Isolde led the six newcomers through the sprawling, city-like school to a building complex divided into two sections: the right for the girls' dorm, and the left for the boys'.

  At the center, they approached the registration office.

  It resembled a hall with a high dome, but it was just an office in the city-like school.

  Inside, rows of shelves held archives, with a single desk at the end.

  Seated behind the desk, surrounded by countless files, was a beautiful woman who didn’t appear entirely human, elf, or beastman.

  Her ears were long—much longer than an elf’s. Her hair gleamed emerald, like crystallized gemstones. Her eyes shifted between amethyst and emerald, though tired, with dark halos beneath them.

  The students stood in stunned silence.

  "Teacher Essia," Isolde called.

  Essia snapped her head up from the piles of papers, studied Isolde for a moment, then turned to the children.

  Mojian spoke first. "Lady Fairy, your beauty is unmatched. You’ve blessed this lowly one’s eyes."

  A fairy?

  Fairies disappeared after the calamity. No one knew if any were still alive.

  But everyone ignored Mojian.

  Isolde registered their names. Those without a surname were given the school’s name— a tradition established by Teacher Aaron.

  Among the six, Jean and Nina received the surname Badass, as they had no other place to belong.

  The school disregarded race and clan. For children with unknown origins, it offered a home, a family, and a sense of belonging.

  Next came the introductions. Sia, a High Elf, stood out with her golden hair, like pure gold strands, and eyes green as the forest’s vitality.

  Two beastmen followed, visibly shaken. Isolde explained they’d been rescued by a wandering teacher. The first, Darvok, had long black furry ears and a round face. His blood-red eyes carried a haunting fear. The second, Zeroth, had triangular brown ears, a rough face, and amber eyes. Though not siblings, their shared circumstances bound them together.

  Unlike Roman, they both had normal legs and no tails.

  Finally, there was Mojian, who became Jean’s worst nightmare. By some cruel twist of fate, Mojian was assigned as Jean’s roommate.

  Jean shuddered at the thought of hearing Mojian’s voice and speeches every morning and night. The idea alone was enough to drive him to despair.

  After settling into their rooms, Jean and Nina went to the mess hall for a meal. The food was simple but delicious. The bread, soup, and every dish were prepared with care, making even basic ingredients shine.

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  Just as they began eating, a loud voice interrupted them.

  "Legends say the Great Teacher was the greatest gourmet of all time!" Mojian declared, balancing a heaping platter of food as he approached their table. "As the Great Teacher traveled across countless clans to experience their cuisines, he ensured the food quality here remained top-notch, enforced through his ironclad rules of culinary excellence!"

  Jean froze. Mojian was heading their way, balancing the overflowing tray.

  Mojian set his plate down, placed a hand over his chest, and bowed slightly.

  "May this young scholar know the name of the beautiful young lady seated before him?"

  Nina blinked, confused by the overly formal gesture, before replying, "Nina. I’m nine years old."

  Mojian straightened, smiling brightly. "A beautiful name for a beautiful lady. I’m Mojian. I’ve met young hero Jean, but alas, we didn’t exchange greetings properly. I wish you both great enlightenment on the path of our Great Teacher."

  With that, he sat down and began eating.

  "This food," Mojian proclaimed mid-bite, "could only have been cooked in heaven. No simple meal could taste this divine!"

  Jean and Nina exchanged looks of disbelief as Mojian rambled on, his mouth full of food, loudly praising every bite.

  Oblivious to their stares, he kept eating, fully embracing his “hit-my-protein” spirit.

  By the time they finished, Mojian was on his second tray, devouring with unabated enthusiasm. Watching him eat, they began to understand how he’d built his impressive muscles.

  The first day passed peacefully. No one bothered them, and they finally had some time to rest.

  Jean found himself alone in his simple room. It had two beds, two lockers, and a bathroom.

  A small desk and chair stood at the end of each bed. Jean opened his bag and pulled out the mask.

  The school had a strict rule: combat items could never be used on campus. Though they were part of who the students were before arriving, the school never took them away—only banned their use.

  Jean’s knife and mask stayed in his bag, untouched but close.

  There were other rules he didn’t understand yet, but that would come later.

  For now, he needed to ask the mask what to do next.

  He put it on and watched the world unfold beyond what he could see.

  This time, though, there were no enemies or allies in the room.

  "Um, Teacher Aaron?" he called.

  [Sup, brat.] The mask responded, offering some ease.

  "I’m at the school..." Jean hesitated, unsure of what to say.

  [I can see that, obviously. Those brats are running it well. Make sure you take the sorcery class. Everything else is mandatory.]

  "Yes... but... are you really Teacher Aaron?" Jean asked, overwhelmed with curiosity. How could someone who left this world long ago still speak?

  [Nah, just a wisp of consciousness sealed in the mask,] the mask answered playfully.

  Jean didn’t understand what that meant.

  Sensining his confusion, [Don’t fry your brain. Take it slow. You’ll figure it out in time,] the mask reassured.

  Suddenly, a thought crossed Jean’s mind. He reached into his bag and pulled out the Book of Nurturing. "Can you... read this book for me?"

  [Read it? Why? I wrote the whole thing. I can tell you everything in it, but you can’t stay illiterate forever.]

  Aaron paused, then…

  Dropped the topic.

  [Brat… you look familiar. I think I know your father. You might not remember his face well, considering your time in the forest, but... I went through something similar. Did he have hair and eyes the same bright color? His ears were pointy like yours... his voice was gentle.]

  Jean froze, caught off guard, and began to shiver.

  He gritted his teeth.

  It was the first time he’d spoken of it.

  Flashbacks struck him, bringing back everything he’d fought to keep deep inside.

  Jean pushed away the pain and whispered, "Yes."

  The mask was silent for a moment, then asked, [He really did elope, then. What happened to him and your mother?]

  Aaron seemed to know something about his family.

  Despite his doubts, Jean’s belief that Aaron was the teacher his father had spoken of began to clear, though the ease didn’t lessen his pain.

  Unable to speak further, Jean struggled with the emotions. Aaron waited, silent and patient.

  After a few breaths, Jean hoarsely replied, suppressing the pain. "My younger brother changed. He looked black and white. We were attacked by two black-and-white people like him. Mom was taken, along with my brother. Dad told me to run. I ran, but they caught me... the older one said..."

  Jean paused, his voice breaking with silent sobs.

  "He said...

  "‘Throw him away. He’ll die on his own.’"