After picking up my student ID, handbook, and keys from the reception desk, I made my way to the dormitory. It was a short stroll from the main building. About a five-minute walk give or take.

As I approached the dormitory entrance, I couldn't help but feel a sense of apprehension creeping over me. This was the beginning of a new chapter. I would be sleeping, studying, and navigating the complexities of teenage life within these walls.

"I wonder how big the rooms are."

Not wanting to take the stairs, I stepped into the elevator and clicked to go to the third floor. I was going to be living in room 304.

While I waited for the elevator to reach my floor, I decided to take a quick look at the school handbook. Given what I knew about this school, I figured getting familiar with how things functioned wasn't a bad idea.

The words seemed to blur together as I flipped through the opening pages of the booklet. School regulations, dormitory rules, meal times in the cafeteria—all laid out in black and white, a snapshot of life within the hallowed halls of this institute.

It didn't take long for me to realize that this school functioned much like any other school. There were daily classes, extracurricular activities, and academic expectations. However, there was one significant difference that caught my attention. The Crown System.

Crowns were the currency that governed every transaction and interaction within school grounds. Students could use their crowns to purchase various items and services, from school supplies to small snacks. It was a system reminiscent of the real world, where money dictated one's choices and opportunities. From what I gathered, one crown was the equivalent of one euro.

Fortunately, essentials like food, toiletries, and the school uniform, were items that were provided free of charge.

That wasn't the only difference. Unlike the outside world, where money flowed freely, the distribution of crowns seemed to be carefully regulated. Every month, students would receive a staggering allowance of 1000 crowns, which wasn't surprising, considering the funding the academy received. However, there was one caveat. Depending on one's performance, that allowance could either flourish or dwindle.

I stopped reading the moment I saw the word "performance" written in bold letters. Scanning ahead, I sought clarification on what the school meant by that word but came up empty-handed.

How peculiar...

The rules surrounding the allocation of crowns were frustratingly vague. It felt like the school was purposely leaving much of this matter open to interpretation. The question was why?

It was no wonder the students who graduated from this school were highly sought after. This school had a system in place to teach students not only how to survive but to thrive in the real world. Unlike most schools that had rules in place to shelter children from the harsh reality of the real world, this one challenged us to face it head-on.

As the elevator doors slid open, I tucked the handbook under my arm and stepped into the corridor.

This isn't good...

The corridor was filled with students. Some of them were chatting, while others were moving their belongings into their new rooms. Since everyone was busy, nobody seemed to notice my arrival.

With hesitant steps, I navigated through the throng of students, my heart pounding in my chest with each passing moment. I wasn't sure how to act. It was my first time being surrounded by so many people my age.

Feeling the weight of uncertainty pressing down on me, I kept my head low, hoping to blend into the background.

300... 302... 304!

After what felt like an eternity, I finally spotted my room and breathed a sigh of relief. Peace and quiet were within reach.

Rushing over to my door, I inserted the key into the lock, the metal turning with a satisfying click. However, before I could step inside, a voice pierced through the air, shattering the safety bubble I'd built for myself.

"Guess we'll be neighbors, huh?!"

I froze, my hand still poised over the door handle. Someone was talking to me—a girl, by the sound of it.

Turning slowly, I found myself face to face with a blonde-haired girl with blue eyes. The girl wore a playful smile, her ponytail swaying as she nodded toward me. She was cute. Very cute.

"Oh, hi," I managed to stammer out. "Yeah, I guess we're neighbors."

Her room was right across from mine.

The girl tilted her head, studying me with a curious expression. "I'm Violet, by the way. What's your name?"

I blinked, caught off guard by her question. I hadn't expected her to introduce herself so quickly.

"I'm James..."

"Nice to meet you, James," she said, extending her hand in greeting.

I hesitated for a moment before tentatively shaking her hand. The warmth of her touch sent a jolt of electricity through my veins.

"So, where are you from?" she asked.

Violet's accent was unmistakably American.

"I'm from Korea."

"Oh, wow... I've always wanted to visit Korea. It's a beautiful country from what I've heard."

Her words flowed effortlessly, each syllable punctuated with a sense of confidence that I could only dream of possessing.

"Yeah, it's okay," I responded. "What about you? Where are you from?"

Seeing that she was asking questions, I didn’t see why I couldn’t do the same.

"I'm from New York. It's a nice city to live in, but the traffic is awful."

"I see..."

"Hey, is English your first language?" Violet suddenly asked.

Why is she asking me this? Is my English bad?

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"Uh, no, actually," I replied.

Violet smiled. "That's impressive. I never would've guessed English wasn't your first language since you speak it so perfectly!"

"I've had a lot of practice. I started learning it when I was young."

"So, I'm guessing Korean is your first language?"

"Yes, it is."

At a glance, it appeared she was asking me these questions simply out of curiosity. However, this conversation was beginning to feel odd. I had the feeling there was something else driving her to ask these questions. Unfortunately, I had no way of figuring out what that was. Reading social cues, especially from a girl my age, was something I had never really done. In that department, I was an amateur.

"That's so cool!" she exclaimed. "I've always wanted to learn Korean. Maybe you can teach me some words sometime?"

I nodded, the idea of teaching her Korean both daunting and strangely appealing. "Yeah, sure. I'd be happy to help."

Just as Violet was about to ask me another question, she seemed to sense my discomfort and changed direction.

"Have you had a chance to explore the school yet?"

I shook my head, grateful for the change in topic. "Not really. I just got here."

She nodded understandingly. "Well, if you need someone to show you around, I'd be happy to help."

"Wait, aren't you a first-year too?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Then how are you familiar with the school already?"

