From Firefly to Star
"Our fiefdom holds a flower festival every spring. Golden rain trees and magnolias. Lilacs, violets, and peach blossoms too. There are so many pretty ones."
"A flower festival, huh. If I get the chance, I'd love to see it sometime."
"Ah! N-no, I didn't mean Young Master should come all the way! It's just... just locals wandering around looking at the flowers blooming here and there..."
On the road to the Empire. To the Continental Academy.
Seria chattered on like a baby bird that never tired. Was she naturally this talkative? Or was she filling the air because traveling alone with a high noble's son made her nervous?
"My ability lets me handle fire. I awakened it by pure chance, and my parents were over the moon, but honestly, it's so small and weak it's embarrassing to even call it fire. The best I can do is firefly-level."
"But it proves your potential, doesn't it? That's why you're heading to the academy."
"You think so? Hearing you say that gives me a bit more confidence!"
Abel responded appropriately to her stories while quietly sizing up Seria. Aside from family, this was the first time he'd been this close to another ability user. Especially one who wielded fire—he'd only heard about that type, never seen it in action. She downplayed her power, but that could just be politeness. Even a firefly-sized flame packed plenty of destructive force. She might be hiding her true strength, positioning herself carefully. The academy was a hotbed for all sorts of incidents, after all. She could be behind some of them.
Plus, Seria was a commoner by birth. He wasn't some class-obsessed maniac, but if she harbored resentment toward her status, that could be a path to corruption.
"Have I been talking too much about myself? If Young Master has something to say..."
"It's fine. I'm enjoying just listening to you, Miss Seria. If I had to pick one thing, it's that 'Young Master' title. Better to drop it from now on."
They weren't heading to the academy as nobles invited to a ball. They were ability users enrolling. Status mattered, sure, but what truly set the scale was the caliber of one's awakened ability. Exceptional talent let even a commoner stand tall before royalty. Conversely, even lofty birthrights meant nothing if your power was average—you'd get the cold shoulder, subtle or not.
"Foreign princes and even the Empire's own imperial sons become underclassmen, seniors, or peers at the academy. All under the banner of fellow ability users. I think you should get used to that, Miss Seria."
As Abel finished explaining, Seria nodded vigorously. Her face was full of anxiety, like she'd committed some grave blunder. She looked just like a puppy that had been thoroughly scolded. Tension was fine, but shrinking back too much wasn't. She was an ability user from the Ascal Kingdom, after all. Time to hold her head high.
"Must be pretty nerve-wracking, huh? Leaving your fief for the first time. With such a modest ability, no less. You just told me yourself—your flame is so tiny it looks like a firefly."
"Yes..."
"Look."
Abel drew back the carriage curtain and flung open the window. The sun had just set, and twilight's shadows spread before the pair.
"See those stars? Tiny, aren't they? Maybe even smaller and dimmer than fireflies."
Seria gazed at the sky. Just as Abel said. It wasn't midnight yet, but the stars looked small and insignificant. At least, they appeared that way.
"Yet no one calls those stars worthless. Even if they're smaller than fireflies. Even if they don't shine like the sun or moon. Because in the end, they're stars in the sky."
"..."
"You call yourself a firefly, Miss Seria, but to someone, you're a star. To your parents. To the people of Frijian Barony. That's why we're heading to the academy now—to turn that little light into a moon, a sun for them. Right?"
Seria nodded again. Her face had relaxed this time.
"That's all it takes. No need to belittle yourself or fret. Everyone starts as a firefly. But the future? No one knows."
Saying it out loud, it felt like some cringey line from a drama. Seria's gaze from across the seat prickled too.
"Young Master Abel... cough. Lord Abel, you're really nothing like me."
"We're the same. Just fellow academy freshmen."
"True... But how to put it. It sounds weird to say this, but you feel twice as lived as me."
"Just so you know, we're the same age."
"Ah!"
Seria fidgeted with her fingers for a moment before continuing.
