Shiki turned toward her seatmate, who had been staring out the window without acknowledging her presence. He had black hair, broad shoulders, and a school uniform that looked rumpled, as if it hadn’t been ironed before he put it on.

This seatmate was the only one who hadn’t turned to look at her when she entered the class. Perhaps there was something so fascinating outside the window that Shiki grew a bit curious about what he had been looking at.

Unfortunately, Shiki saw nothing but trees and the view of the school garden. Their classroom, located on the second floor, offered a perfect view of the beautiful school grounds from this window.

“Hello,” Shiki said, greeting her seatmate. He didn’t immediately turn to face her but slowly swiveled his body in her direction, his head following after, as though it was a great effort to tear his gaze away from the view outside the window.

He had an ordinary face, but if one looked closely, it was strikingly handsome. His thick eyebrows, sharp at the ends, resembled drawn swords. His eyes were a deep blue, bordering on purple, though not quite enough to be called violet. His lips were firmly shut, the lower lip fuller than the upper. He wasn’t overweight, but his sharp jawline gave his cheeks a slightly round appearance.

A cool breeze drifted softly through the open window, ruffling the strands of the young man’s black hair and brushing against Shiki’s face. Amid the gentle gusts of wind, Shiki caught a faint scent of vanilla—soft and calming. The aroma felt so at odds with the disheveled appearance of the boy in front of her, who seemed like someone who didn’t care about his own appearance. Did this mean he came from a wealthy family accustomed to living leisurely, or… could this fragrance naturally emanate from him?

However, instead of dwelling further on the scent, Shiki’s mind shifted to something else entirely: when did this guy even open the classroom window? Wasn’t the room temperature automatically regulated to remain ideal? The cooling system was designed to be so advanced that any open window would trigger a sensor to close it again, ensuring stable temperatures. Did he deliberately disrupt the system, or was he completely unaware of the school’s basic rules?

“Hello,” he said in a dry, uninterested tone.

Shiki’s brow furrowed; this was the first time she had ever heard someone speak to her with such a tone. Not only was his voice dripping with disinterest, but his eyes reflected the same apathy. After replying to her greeting, he turned his body back around and slowly returned his gaze to the window outside. This annoyed Shiki slightly—this brat seemed to be implying that the view outside the window was far more interesting than her beautiful face.

Clearing her dry throat, Shiki spoke with a smile, “What is your name?” The smile on her face could stop even a cold-blooded killer in their tracks. She was confident that her seatmate would immediately focus on her rather than the scenery outside the window.

But what she got was…

“???”

A tilt of the head with a face full of question marks.

“Aren’t you supposed to introduce yourself first?”

“???”

Shiki’s smile froze when she heard those words.

“You don’t know me?”

“Should I?”

“…”

“…”

There was a brief pause in their conversation.

“Unique one, aren’t you?”

“Well, if you travel far enough, you’ll meet the unique ones.”

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“…”

“…”

Another silence settled between them until…

“Pfft… hahahahaha…”

Shiki’s laughter burst out, filling the entire classroom like the melodious ringing of a bell. Her laugh made everyone turn to stare at her, stunned. Even the homeroom teacher, who had just entered, paused in the doorway, frozen in awe at the sound of such uninhibited, joyful laughter.

For the first time in her two lives, Shiki laughed freely—not out of happiness or despair, but because something was genuinely funny. She didn’t even care about the stares of others because all of her attention was fixed on her seatmate.

He looked at her with a blank expression, a bored face, entirely uninterested. While the rest of the class was captivated by Shiki’s laughter, he was the only one staring at her as if silently asking, “What are you doing?” or “Please don’t bother me.” This made Shiki laugh even harder.

The homeroom teacher finally snapped out of it and cleared their throat. “Shiki, we’re about to start homeroom. Could you please quiet down for a moment?”

“Ah… sorry, teacher… huhuhu,” Shiki said, still trying to suppress her giggles.

The homeroom teacher simply shook their head before refocusing on the class. Shiki, however, paid little attention to the homeroom announcements. She already knew who the important people in the class were, and the rest weren’t particularly interesting to her.

Her attention returned to her seatmate when he finally introduced himself in that same flat, monotone voice.

"My name is Mujun." After those four words, he sat back down, staring out the window with an expression that remained completely unchanged. Shiki almost laughed again at his relaxed and indifferent demeanor.

The name "Mujun" sounded strange for a dragonewt—it meant "contradiction" in the ancient dragon tongue. The name was more like a curse than the honorable titles usually chosen by dragonewts. As descendants of dragons, dragonewts had immense pride and arrogance, choosing grandiose names, especially among the nobility. Mujun might not be of noble lineage, but even ordinary families rarely gave names so... unconventional.

Shiki had also never heard the name "Mujun" during his time at the Procession Tower. It was likely that his deskmate hadn’t lasted long there or had lived as an insignificant figure. Yet, for some reason, Shiki felt that Mujun wasn’t someone destined for an ordinary life. Although it was their first meeting and their conversation consisted of just a few words, Shiki’s dragon instincts told her that Mujun was someone valuable—perhaps even more so than Johan, the strongest spear wielder. A strange yet inexplicable curiosity stirred within her.

As homeroom class ended, Shiki's mind was still preoccupied with figuring out how to approach Mujun. Over the years, Shiki had met countless individuals—from the most despicable, lower than trash, to the most virtuous, nobler than saints. Yet Mujun was the first to leave her completely perplexed.

There was no information to glean from her deskmate's face. His expression was blank, his eyes filled with boredom, and his dry voice seemed not only external but deeply embedded in the core of his personality. Shiki was confident in her dragon eyes' ability to detect falsehood, but Mujun appeared utterly hollow, dry, and brimming with indifference. Even if he were teleported to the Procession Tower at that very moment, Shiki doubted his expression would change.

For this reason, Shiki sent a message to Andrea to learn more about Mujun. Initially, Shiki assumed Andrea wouldn’t find much and that she might have to ask Mr. Thompson for help. However, with Mr. Thompson already swamped searching for the purple-eyed man, Shiki was reluctant to bother him unless it was absolutely necessary. Unexpectedly, in less than an hour, Andrea had sent back her findings.

Shiki openly checked her smartphone in class, ignoring the sharp glare of the homeroom teacher. In the file Andrea had sent, Mujun's entire life was laid out, from his birth to the present. But the information made Shiki frown—not because there was anything shocking, but because everything seemed so… ordinary.

Mujun came from a business family; both his parents died in an accident when he was one year old. He had no other relatives, so his parents’ wealth was managed by a family lawyer. Without corruption or issues, the lawyer handled it well, ensuring all of Mujun’s needs were met until he reached adulthood.

There was no childhood trauma; he didn’t even remember the faces of his parents. At school before attending Vespera, Mujun wasn’t an outstanding student, but neither was he a troublemaker. He was never bullied, never bullied others, and had no difficulties with academics or social life. His relationships with classmates were ordinary—easy to talk to but not close enough to be called a best friend, yet not distant enough to seem antisocial. His life was so plain and uneventful that Shiki found herself bored just reading about it.

"Did I misjudge him?" Shiki muttered, glancing at her deskmate, who was still staring out the window as if there were something fascinating there, something Shiki couldn’t see.

A faint smile crossed Shiki’s lips at the absurdity of her own thoughts. Still, with this information, approaching Mujun didn’t seem like it would be too difficult.

“Mujun, class is over. Come with me to the cafeteria. I’ll treat you to a meal!” she said, her tone commanding.

“Okay,” Mujun replied, nodding without the slightest hint of surprise.

And just like that, Shiki had gained her first loyal follower.