"Well, actually, I've visited the school before," Violet explained. "I've had some time to snoop around."

"Oh, okay.."

That explained how she knew her way around the school. Still, given the size of this place, it wouldn't surprise me if there were still parts she hadn't explored yet.

"So, what do you say? Are you going to take me up on my offer?"

"S-sure." As much as I wanted to turn down her offer, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Something was stopping me. An invisible force.

"How about we meet after the entrance ceremony? I'm planning to head to the mall after."

"Sounds good to me."

"Okay, then. See you later, James," Violet said, slipping back into her room.

With that, my first interaction with an ordinary person my age came to an agonizing end.

* * *

It didn't take long for me to realize I wasn't a fan of crowds. Or noise.

I winced at how loud the room was becoming. There were about a hundred first-years gathered in the theater. They all seemed excited as they chatted away, some with friends, some with people they'd just met.

As I glanced around the theater, I realized I was one of the very few students sitting by themselves. Which made me feel depressed.

I couldn't shake the feeling of loneliness creeping in. Not even a day had gone by, and it was clear I was lagging behind everyone else. Considering it was only orientation day, I wondered how so many first-years had managed to make friends already.

When did they even find the time?

It was an understatement to say this felt strange. I wasn't used to being behind. I couldn't recall a single instance in my life where I hadn't excelled. At least until now.

I cast a furtive glance around the room, noting the clusters of students chatting animatedly around me. I briefly considered the idea of striking up a conversation with a small group of three students behind me, but the fear of rejection held me back.

What if they didn't want me there? What if I said something stupid? What if they thought I was rude for interrupting?

High school life was proving to be a battleground where my years of experience seemed futile. The skills I had honed, and the knowledge I'd amassed, all felt inadequate against the whirlwind of teenage dynamics.

I guess I really am a loser, after all...

Fed up with the self-deprecating thoughts that crowded my mind, I shifted my attention to my feet. They had been bothering me for quite some time. More specifically, the dress shoes I wore were what bothered me. Unfortunately, they were part of the uniform.

I still wasn't sure whether I liked the school uniform or not. The uniform consisted of a black blazer, grey dress pants, a white dress shirt, and a yellow tie with black stripes. It was a far cry from the kind of clothes I was accustomed to, but I supposed it was a small price to pay for blending in with the rest of the student body.

Just as I was beginning to grow bored, my attention was suddenly drawn to the podium as a man stepped onto it. He was dressed in a black and white suit. Even though he appeared to be in his mid-fifties, there was a vitality about him that was hard to ignore. It probably had something to do with his incredibly large frame.

At first, it seemed like most of the students hadn't noticed him. But as he approached the microphone, the chatter in the room gradually died down until the only sound was the shuffling of feet. I couldn't help but be impressed. Without uttering a word, the man had silenced the room.

"Good morning, students. My name is Takeru Watanabe, and I am the principal of Crestwood Academy."

As his words reverberated off the mic, a thick and powerful wave of mana swept across the room. The students' eyes widened in fear, whispers of disbelief rippling through the crowd. It was evident he took his role as principal seriously, and at that moment, everyone understood—he was not someone you wanted to cross.

So, this is the power of an 8th Circle Mage...

"I would like to extend a warm welcome to all of our first-year students," Principal Watanabe began, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. "You have all chosen to embark on a journey of learning and discovery, and I can assure you that Crestwood Academy will provide you with the tools and resources you need to succeed."

Knowing the obscene amount of resources this school had access to, I expected nothing less.

"As you begin your journey here at our school, it's important to remember the rich history and tradition that surrounds this institution."

The principal paused, allowing his words to sink in before continuing.

"Crestwood Academy has a legacy that spans generations—a legacy built on the principles of excellence, integrity, and innovation. It is one of the most prestigious academies in the world, if not the most prestigious. The strongest mages this world has ever seen have all sat where you are sitting now..."

It was safe to say, he wasn't exaggerating. Crestwood was arguably the most prestigious high school in the world. The students who graduated from this institute usually went on to become high-ranked mages, professional sports players, and even political leaders. As long as you graduated from this school with honors, you were practically guaranteed a successful future. That being said, graduating with honors was by no means an easy task. If it was, then this school wouldn't be as renowned.

"Having the privilege of attending this school comes with a great responsibility. As students of Crestwood Academy, you are not only representatives of yourselves but also of this esteemed institution. You must strive for excellence in everything you do, both inside and outside the classroom."

The principal spoke with an infectious fervor. I looked around the room and saw looks of determination on the faces of the other first years. His words seemed to have inspired them.

"As you navigate your time at Crestwood, I urge you to embrace the opportunities that come your way. Take advantage of the world-class education and resources at your disposal. Challenge yourselves to think critically, to question the status quo, and to push the boundaries of what is possible."

"Remember that you are not alone," Principal Watanabe said. "The faculty and staff of Crestwood Academy are here to support you every step of the way."

The principal took a step back and slowly scanned the crowd of students once more. After a few seconds, he adjusted his tie and smiled.

"I've never been a fan of long speeches, so I will now leave you in the hands of one of the finest students in our school, the student council president... Please give her a warm welcome."

As the principal walked off the stage, a wave of applause rippled through the theater, echoing off the walls. I joined in, clapping politely along with the rest of the students.

For some odd reason, something about the way Principal Watanabe carried himself felt strangely familiar to me. He reminded me of someone I knew. Or to be more specific, someone I used to know.

Zero...

My thoughts were still swirling with the weight of some old memories when I noticed the theater had turned quiet once again. Something was up. Especially with the boys...

It wasn't until I caught sight of the long strands of silver hair that I understood why.