A week had passed since Oliver met Ethan.
Now he was sitting inside a carriage, slowly rattling along the stone road toward the Royal Academy of Asteria IX.
On his lap rested a small metalic box, plain on the outside, but held so carefully.
"Ethan, are you sure this will work?" Oliver asked, staring at the box.
"What happened to calling me Senior?" Ethan replied from the side.
"I will call you Senior again if this succeeds."
"Still doubting me, huh?" Ethan snorted. "If you knew how many women fell for me in my last life, you would not say that."
In reality, not a single woman had fallen for him.
He had died a virgin. He barely had any experience with romance at all.
Most of his time had been spent studying, chasing certificates, and sending out resumes.
'And then what?' he thought sourly to himself.
'The job market was a mess. Half the listings were fake. The other half wanted three years of experience for an entry-level position.'
He remembered getting rejected again and again while a friend with a fake portfolio got hired, learned everything on the job, and ended with a permanent contract.
Compared to that, scamming a fourteen-year-old boy just to get his body back felt almost saintly.
The carriage slowed, Oliver lifted the curtain and looked outside.
Ahead, the Royal Academy of Asteria IX came into view.
Tall stone walls rose on both sides, white and clean, with thin lines of glowing runes carved along their surface.
Beyond the walls, towers thrust toward the sky.
Some of them had floating rings of light circling near their tops, slowly spinning like halos.
The main gate stood open, A wide plaza come to their view, filled with people.
Carriages lined up in neat rows.
Some were simple and old, others pulled by well-bred horses with glossy coats and decorated harnesses.
Servants in neat uniforms moved back and forth, lifting luggage, wiping dust, and bowing to their young masters.
Families from different regions brought their children to the academy, each with their own pride and expectations.
Genius noble heirs, Children of rich merchants. A few genius commoners who had somehow squeezed their way in.
The majority wore fine silk and carried themselves with pride. A few stood with stiff backs and uneasy eyes, clearly unused to this kind of crowd.
Oliver's carriage stopped at the edge of the plaza.
He took a deep breath, tightened his grip on the box, and stepped down.
"Not bad," Ethan's voice muttered from the small bag at Oliver's waist. "Fancy buildings, tall towers."
They were far shorter than the skyscrapers from his old world, but the faint glow of runes and the pressure of mana in the air still made them feel more impressive.
Oliver moved away from the carriage and slipped into the crowd.
Students and parents gathered in groups, talking in low voices.
Some discussed exam procedures, some bragged about their magical talent, Others just looked around in awe.
Oliver scanned the crowd once.
He saw her almost immediately.
Even in such a chaotic place, Fiona was easy to find.
She sat alone on a stone bench near the edge of the plaza, her back straight, wearing light blue dress.
The silver-white fox lay curled beside her, tail wrapped around itself.
Fiona's hands rested quietly on her knees, her face cold almost expressionless.
Around her, there was empty space.
In this crowded plaza, where everyone else was pressed close and times were noisy, a clear circle had formed around Fiona.
No one stay around her. People passed by quickly, eyes flickering with a mix of emotion mostly pity and fear.
"Found her?" Ethan asked in a low voice.
"Yes," Oliver answered.
He started walking toward her..
Because no one else went near Fiona, the moment he stepped into that empty circle, he became very obvious.
Heads turned as conversations paused, and a few people nudged their friends, pointing.
"That boy… is he approaching her?"
"Is he crazy? Can he not read the situation? Just getting close to her makes my hair stand."
"Yeah. The temperature around her feels cold."
"Do you not know who she is? She is Viscount Harrow's daughter."
"Wait, you mean Fiona? The one who survived the devil attack?"
"Shh. Do not talk about that here. It is forbidden. I heard her mother died in that attack."
The whispers were low, but in a quiet place like this, every word might as well be shouted.
Oliver felt the weight of their stares fall one by one onto his back. His palms started sweating.
The small box in his hands felt heavier than stone.
His footsteps slowed.
"Hey," Ethan said from the box. "Do not stop now.
You walked all the way here. If you stop in the middle like this, it will be even more embarrassing."
"I know," Oliver muttered through his teeth.
