The majority of students were heading the same way we were, most likely toward the dorms, where we’re assigned to live in pairs. Dan’s my flatmate. We’d already dropped off our stuff before going to the assembly. I noticed some students had split off to grab food at the canteen or shop for supplies. Once I realised our room was missing a few essentials, I decided to head to the shops. I spotted Dan in the distance and walked over.

I approached Dan, who looked as unenthusiastic as ever. “Hey, you look dead as usual.”

“Yeah,” he replied flatly. “It was boring. And my teacher's... well, let’s just say she’s an unusual one. School’s really just a bunch of meaningless events lined up, sold to us as if there’s some big lesson to it. They say it’s supposed to prepare us for the'real world,’ but all it really does is train you to sit in a room and watch the clock tick.”

I raised an eyebrow as he gave me a sidelong glare, then sighed.

“Don’t ask for the whole manifesto, man. Anyway, we need some stuff for the dorm—basics like toothbrushes, snacks, toothpaste, you get the idea. Just come along.”

“Oh, okay,” he replied, falling in step with me.

We walked into the convenience store, the fluorescent lights casting a sterile glow over the aisles. I picked up a few essentials, while Dan headed off toward the snacks. Standard routine.

As I turned a corner, I noticed Dan had stopped near the shampoo aisle, eyeing one of the sisters from earlier—Celia Princer. She stood alone, intently scanning the shelves, her expression all calculation and distaste. She didn’t seem to notice him at first, entirely absorbed in her selection.

Dan, never one to hold back an uninvited opinion, wandered over and glanced into her basket. “You’re going with that one?” he asked, his voice neutral but carrying that familiar hint of dry indifference. He picked up another bottle from the shelf. “There’s better. But I guess if that’s what you’re looking for... ”

Celia glanced up, clearly irritated by the intrusion. “And who asked for your opinion?” Her voice was icy, each word delivered with razor-sharp precision.

Dan just shrugged, putting the bottle back without missing a beat. “Just figured if you’re going to spend money, might as well make it worth it,” he replied, his tone casual, almost as if he hadn’t even noticed her irritation.

She narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms with a look that could freeze a lake. “Not everyone wants unsolicited advice from strangers who think they know better. Especially when it’s irrelevant.”

Dan didn’t flinch, his expression flat and unreadable. “Right. Strangers, exactly.” He glanced briefly at her basket, then back at her, a barely there smirk in place. “Anyway, forget it. Enjoy your shopping.”

There was a moment of tense silence as she seemed to search for a response, her lips pressing together tightly. “Maybe try focusing on your own shopping instead of offering unnecessary critiques,” she replied coolly, her voice laced with disdain.

Dan met her stare, utterly unfazed. “Believe me, I would if I could. But sometimes I get this strange urge to give unsolicited advice. Bad habit.” He gave a shrug, his face as calm as ever.

With a slight roll of her eyes, she turned back to the shelf, clearly finished with the conversation. But as we turned to leave, she muttered, “You’re strange. Clearly, social skills are... not your strong suit.”

Dan paused, glancing over his shoulder with a quiet, amused chuckle. “It’s nice when people notice, but when its from a loner like you, I dont want to hear it.”

We took that as our cue to leave, gathering the last of our items and heading to the checkout. Outside, Dan gave another low chuckle, looking back toward the store. “Guess it’s the same no matter the world—people just don’t like being told they’re wrong.”

“Or maybe they just don’t like you,” I replied.

Dan shrugged, looking completely unfazed. “Doesn’t change much. Let’s get back to the dorms.”

“Fine by me,” I said, as we left the store and headed back, leaving Celia’s frosty glare far behind.

The next day rolled around, and I hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. The mattress was… strange, to put it lightly. It was made from something that felt like memory foam, but instead of being comfortable, it felt like I was slowly sinking into it, like the mattress itself was trying to swallow me whole. Not exactly the kind of rest I’d planned on.

As soon as I sat down next to Miria, I noticed the class had already split off into friend groups, like everyone instinctively knew where they belonged. Meanwhile, I was just drifting on the outskirts, with no real connections to anchor me. Not that it’s surprising—I’m not exactly radiating a “come talk to me” vibe. Still, seeing everyone else settle into their groups just makes my own isolation stand out more.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Out of nowhere, Miria’s voice cut through my thoughts.

"Wow, you really are pathetic; you know that, right?”

“Yeah, well, you’re alone too,” I shot back, barely turning.

She gave a slight, unimpressed sigh.

“I’m alone because I choose to be. You’re alone because you’re incapable of making friends.”

I coughed slightly, muttering, “Loner,” maybe a bit too loudly. Her gaze flicked to me, sharp and unamused, and I quickly decided to drop it.

