Theodore grabbed Cyrus' collar, his eyes no longer containing the same innocence as he had with Remis. He laughed incredulously, his fingers growing tighter around the white fabric of Cyrus' shirt.

"You have the nerve to say that," Theodore spat, his eyes blazing, "when we both know that I have more of a chance of him than you will ever."

Cyrus gritted his teeth, his muscles tensing as the words entered his ears. He grabbed Theodore's wrist, slowly gripping harder and harder until a bruise began to form. He didn't think that Theodore would provoke him so plainly in front of Remis. Originally, he had restrained himself in fear of breaking Remis' fragile image of him. But now, he couldn't contain his ire.

He laughed in response, his face covered in goodwill, until he drew close and muttered into Theodore's ear. "Do you really think someone who fooled Remi and got caught would ever be allowed to touch him? Dream on." His voice was dripping with indignation.

"He said it himself. The Audovár dukedom... is not something Remis will ever want to touch."

Theodore bit the inside of his lip. He felt like his chest was hit by a rock, the air sucked out of his lungs. Cyrus moved back and resumed his angelic, innocent façade, as if the piercing words had never escaped his lips.

"You—!" He seethed, his eyes blazing. He drew back his fist. The magic in his body ran rampant, and thick strands of mana encircled his clenched hand. Cyrus' eyes shot to his fist. He curled his lip and grappled his own mana, stretching it into his hands and feet.

"Both of you are acting so weird." Remis, who was simply watching the display of aggression, finally spoke up, his brows raised. He narrowed his eyes, his gaze turning to Theodore. "Zier, were you planning to–"

"What do you mean, Rem?" Theodore interrupted, a confused, innocuous expression dancing on his face. His chagrin seemed to evaporate as soon as he heard the familiar name of 'Zier'. His heart fluttered at the thought that Remis may have forgiven him, the fact that he could be starting to view him as before, a confidant and close friend. Maybe then... would he have more of a chance?

Remis eyed them both with suspicion. He sighed, shaking his head and waving his hand dismissively. "Well, then, drop it. I'm going out soon, so both of you, get out." He ordered lackadaisically, ambling to the bathroom with slow steps.

Cyrus followed behind him, as if it was natural, his heart still boiling. Remis stopped, turned around, and sent a harsh glare at him before making a motion. "The bathroom is mine, not yours. Get out!" He exclaimed. He walked both of them to the door with a dark, insanely tired frown.

"But, Remi—" Cyrus started, but was quickly stopped by the slamming of the door. A few seconds passed with both of them staring blankly at the closed entrance. Then, the door creaked open and an eye peered out from the small crack.

"Oh, and... thanks, Zier. For the flowers. I liked it while it lasted, I guess." The door slammed again.

Theodore's face slowly grew hot, flushing bright red. His lips pursed into fine lines, crawling up into a smile.

Cyrus gritted his teeth.

----

My eyes moved to the clock hung on the wall above the corridor. It read half past 8. I rubbed the inner corners of my eyes and stumbled out of the couch, my black hair hanging gloomily in my face. In ten minutes, I would have to leave the comfort of the room and go into the first S-grade class. I slumped down, grabbing the bag leaning on one of the corners of the living room, and plodded out the dormitory, my feet dragging lousily behind me.

I arrived at the Erte, the largest building on the far west side of campus. It loomed over me, the shining antique windows casting a particularly classical atmosphere on the gardens around it. I breathed out a deep sigh and reluctantly made my way up the stairs, climbing step-by-step until I reached the sixth floor. There was a magic-powered elevator contraption on the other end of the hall. S-class students were allowed to use it, because their classes were always at the topmost floor of each building. However, that was the very reason why I had chosen to use the stairs. The burning in my legs was nothing compared to a minute of dealing with more than one capture target at a time.

I entered room 603, my bag sagging sadly behind me. I was the first person into the silent, dim classroom. A glow filtered through the tinted window panes, casting a beautiful array of light on the desks and floors. My gaze was kept fixed to it as I took a seat on the furthermost side of the classroom. The desk had a beautiful view over the training arena's different elemental pillars.

Hanging the bag gently on the chair, I took out a textbook, notebook, and a pencil and spread it onto the small square desk. Propping my chin on the palm of my hand, I gazed out the window and slipped into a stupor.

----

Lucius was the second to arrive, his figure blocking the light from the doorway. Remis turned to look at him, and Lucius blushed as soon as their eyes met. He hurriedly took a seat right next to Remis. The black-haired youth stared at him curiously, his eyes seemingly piercing Lucius' head.

