"This looks so good," he thought, his eyes wide as he took in the steaming plate of food. He sat at an empty table, watching the other students. They talked and laughed, their conversations a beautiful blend of murmurs. The sight of so much diversity was heartwarming, although he felt alone, he was used to this feeling.

As he was about to take a bite, Sol sauntered over, his entourage in tow. They stopped right beside him, and without a word, Sol slammed his hand down on the table. "That's my seat, greenie," he sneered.

Si-Woo's grip tightened around his fork, his knuckles white. He didn't look up. "It's free," he said, his voice steady despite his racing heart.

Sol leaned in, his breath hot against Si-Woo's cheek. "Everything in this place is for me and my friends," he whispered, his voice dripping with malice. "Remember that, or would you like to fight for it?"

Si-Woo's eyes narrowed, but he knew he couldn't afford to let his temper get the best of him. He pushed his chair back, the legs scraping against the floor, and stood up. Sol was indeed a head taller, towering over him like a mountain of arrogance. But Si-Woo had faced giants before, and he wasn't about to let this one intimidate him.

"Fine," he said through gritted teeth. "I'll find somewhere else to eat." He picked up his tray, the silverware clinking together, and began to walk away. The cafeteria was large enough that he was sure to find a quieter spot.

As he climbed the stairs to the roof, Si-Woo felt a sense of relief wash over him. He didn't need their company or their games. The air was crisp and clean up here, free from the stifling heat and noise of the cafeteria. He found a quiet corner and sat down, his legs dangling over the edge as he looked out at the floating islands and the two suns.

He took a bite of his food, savoring the burst of flavors when a tear trickled down his left cheek. He froze the food in his mouth suddenly tasteless. "Why am I crying?" he thought, his voice echoing in the silence. "I should be used to this...right Mom?" The memory of his mother's gentle smile was like a knife in his heart.

He swallowed hard, wiping his cheek with the back of his hand. The bell chimed again, signaling the start of the next class: Serein Arts. With a heavy heart, Si-Woo gathered his things and made his way to the designated classroom. The room was vast, with walls lined with crystalline structures that pulsed with a soft, ethereal light. The students were already seated, Sol's eyes on him as he entered.

A darker-skinned teacher, with hair that looked like a waterfall of shadowy silk, strode in. Her eyes met Si-Woo's, and she offered a gentle smile that seemed to hold a world of understanding. "Welcome, class," she said, her voice a melodious blend of authority and warmth. "I am Mistress Shanara, and I will be your guide through the wonders of Serein arts."

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Her words seemed to echo in the vast room, and Si-Woo felt a spark of hope. Maybe here, in this place of learning, he could find the answers he sought. He took his seat, his eyes never leaving the floating crystals that surrounded them. The class began with a lecture on the fundamental principles of serein, the very essence that fueled their abilities.

Mistress Shanara was a dynamic speaker, her hands moving gracefully as she described the intricate process of how serein was processed through the body. "It's like breathing," she explained, her eyes twinkling. "But instead of air, you draw in serein from the very fabric of this world." She paused, allowing the words to sink in before asking, "Does anyone know the specific organ that is responsible for this?"

The class was quiet, the only sound was the occasional flutter of pages as students checked their notes. Then, she called on Sol, the burly, burgundy-headed boy who had been glaring at Si-Woo since their encounter in the hallway. "Go ahead, Sol," she said, her smile encouraging.

Sol stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. "It's the...uh...the...uh," he stumbled over his words, his face reddening as he struggled to remember. The room grew tense, the weight of his silence stretching out like a tightrope. Si-Woo felt a little embarrassed at Sol's discomfort, but he knew better than to let it show.

Without a moment's hesitation, Si-Woo raised his hand. "Ma'am," he called out, his voice clear and steady. "It's our serein Dantian core, located in our chests."

Mistress Shanara's eyes lit up. "Very good, Si-Woo," she said, nodding her approval. "Your knowledge is already quite advanced for a new student."

Sol's face twisted into a scowl, and he sat down heavily, his chair groaning under his weight. His cheeks were a dull red, and his eyes bore into Si-Woo-like twin drills. The rest of the class murmured, casting glances between the two of them.

"The serein Dantian," she proclaimed, her voice undulating gently, "is the foundational seed of your meridian channels that extend across your spirit. It is the nexus where the energy of this realm circulates, linking you to the quintessence of Ondur. As you approach awakening, you will perceive the expansion, movement, and purity of serein."

Si-Woo nodded, his mind racing with the implications. It was the same concept they had discussed in the interactive learning sessions with the crystal device. The knowledge filled him with a quiet confidence that washed away the fear of the morning's encounter.

...

As the bell signaling the end of the school day echoed through the academy, Si-Woo gathered his books and made his way to the bathroom. The halls were a river of students, all eager to leave the confines of the school. He pushed through the crowd, feeling a sense of urgency to be alone for a moment. The bathroom was empty, the silence a sharp set off to the cacophony outside. He leaned against the cool marble sink, staring into the mirror. His reflection was pale, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion.

The sound of the door opening made him jump, and he turned to see Sol and his entourage saunter in. The room grew colder, the air thick with tension. Sol smirked, his eyes raking over Si-Woo's bruised and battered form. "Still sticking around, I see," he said, his voice a sneer. "Thought you'd have learned your lesson by now."