"Truth is, like you said, I've been worried sick. Talking nonstop to drown out the anxiety. Sorry, Lord Abel. Was I too noisy today?"
"I already said—no, you weren't. It was fun."
Just because someone always seemed bright didn't mean their insides matched. He'd seen plenty of such characters in stories, and real people like that too.
"Worried I'd drag shame on my parents, the fief, the kingdom. The Continental Academy gathers all the top talents from everywhere—wouldn't a nobody like me just embarrass myself? Stuff like that."
"..."
"But hearing you... it gives me strength. Courage. Still nervous, still scared, but I think I can do this. I know I can. For the precious things, like you said."
"Good."
That's the spirit. That brightness was her greatest weapon. Please keep wielding it at the academy—reel in any would-be villains before they go dark.
Abel thought that as he turned his gaze back out the window.
I used to be like that too.
Back in his younger days. Desperate to awaken an ability, but it wouldn't come. The pathetic self-loathing, the uncertainty of the future, the anxiety—it had him shaking. Even though no one else was disappointed, he'd hated himself enough to feel disgust.
How did he overcome it? Same as Seria. He remembered why he had to push forward, his goals. Family. Fief. Kingdom. And himself. Awakened and an ability user now, he'd walk this path willingly. Don't hunt for reasons you can't reach—chase the heart that must arrive.
In an ability user story, the real key is an unbreakable spirit.
Same kingdom, so this much hand-holding. Anyone else? No way.
Watching Seria bloom into chatter again with a steadier voice, Abel smiled faintly.
"Young Master. We're almost there."
"Fast."
"Showing the proof of enrollment to the Continental Academy got us the Empire's swiftest passage."
He'd remember the evaluators who came to verify his ability not long ago. Their goal wasn't just checking freshman standards. The real mission: issuing tokens to approved ability users from each nation.
Anyone could enter the Empire. But you'd face scrutiny at every checkpoint. Those tokens exempted you—they marked you as an ability user, a VIP from abroad. Send them straight to the academy unless they caused a major ruckus.
What if someone forged one? If it were that easy, the Empire wouldn't stand for it. The evaluators lived by those tokens, and specialist inspectors with verification abilities manned every gate.
A device to justify the Continental Academy being inside Empire territory rather than a true neutral zone.
Not bad. Annoying for Ascal Kingdom folk, but the Empire was the continent's giant—most advanced too. If the academy was the pinnacle of education, it belonged there.
Though the academy grounds are a special district—not Empire, yet under it.
Abel stepped out as he mulled that over, opening the carriage door. They'd reached the final checkpoint to the academy. One last token check to enter the special district.
"Just you two?"
Two knights—not guards—approached, eyeing Abel and Seria. Ability users existed, but they were rare. Knights remained prime human resources. Yet here they were, doing grunt work. Another reminder of the academy's prestige. Abel nodded.
"The evaluators said to carry the tokens at all times. No token, no entry, no exceptions."
"Here."
The knight beckoned, and a waiting man approached from behind. Odd light gleamed in his eyes—the telltale sign of an emotion ability in use. The token inspector.
"Both tokens check out fine."
"You heard him. Grab your personal bags and head this way. From here, academy carriages take over."
Regrettable, but their kingdom coachman parted here. Abel and Seria bid farewell; he cheered them on in turn.
The knights watched briefly, then approached with caveats as the goodbye wrapped up.
"You're Continental Academy freshmen now. Act the part. The handbook we're giving you details the rules you must know—read it at least once..."
Glancing at the handout, it was heavy on noble etiquette. Even commoners had to respect seniors. Never leverage status as a weapon.
"Ah, and one more thing. The most important."
The knight loading their bags continued.
"A bit of commotion is fine."
"Pardon? Did I hear wrong? You just said..."
"You heard right, lady."
Crisp and clear. No need to ask again.
"The academy permits a reasonable level of disturbance."