"...Good morning, Remi," Lucius finally managed to stammer. Ever since his bold actions in Remis' room, he had been unable to face the black-haired youth, and even addressing him with the nickname was a struggle. Remis, however, seemed not to notice and simply nodded, his eyes unamused as he turned away, studying the interplay of light and shadows on the floor with boredom and faint annoyance.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Lucius mustered his courage and turned to face Remis again. "H-hey–"

"Good morning, Remi~" Cyrus strolled into the classroom, his hands concealed behind his back. The prince's words were cut short as he saw Lucius' choice of seating, but he quickly moved to sit behind Remis, his eyes curved into large crescents. "I brought something for you; I hope you like it!"

Cyrus revealed a large bouquet of red carnations from behind his back and placed it in Remis' lap. Remis was left speechless, and Cyrus naturally placed the bouquet into his frozen hands. The prince's eyes widened as he watched the spectical, his chair screeching back as he stood up, reaching to grab the bouquet.

Cyrus moved in front of him and seized Lucius by the wrist. "Sorry, not for you, Prince," he whispered, his smile crooked. Lucius frowned, his blush long since faded away, replaced with a slightly repulsed look on his face. He grunted, snatching back his wrist, and reluctantly sat back in his chair. The prince's confusion grew as soon as he assessed the tumbling emotions kicked up by the ordinary gift of flowers. Why am I so annoyed all of a sudden? The prince thought, his his brows furrowed.

Remis sat silently, holding the red carnations in his lap. He was surrounded by vibrant red, and he couldn't help but wonder what he had done to deserve all this attention. As he contemplated his mixed emotions, a red-haired girl entered the classroom with a radiant smile.

"Good morning, everyone," Aileen sang, her eyes immediately drawn to the conspicuous red bouquet. Her eyes sparkled with amusement, but she quickly masked it with polite respect. "My, my, what a great way to start the first day of school, Brother," she commented, opening her fan and laughing with delight. Remis was certain that she was already devising a plan to exploit the situation.

"Please, just sit, Sister," Remis sighed wearily, gesturing to the front of the classroom.

"Alright, alright," Aileen chuckled. Ignoring Remis's gesture, she chose a seat at the far back of the classroom, three chairs away from the rest of the capture targets. At this point, Remis had given up on everything going according to plan. The heroine was supposed to sit in front of all the capture targets so they could ogle her, but it no longer seemed to matter to him. Nothing mattered anymore.

Theodore followed, his sunny demeanor fading as he saw the vibrant bouquet that Remis now held. The tension in the classroom grew palpable as Theodore took the seat in front of Remis.

----

Two distinct claps broke the tension in the air as a middle-aged man entered the room with a crooked smile. His hair stuck out in various directions, and his eyes seemed to bulge slightly. "Good morning, class!" he exclaimed, nearly jumping up as if he might hit the ceiling with just a bit more enthusiasm.

The professor picked up the white chalk from the side of the board and scribbled his name haphazardly, sending a cloud of chalk dust into the air. He turned back to the class and pointed at the writing, his eyes blinking rapidly.

"I'm Professor Horshwin," he said, pushing his large spectacles back up. "Now, let's see who's here." He peered down at the clipboard cradled in his arm, occasionally glancing up to search for faces, before returning to the crumpled pages. This went on for a few minutes, and then, with an exaggerated raise of his eyebrow, he looked up one last time, as if expecting someone.

"Yes, one more 'S,'" he chuckled heartily. "Ah, his name, his name..." He returned to rummaging through the disorganized pages, his mind racing.

Just then, a tall, slender, silver-haired youth entered the room. His slightly upturned, oblong eyes seemed to glow a hazy, metallic light blue. He had an ethereal, otherworldly quality about him, with a distant look in his eyes. His silver hair flowed like liquid metal, framing his figure in an elegant cascade. His expression, marked by a touch of indifference, was detached and misty, as if in a dreamlike trance.

Then, an owl flew out from behind him. I blinked, my eyes fixed on the snow-white feathers and the slightly scarred beak.

"Nore?" I couldn't help but say, bewildered, my eyes widening.

Sylvien's gaze flickered with recognition as he cast his eyes towards me. Breaking his usual expressionless facade, he moved gracefully past the other capture targets. His steps had an elegant rhythm, as if he had been waiting for this long-anticipated encounter. His slender fingers brushed gently through Remis' silky black hair, a subtle gesture that seemed to send a shiver of anticipation through the room.

"We finally meet," Sylvien said with a soft chuckle, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. He casually perched on the edge of Remis' desk, creating a quiet stir in the room. From within his overcoat, he produced a scroll, its parchment bound with a simple yet striking combination of red and gold string. "Now, I can finally deliver my letter in person."