Within a wide hallway stood groups of students, parted down the middle to make way for a lone boy to pass through. Their stares sparked with interest, watching his every move as he stepped across the brightly polished floors.

His dark leathery shoes clicked along with his stride, his long legs and graceful proportions complimenting his kempt uniform. He had a head full of lavender that draped slightly past his shoulder blades. Certain strands of his hair would curl up, resembling the appearance of a blooming flower.

"Who is that?" a female student whispered curiously.

Her friend added onto that with the same intrigued tone, "Is he a first year? A new student?"

"I don't know, but he's absolutely..." With skin as clear as glass, long feminine lashes, and a demeanor full of grace — there was only one word that could describe him, "Gorgeous!"

A flock of girls squealed in delight from beholding the sight of the boy before them, admiring his appearance from afar as he passed by. He was most definitely a noble, based on the way he looked alone. A handsome individual made them fall under the assumption that they were of a higher ranked family, and the bystanders began to take their guesses.

"What family do you think he's from?" a different student asked. He made an effort to be discreet, leaning in closely to a nearby mutual.

His friend seemed insouciant from the frolicking. "Isn't it obvious?" they whispered back, "He's from the Faithstone family."

The Faithstones. They were reputable for their long line of powerful magicians and their academic success for their encyclopedic knowledge of magic. But most undoubtedly due to a strong magic user that led the empire to sovereignty — Lanthus Faithstone.

He was the one who aided the crown prince in his revolution to overthrow the tyrant monarch by serving as the strategist. With his power and the prince's influence, they retrieved the throne back and recreated the empire into what it was today.

"He's nothing but a legendary figure now, since he passed away a century ago."

"So, he's a Faithstone? Doesn't that mean he has a high affinity for mana?"

The boy continued to walk down the hallway, not sure how to feel about his peers shamelessly gossiping about him within his vicinity. Although it was true that he was a descendant of Lanthus, he was considered as a deadbeat of the family for not being able to use magic.

Everyone is born with some sort of percentage of mana in their bodies. However, ever since he was young, he had been told that his affinity for mana was a concerning low. Therefore, he wasn't able to use magic at all.

Having little to no mana meant that he had to suffer from health issues, as well. During his youth, he was prone to receiving nosebleeds, headaches, and being bedridden due to it.

Despite it all, it didn't stop him from studying it. He delved into topics such as magic theory, brewing potions, and learning magic scrolls. Although in the beginning, it was typical for him to cause a ruckus in the brewery that his servants had to be on standby outside the door.

Because of his condition, most of his education took place in the comfort of his home.

Until today, that is...

In an extravagant lecture room stood a large older man with a scruffy short beard. His gray-colored eyes barely glossed over the class, as if he didn't want to be there at all. He placed his palm over the wooden lectern, leaning against it.

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"Alright, now listen up. We have a transfer student that will be joining us today," he grumbled, scratching his chin nonchalantly, "Welcome him warmly, as he'll be here with us for the rest of the semester."

One of the students sitting amongst the elongated desks spun their head to their partner to verify if they had heard right.

"What? Someone's enrolling in the middle of the school year?"

Another chimed in, not having any expectations for the new addition to their advisory, "I bet you that they're gonna be some lousy dolt..."

The door clacked opened, a pair of straight legs stepping into the room. Despite the casual entrance, it seemed more grand due to the picturesque head that the body carried above its shoulders. The atmosphere seemed to have resuscitated, imagery of dewy roses surrounding the person who had just walked in. His lustrous shoes carried him onto the podium, presenting his charming face to the class.

With a polite smile, the lavender-haired boy greeted his peers, "Hello, I am Lysian from the Faithstone family." He slightly tilted his head down before placing a hand over his chest, a common formality to show respect, "Due to health issues, I've never joined the academy before until now. But I look forward to attending here with you all from here on out."

The students were perplexed by his visuals, quickly mumbling to one another in surprise, "What the hell? Bro's gorgeous..."

"Faithstone? I've heard of them!"

Lysian was slightly surprised by how much attention he was receiving, but it was to be expected since he was showing up out of the blue mid-school year.

His ruby eyes observed the audience from where he stood, finding a particular person that caught his attention.

A male student with fiery red hair and tips as dark as charcoal was intensely glaring down at Lysian with his ashen pupils. He sat a few desks away from the front, his chin resting over his palm in an arrogant manner. Even from afar, Lysian could feel his hostility prick at his skin.

On his first day, Lysian was already feeling uneasy about how the rest of the year would go for him.

• • •

After his classes were over, Lysian walked out of the lecture room and was met with a familiar face. He was an older student with lusciously long white hair that was loosely tied by his shoulders, lilac-colored eyes glinting down at Lysian. He wore a uniform different from the other students in the hallway, depicting that he was a third year and a part of the student council.

"Well, if it isn't my little cousin. How has your first day been so far for you, Lysi?" the older boy mused, a soft smile on his face.

Lysian was surprised to see family after having been surrounded by unacquainted faces. "O-Orpheus!" he exclaimed, watching him approach closer. "How did you know where to find me?" he asked curiously, masking his expression of worry.

"I have my ways," Orpheus replied back vaguely, standing a few inches taller than him.

Like white noise, students began chattering amongst themselves at the sight. One of them whispered, "Whoa, isn't that Orpheus Moonsworn?"

"What's he doing here?" another asked, their voice filled with excitement.

It seemed as though Orpheus was some sort of celebrity on campus. Perhaps it was because he came from a family of well-known business owners, famous for their tourist attraction vineyard and high-quality wine.

Although it was a lot more childish, another reason was him being a handsome individual. The two surely were related, as the genetics revolving their beauty was distinguishable.

The relationship between the two boys was complicated. They were cousins, and they've known each other since childhood. Yet, Lysian couldn't help but feel as though Orpheus had always held a grudge against him. He didn't blame him if he did, as he already knew where he was faulty within the family.

Unlike him, Orpheus had a strong affinity for magic. Despite not having the Faithstone surname, he still had its blood running through him. Amongst the latest generation of Faithstones, he had the most potential of extending their legacy. Lysian knew of this well; he was always compared to him growing up.

Orpheus leaned in closely to Lysian, a flat smile still plastered upon his face. "A bit curious as to why someone with no mana would enroll in a magic school. But I suppose all of your hard work cooped up in your little library really paid off, hm?"

He went in for a brief embrace, his lips drawing near Lysian's ear slowly, "Don't tarnish Faithstone more than you already have, Lysian."

Lysian's eyebrows raised in shock, now understanding the reasoning behind his cousin's sudden display of 'affection.' He just wanted to keep up with appearances, all while warning him of his standing at the academy.

Once Orpheus pulled away, he kept a hand over Lysian's shoulder to pat it kindly. "Welcome to Liberium Academy. If you have any trouble adjusting, feel free to rely on me," he grinned, his grip on him tightening.

Over Lysian's face was a forced smile that bit back his irritation, returning the same energy. He decided to play along with his act, planting his feet down onto the ground to prevent himself from being shaken further.

With gritted teeth, Lysian replied back, "Thanks, Phia. Good to be here."