The Night Seria’s Day Reunites Us All
As the Empire’s grandest festival of the season, the Ball joined hands with Seria’s Day to make every heart in the Bernies Empire flutter with joy. People called it simply “the Ball” without any fancy title, though the most believable story claimed that Emperor Terakan, after granting the humble girl Seria’s wish, danced with her right there in the village square and turned the moment into an eternal tradition.
Whether or not the name was plain because the truth was simpler, countless small tales still circulated about the Ball: flustered courtiers running to gather flowers from every corner to decorate the floor, cooks scrambling to turn humble ingredients into something worthy of the emperor’s table, and the emperor himself learning the hard way what proper court etiquette required. No matter how the story began, the Ball remained the day citizens of the Empire loved most alongside Seria’s Day.
The academy followed the same rhythm. Three full days of rest were granted before the final evening, when students gathered to dance the night away. Yes, the greatest celebration of academy youth, the one that mattered above all others, was the Ball.
One ordinary afternoon, Aslan walked into the familiar house and found his older brother Ryle staring at him with careful suspicion.
“Brother, are you… unpopular at the academy?”
“Why would I be?! Father summoned me, so of course I came! I’m the most popular guy around!”
Aslan’s voice rang louder than usual, and Ryle’s little brother Adel’s eyes sparkled with open delight.
“Brother really is amazing.”
“Y-yes, I am.”
Adel’s glowing gaze made Aslan feel a pinch of guilt. He quickly looked away. Ryle noticed at once, but he let the matter rest for his little brother’s sake.
Probably because of that terrifying stare and those rough habits, girls kept their distance. Ryle remembered the same thing from his own childhood. His younger brother’s eyes had grown steadily sharper, and for a moment Ryle had been genuinely afraid. Even now, when they met, Ryle sometimes wanted to look away. Those eyes were that intense.
“You must have received a lot of Seria’s Sweets this year, right?”
“Uh… yeah. Quite a few. Four. I got four.”
“Four? That’s not that many. I got nine!”
“The number doesn’t matter. What matters is the meaning behind each one.”
“Exactly! Brother is so amazing!”
Aslan’s clumsy lie was exposed the moment he tried to deflect. Sweat trickled down his face. Ryle took one look and decided to save him.
“Father summoned you for a visit. We’ll head over soon.”
Aslan nodded and waved goodbye. The moment his back turned, Ryle started walking his brother toward the main house.
“So… how many did you actually get?”
“Again with the same question? I’m not a kid anymore.”
“You got none, huh.”
“…”
“One.”
Ryle’s calm voice told him everything. One single gift. Ryle didn’t want to hurt his brother’s pride, so he kept quiet. Sympathy filled his eyes. Aslan’s face twisted in pain. Ryle quickly looked elsewhere. His own stern gaze would have been worse.
“Do what you like. Just don’t fight Father today.”
“If he doesn’t start anything, I won’t either.”
“The second you call him ‘that guy,’ you’re already wrong.”
Ryle shook his head, but he understood. Aslan’s feelings made perfect sense.
Aslan Scape’s family had served the military for generations, yet the current head, Alion, was an outcast. He lacked talent, had a weak body, and suffered from countless illnesses. Grandfather had understood and raised him well, but the rest of the Scape household saw him differently. Many questioned whether he deserved to inherit the family name, and some even called the weak Alion worthless.
That painful childhood made Asran despise the military, yet he still wanted to join. His older brothers had walked the normal path, but Alion had trained Asran harshly from the moment he could walk. At ten years old, Asran received brutal training and punishments when he fell short. Meals missed, winter clothes ripped off and tossed out, and once even banished into the snow. No wonder he hated his father.
Ryle had tried to stop it once. The only result was Alion’s obsession growing worse, pushing Asran further away. As the years passed, Asran began skipping training and ignoring orders. Disappointment spread through the Scape household, and finally even the family outside his father turned against him.
“Come in.”
Ryle knocked on the study door. Alion’s voice answered from inside. As a high-ranking official, Alion spent more time at his desk than at home.
Demian, the academy trainer who had followed Rai all the way here, stood near the desk. Aslan’s face darkened the moment he saw him.
“Standing around doing nothing? Time to snap out of it, I think.”
“Maybe. Maybe you haven’t quite woken up yet.”
Aslan walked over with deliberate sloppiness, deliberately making his steps look bad. Alion glanced up from his papers, eyebrows twitching, but he swallowed his anger and spoke coldly.
“How is it at the academy?”
“Paradise. No one meddles, and… there is that guy over there.”
Aslan grinned at Demian. Alion slammed his fist on the desk. The papers jumped, but the sturdy wood held firm.
“When will you finally get it together? Demian says you don’t even train. You have talent that everyone would envy and you’re acting like trash? Is that what I taught you?”
“If that’s how you taught me, then I’m just staying true to it.”
Every sarcastic word hit like a slap. Ryle gave his brother’s side a quick tap, urging him to stop. Aslan, however, showed no sign of finishing.
“You keep saying ‘taught.’ This guy is truly useless.”
“Hah. Look at that. The young master only plays with worthless friends and does nothing else at the academy.”
“Useless? Say that again.”
Demian meant Seiban and Delen. Asran spent most of his free time with them and barely went home.
“If you want, I can tell you more. Even though it’s called Legandia Academy, it’s nothing special anymore. The young master now hangs around Rai the instructor, and that instructor is also trash. He doesn’t teach— he just drinks and plays with his students. Maybe it’s time to send him back home.”