He forced his legs to keep moving.
Every step felt louder than it should be. Each one drew more eyes.
Fiona did not turn her head. She could tell oliver were coming, but she ignored him, as if he had nothing to do with her.
Oliver's heart hammered in his chest.
He tightened his grip on the box, took one more deep breath, and closed the last bit of distance between them.
Oliver stopped in front of her.
He lowered his head, then carefully placed the small metal box on Fiona's lap.
"I am really sorry for what I said last time," Oliver said, forcing the words out.
"This is something I made. I spent three days working on it from scratch.
You are free to throw it away or keep it. I just… I should have known better than to talk like that.
For everything until now, I am sorry."
His voice was not loud, but in the quiet circle around them, everyone could hear it clearly.
Fiona's long lashes trembled slightly. She lowered her eyes, looking at the box on her lap.
She did not say a word.
She just sat there, back straight, hands still on her knees, eyes fixed on the box with a calm that felt almost too cold.
Oliver stood in front of her, not knowing whether to speak again or step back.
People start whispering around them.
"Is that not Oliver?"
"Troublemaker Oliver? That Oliver Reed?"
"Yes, the merchant's son. If you end up in his class in the future, you will understand. Everywhere he goes, something happens."
"My suggestion, stay far away from him if you want a peaceful school life."
Some of the new students looked over with curiosity, others with a bit of fear.
Farther away, a small group of well-dressed youths stood together, their clothes more refined than most.
The guards beside their carriage wore matching armor, each breastplate bearing the kingdom's crest of a gryphon rearing before a broad shield, its beak open in a roar toward the sky.
One of the boys, with neat golden hair and blue eyes, watched Oliver with a faint smile.
"A merchant's son dares to approach a noble lady like that," someone beside him said in a low voice. "He really does not understand the difference in status."
"Just a low-level merchant," another added with a cold chuckle. "If he causes trouble here, he will not know how he died."
"Prince Andrew, just ignore them," a calm voice advised. "Remember our mission. We are not here to create problems. Do not get involved."
Andrew did not answer right away.
He kept his gaze on Oliver and Fiona for a moment longer, then slowly turned his head.
"Relax," he said with a light smile. "I am only watching."
The words had barely faded when the atmosphere in the plaza start to change.
A faint pressure rose in the air.
The scattered mana around them seemed to gather, as if drawn by an unseen hand.
The hairs on people's arms stood up. Some sensitive students shivered and looked around in confusion.
Then, with a sharp crack, a bolt of lightning fell from the clear sky.
It struck the ground in the center of the plaza.
There was no explosion. The lightning did not vanish.
It swirled on the spot, folding in on itself, compressing tighter and tighter until it formed the vague outline of a human figure.
A beautiful woman appeared where the lightning had gathered, her hair long and dark, her face youthful yet calm.
Her eyes swept across the plaza with the weight of someone much older than she looked.
She wore a simple robe with the academy's crest near her collar.
The entire plaza fell silent.
Some students dropped their conversations mid sentence. Even the most arrogant nobles closed their mouths and stood straighter.
The woman floated a few inches above the ground, then gently landed.
"Welcome to the Royal Academy of Asteria IX," she said, her voice spreading easily to every corner of the plaza.
"I am Helena Crowle," she continued. "Headmaster of this academy.
For the next few years, your path will cross with this place.
Some of you will rise, some of you will fall, some will find what you seek, and some will lose what you thought you had."
Her eyes swept over the crowd.
"Before anything else, we must first understand what you are capable of."
She raised one hand.
Mana gathered around her palm, then shot upward, condensing into a solid shape.
With a soft hum, a huge crystal appeared in the air above the plaza. It was transparent and faceted, slowly rotating, runes flickering within it like faint stars.
Gasps spread through the students.
"This is the Academy Assessment Crystal," Helena said. "It will measure your mana, your talent, and your suitable path."
The crystal pulsed once with light.
"Now, form lines according to the instructions of the staff.
One by one, place your hand on the crystal when it descends to you. Your future starting point will be decided from there."
Around the plaza, instructors and staff members stepped forward, calling out directions and guiding the students.
The testing had begun.