Just as I was about to settle back, the door swung open, and Miss Nyx strutted in with her usual feline swagger, a playful grin on her face. With a flick of her wrist, she waved at the class, her tail swishing behind her as she balanced on the desk.

“All right, everyone!” she purred, tapping the chalk against the board. “Today’s a magical journey through algebra! Get ready, because numbers don’t bite—but I just might if you don’t pay attention.” Her mischievous smile was a warning, even if she said it like a joke.

Miria barely reacted, already jotting down notes with her usual focus. Meanwhile, I leaned back, wondering just how unpredictable today’s lesson would get with Miss Nyx in charge.

The lesson finally wrapped up, Miss Nyx’s voice trailing off as the bell chimed. She gave a light-hearted wave as she sauntered out, barely acknowledging the chaos she left behind. Around me, students looked more like they’d just left a casual club meeting than a class, still chatting and on their phones.

Miria closed her notebook with a faint dislike. “This school is incredibly indulgent,” she muttered, her voice tinged with annoyance. “The teacher doesn’t even enforce basic discipline. Allowing students to talk, sleep, or read unrelated books during class—how exactly are we supposed to improve in an environment like this?”

“Guess that’s the way it is here. Seems like they’re more interested in letting us do our own thing,” I replied, leaning back in my seat.

“Letting us do our own thing?” She shook her head, unimpressed. “It’s not freedom; it’s negligence. There’s no point to school if the teachers don’t actually teach and students don’t bother learning. Just an excuse to waste time, really.”

After what felt like an eternity, the day finally came to a close. I navigated through the chaotic hallways, dodging groups of students who seemed far too engrossed in their own conversations to notice me. Eventually, I made my way back to the dorms, the familiar hallway stretching out before me.

As I pushed the door open, I found Dan already lounging on his bed, looking like he’d been there for ages, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “So, how was your day? Did you finally manage to charm your way into a friend group?” he asked, the teasing lilt in his voice.

I dropped my bag onto the floor and rolled my eyes. “Let’s just say I’m still very much alone. The class is just as chaotic as you’d expect, and the teachers aren’t much help either.”

Dan nodded, seemingly unfazed by my lack of social progress. “That’s classic. You know, I was thinking about the allowance they give us every month. It’s kind of ridiculous, isn’t it? They practically throw money at us as if it’ll somehow make up for the lack of actual guidance. What do you think?”

“Honestly? It feels like a bribe to keep us quiet,” I replied, flopping down onto my bed. “I get that they want us to be self-sufficient, but they could at least offer some real support instead of just cash.”

“Right?” Dan leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head. “It’s like they expect us to figure everything out ourselves while they stand back and watch the chaos unfold. I’m just waiting for the moment someone turns that money into snacks or something equally pointless.”

I appreciate the familiar banter. “Well, at least we can count on each other to make it through this ridiculousness.”

“I’m going to save mine up, and you’re probably doing the same, aren't you?”

I just gave him a simple nod, and Dan rested on his bed. After a moment of silence, Dan decided to probe a little deeper. “But you ever wonder why they put that domain over the school? It feels like they’re trying to keep us from using our gifts.”

My expression shifted slightly, thoughtful. “It’s pretty clear they want to control the environment. Without magic, it levels the playing field. Everyone has to rely on their skills and intelligence instead.”

“Yeah, but it’s more than just fairness,” Dan replied, feeling the frustration bubble up again. “It’s like they’re saying, ‘We don’t trust you.’ I mean, this place is supposed to be a school for cultivating magic users, right? What’s the point of training us if we can’t actually use our powers?”

“Maybe it’s not about trust. Think about it—if everyone could just unleash their gifts, things could get chaotic really quickly. They need to maintain order. But I see your point; it feels contradictory to what they’re trying to achieve.”

“Exactly! We’re here to learn how to harness our magic, not to be forced into a box. If they want us to be strong mages, shouldn’t they let us practice in a controlled environment? It’s like they expect us to grow without actually giving us the chance.”

I nodded slowly, my eyes focused on the ground as he considered my words. “It does force us to develop our skills without relying on magic, which is a different kind of growth. But it feels more like a test than a true education.”

“A test, sure, but it feels like they’re setting us up for failure. What’s the point of being at a magic school if we can’t even practice magic? It’s frustrating.”

“True. I guess they believe that true strength comes from overcoming challenges without shortcuts. They want us to focus on strategy and creativity rather than just brute force.”

“But it’s a balancing act, isn’t it? They could find a way to challenge us without taking away our abilities entirely. I just hope we can find a way to use our powers outside this bubble. It feels like a waste otherwise.”

Dan shrugged, his gaze steady. “We’ll figure it out. Just remember, the real challenge is adapting to the circumstances we’re given. Besides, there’s always a way around obstacles, and sometimes the most unexpected paths lead to growth.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” I conceded. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t get too boring in the meantime.”