Tuesday afternoon.
The corridor of the experimental building was brighter than usual.
The curtains were still only half drawn.
Light was cut into long, narrow rectangles, falling across the gray floor.
The surface had been worn smooth by repeated footsteps.
Fine dust floated in the air.
No wind.
The particles hung in the light, as if frozen.
The announcement board remained.
The curve snapshot of Fifth Year No. 31 had not been removed.
"Second-Stage State Confirmed."
The text was still clear.
People passing by would unconsciously slow down.
Their eyes would sweep over the stabilized interval of the curve.
Only then would they move on.
Inside the training field, grouping had already begun.
Fourth Years and Sixth Years stood separately.
The instructor stood at the center.
"Maintain your breathing."
"Don't rush."
The tone was steady.
Fourth Year students took turns deploying their abilities.
The air rippled slightly at different points.
Some held for ten seconds.
Some for twelve.
Some collapsed at the ninth.
When collapse came, the air rebounded.
The rebound was irregular.
Like a membrane suddenly punctured.
A quiet intake of breath came from nearby.
"Try again."
The instructor did not reprimand.
Only recorded.
"If they were at the second stage, it wouldn't be like this."
Someone spoke in a low voice.
"Right."
"They just need to hold it down."
Hold it down.
The phrase repeated.
Seven stood at the edge.
His fingers hung at his sides.
His gaze fixed on the boundary of the air at the moment of collapse.
The structure of Fifth Year No. 31 that day had been regulated.
These collapses were natural destabilizations.
Different.
Yet placed side by side.
"Just hold it down."
The voice came again.
A simple conclusion placed over a complex phenomenon.
Seven said nothing.
—
Wednesday noon.
There were more people lining up in the cafeteria than usual.
The topic remained the same.
"I heard Fifth Year No. 31 can now anticipate fluctuations."
"Really?"
"They say half a second in advance."
"That's basically future sight."
Future sight.
The term had already taken shape.
Even without formal naming.
Fifth Year No. 31 sat down with his tray.
People immediately gathered around.
"Do you see anything special?"
He shook his head.
"No images."
"It's just less chaotic."
"Less chaotic?"
"Yeah."
The explanation was simple.
But others expanded it for him.
"That means a higher layer."
"Clearer structure."
"That's evolution."
Evolution.
The term was reinforced again.
Seven sat by the window.
His reflection steady in the glass.
A spoon touched the rim of a bowl.
A soft sound.
He heard the term future sight.
His breathing did not change.
Future sight implied stretched time.
But Fifth Year No. 31's structure had no temporal extension.
Only compression.
Only stabilization.
The concept was expanding.
The ability was not.
—
Thursday afternoon.
The social area grew more crowded.
The grass had been worn into visible paths.
Groups of students sat on benches.
The discussion became more concrete.
"If second stage is stable compression, then would third stage be expansion?"
"What do you mean by expansion?"
"Larger range."
"So stronger control?"
"Right."
The reasoning flowed.
No one objected.
Ros stood under the shade of a tree.
More excited than usual.
"Seventh Year was just established."
"And now there's second stage."
"The academy is accelerating."
He looked at Seven.
"Right?"
Seven stood at the edge of light and shadow.
"It is accelerating."
The reply was calm.
Ros smiled.
"Then we can stay here longer."
There was genuine happiness in his tone.
"If the stages rise faster, everyone will stay."
Seven glanced at him.
Said nothing.
Ros didn't notice the silence.
Still excited.
"Then we won't be separated."
Someone nearby cut in.
"Who are you unwilling to part with?"
Light laughter.
Ros didn't deny it.
Just smiled.
Seven looked away.
77 stood not far off.
He wasn't smiling.
He was watching Seven.
His gaze lingered.
"What do you think?"
He suddenly asked.
"The second stage."
Seven turned.
Their eyes met.
"It's a state."
"That's all?"
"Mm."
77 didn't respond immediately.
He stayed silent for a few seconds.
"Then what do you want to do?"
The question wasn't spoken loudly.
It remained between them.
Seven did not answer.
Wind passed over the grass.
Carrying a faint rustling sound.
—
Saturday afternoon.
The outer social area was livelier than midweek.
The coffee machine hissed frequently.
Paper cups were taken again and again.
The discussion no longer centered only on Fifth Year No. 31.
It expanded.
"If second stage allows stable compression—"
"Would mind reading become clearer?"
"Would it lose boundaries?"
Boundaries.
The word was introduced.
"If there are no boundaries, wouldn't it be unlimited reading?"
"That's dangerous."
"But also powerful."
Laughter mixed with seriousness.
They discussed extremes.
While assuming the foundation.
Assuming stages would continue rising.
Fifth Year No. 31 was invited into the discussion.
"Do you think the second stage has boundaries?"
He thought for a moment.
"Yes."
"I'm just not there yet."
The answer was cautious.
But others extended it.
"Then it means it can go higher."
"Right."
The conclusion formed again.
Seven stood at the perimeter.
He did not step closer.
He closed his eyes briefly.
His perception spread.
Layers of air became clear.
The tension within Fifth Year No. 31 remained.
Compressed.
Stable.
No sign of elevation.
No sign of decline.
Only stability.
Believed.
Named.
Given direction.
He opened his eyes.
The discussion grew louder.
"What is true ability?"
Someone asked.
"Farther."
"Faster."
"Higher stage."
Answers overlapped.
No one mentioned stability itself.
Stability was treated as a transition.
Not a result.
—
Sunday evening.
The cafeteria lights were warm.
The crowd was dense.
Fifth Year No. 31 sat at the center.
His expression calm.
Already used to being surrounded.
"When's the next demonstration?"
"Will it be public?"
"Will there be another breakthrough?"
Questions came one after another.
He only nodded or shook his head.
"Still training."
"No new changes."
The answers were simple.
But the atmosphere did not cool.
"Just a matter of time."
Someone said.
"Right."
"If the stage exists, it will continue."
The logic completed itself.
Seven sat by the window.
Night settled beyond the glass.
The lights remained steady.
The discussions continued.
77 walked over and sat across from him.
"They believe it now."
His voice was low.
Seven did not deny it.
"Is that a bad thing?"
"It's not about good or bad."
77 paused.
"It's direction."
"What are you thinking?"
Seven looked up.
His gaze calm.
"Boundaries."
Just one word.
77 frowned.
"Aren't boundaries meant to be broken?"
Seven did not answer.
His fingertip tapped lightly against the table.
Extremely soft.
The air remained flat.
The noise unchanged.
The second stage had become consensus.
A symbol.
The beginning of an era.
Ros laughed in the distance.
Discussing future possibilities.
Fifth Year No. 31 was treated as proof.
Belief covered doubt.
Tension pressed beneath structure.
No one noticed.
No one stopped.
Night fully settled.
The cafeteria lights remained.
The crowd dispersed and gathered again.
The topic continued.
Seven stood.
The chair scraped lightly against the floor.
He walked toward the exit.
His back steady.
No acceleration.
No pause.
The word boundary remained clear in his mind.
Not stage.
Not evolution.
But the structure itself.
Laughter still lingered in the social area.
Belief had already taken shape.