pair practice. Three spells: basic ignition, mana pulse, and water shaping. Choose someone and begin."
Immediately the room erupted into soft chatter. Students moved to their partners—clearly already knowing one another from noble circles or prior training. I glanced at Seraphina.
She met my eyes.
"We can practice together," she said, tone neutral but kind.
I nodded, relieved. "Thank you. I—actually might need it."
She stood, posture still perfect. "Ignition is simple. Shape your mana along a single channel and release it at your fingertip. Like this."
A spark flared elegantly at her hand—small, golden, neatly controlled.
I looked at my own hand.
Steady. Calm. Please don't explode.
I gathered mana into my palm—
Jerry hissed. "Too much."
"Shh."
I compressed the energy and exhaled.
A tiny spark flickered at my fingertip.
Then grew.
And grew.
And—
fwOOMP
A fireball the size of a pumpkin erupted before I could stop it.
"AH—!"
Seraphina grabbed my wrist and flicked her other hand upward. A dome of shimmering mana swallowed the flame before it roasted my eyebrows off.
The dome dissipated.
The class stared.
I tried to laugh like nothing happened. "Hehe… beginner's luck?"
Seraphina blinked slowly. "…Or beginner's danger."
For the next hour, she helped me refine each spell.
Ignition? Finally manageable.
Mana pulse? I knocked myself backward once, but got it eventually.
Water shaping? Too easy.
A sphere of water curved gracefully between my palms like it was greeting me.
Seraphina watched with quiet curiosity. "You're… very comfortable with water magic."
I shrugged. "Just picked it up quickly."
Jerry muttered smugly, "Elemental affinity. Obvious."
"Obvious to who?" I hissed.
But Seraphina only smiled faintly and let it go.
After class ended, the hall spilled out into the stone courtyard. Students separated into clusters—laughing, chatting, comparing spell performance.
I was shoving my notebook back into my bag when someone tapped my shoulder.
"You were in my testing group, weren't you?"
I turned.
And blinked.
It was the noble boy from before—the one who'd gotten screamed at by the Viscount during the entrance exams. The one who just stood there while Cassian's friend threatened him.
Up close, he looked even more unreadable—dark brown eyes, straight black hair tied at the nape, and an expression so calm it bordered on eerie. Not cold. Just… quiet.
"Oh—yeah," I said. "You were number 211, I think?"
He nodded. "Dorian Valen. Fides."
Another Fides noble. Fantastic. This continent never ran out of intimidatingly polite people.
"I'm Mavis," I said. "Van Buqeat."
His eyes flickered—recognition. Of Alya's family name.
"I apologize for not greeting you properly earlier," Dorian said calmly. "My focus was… elsewhere."
I remembered the argument. The Viscount screaming. The humiliation.
"You didn't do anything wrong," I said. "You just handed someone a plate."
He tilted his head. "That is what confuses me. It was only a plate."
"Some nobles are idiots," I said without thinking.
He blinked.
Seraphina, passing by us, let out a quiet cough that absolutely sounded like she was hiding a laugh.
Dorian nodded. "Accurate."
I stared at him, shocked. "You agree?"
"Logic requires truth," he replied simply. "Truthfully, stupidity is common."
I bit down a grin.
Seraphina stepped beside me. "Dorian, you should stop intimidating our new classmate."
"I'm not intimidating her," he said.
"You're staring without blinking."
"…Oh." He blinked.
I snorted.
Seraphina looked between us, something amused flickering in her eyes.
"Well," she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "I suppose it's good you're meeting people."
"People?" Dorian repeated. "I am one person."
Seraphina sighed. "Dorian, that was not the point."
Jerry whispered, "He is like a confused puppy."
"Don't say that out loud," I whispered back.
Seraphina blinked. "Say what?"
"NOTHING."
Dorian looked faintly relieved. "If you require assistance with coursework, Lady Mavis, I can help."
"Please don't call me lady."
"It is polite," he replied.
"It makes me feel like I'm sixty."
"…I will consider an alternative."
Seraphina shook her head. "We'll work on that later."
We walked together toward the academy's main path, the air warm with afternoon sun. Students crossed the courtyard in waves; magic shimmered in small bursts as groups practiced or showed off.
For once, I didn't feel alone.
For once, I didn't feel like some nameless girl lost at sea.
This was… nice.
Probably temporary.
But nice.
Dorian paused. "I have economics next. I will depart."
Seraphina nodded. "Try not to frighten your classmates."
"I never frighten anyone."
"You absolutely do."
He blinked. "Oh."
And walked away.
I exhaled a laugh.
Seraphina glanced at me, her eyes soft. "He's harmless. Just quiet."
"I like him," I said honestly.
She smiled. "I thought you might."
We fell into step toward the upper wing.
Jerry curled comfortably around my neck, humming with smug energy.
"You're making friends," he teased.
"I am not."
"You are."
Seraphina continued walking just ahead of me, sunlight catching her long hair, her soft smile lingering as she spoke to a few passing nobles.
I swallowed.
"…Shut up, Jerry."
He chuckled.