“Trash? I guess that would be you.”
“Quiet!”
Alion slammed the desk again, stopping the argument.
“I didn’t pay your expensive tuition to watch you drink.”
“Exactly. You paid to force your own dreams onto your son.”
Aslan sneered. Alion glared back, furious.
“Force? Dreams? You receive terrible grades and I’m supposed to force my dreams on you?”
Alion tossed the last semester’s report card at him. Asran closed his mouth. Bad grades were nobody’s fault.
When Asran stayed silent, Alion pressed harder.
“What exactly did you learn at the academy? How to drink and chase girls? Demian’s report shocked me. Almost a year has passed and what have you actually done?”
“…”
“Show me.”
Asran raised his head, eyes burning with wild intensity. Alion, who had never seen such raw power in Asran’s gaze before, unconsciously shut his mouth.
“Come on. One fight. I want to see how much you’ve grown.”
Asran looked at Demian.
Confident words, yet Demian only found them laughable. Asran had never shown real skill—only boastful attitude. This guy needed to be stepped on every so often to knock some sense into him.
“Is that allowed? The young master was only ever seen running away from trouble.”
“I finally realized I’m useless.”
“If the head allows it.”
Alion considered for a moment, then nodded. He had heard about it from reports, but he wanted to see his own son with his own eyes.
Work set aside for a moment, the two moved to the training ground in the main house. Demian stood there with sword already drawn, facing Asran.
“I heard you learned something at the academy. Full of yourself.”
“Stop talking and come at me.”
Asran flicked his hand. Demian smiled and suddenly charged. Asran took one slow step back, letting the heavy greatsword rest flat on the ground. Demian slowed, knowing he needed to close the gap and lift the long blade high.
Demian began turning right, but Asran was already moving. The greatsword stayed perfectly still on the ground while Asran ran straight forward and kicked him hard in the chest.
“Where did you learn that trick?!”
Demian staggered back, shouting. Asran had planted his foot on the ground, perfectly balanced, ready to swing the greatsword. Demian’s eyes widened. If he hadn’t fallen back in time, his waist would have been sliced clean off.
“Nothing special, huh?”
Asran laughed as Demian climbed out of the dust. Demian ground his teeth and poured mana into his sword. Blue energy surged along the blade, turning it into something ritualistic. Asran, who had seen Demian’s real skill during training, laughed and pressed his palm to the ground.
The stone floor cracked. Stones the size of a person’s face swirled around Asran like guard dogs.
That was the magic he had learned from Rai—the method to defeat Demian.
Both men activated their techniques at the same time. Asran swung his greatsword, but the moving stones forced him to swing like a club. Demian defended desperately, swinging his sword again and again. When the stones finally shattered and the floor was ruined, Alion called a halt to the sparring.
“Hah… too bad. I could have crushed his skull.”
“Don’t act cocky. If the head hadn’t stopped us, you would have collapsed from exhaustion.”
“You always have your strength for that, huh?”
Demian was the one truly shocked. No matter how fast growth usually came, Asran had grown too quickly. Before the academy he could have been teased even without drawing a sword. Now, after only a few exchanges, Demian had no answer.
‘He was just bluffing?’
Demian refused to believe it. As the top knight serving the Scape family, he knew his own limits. The mana consumption of that technique was too high for long fights. During the activation, he could do nothing at all.
“Brother! That was awesome!”
Adel cheered from the side. Asran grinned and waved, then looked at Alion.
“My grades are still bad, but I learned a lot at the academy this year. Forget about it. And take that useless kid with you.”
“…”
Alion stared at him quietly. Asran expected surprise, but Alion’s words were different.
“Stop the academy. Come home.”
“What? Why?”
“You show no effort yet have that much talent. It’s a waste. Don’t go back to the academy. Train here properly.”
Asran could not believe what he heard. He had fought a knight of Scape’s level, all while learning from Rai and eating countless curses. No one without effort could ever become strong. Yet Alion dismissed it as mere talent. The way he spoke—like he already knew everything—made Asran furious.
“Stop lying.”
Everyone in the training ground stared at Asran, eyes wide.
“You think that’s talent? I didn’t even see it and you’re pretending you know.”
“I saw it clearly. You’re the kind of useless guy who only gets lazy if someone watches his back.”
Alion’s calm voice made Asran laugh bitterly and shake his head.
“Shut up. I’m going back to the academy. This house? I refuse.”
“You’re getting cocky just because you grew a little stronger. What can you do right now? What can you do outside the family’s shadow? Do you have money? How will you live? Tuition? If you leave like this, no one will support you and you’ll be naked. If you leave the family, you can do nothing.”
“We’ll see.”
Asran ignored the cold warning and threw the practice sword down, storming out. Ryle stared in shock at Alion, then chased after Asran. Adel followed a moment later.
“What are you trying to do?”
“I’m leaving this house. I don’t need it.”
“What’s gotten into you? You should prepare properly and leave. This emotional stuff—how will it end?”
“Yeah, brother. What are you going to do?”
Both brother and sister looked worried. Asran turned back with a bright smile.
“Don’t worry. I have plenty of good friends.”
* * *
Knock knock.
When a knock sounded on the door and no one was expected, Rai tilted his head curiously. He opened it.
“Senior, please let me stay the night.”
“…”
Aslan looked proper and polite, but Rai silently scanned his outfit. The clothes were the same as always, yet a heavy bag bulged behind him—like it was filled with everything he needed to live.
Rai stared for a long moment, then slowly closed the door.
“Hey! Let me stay!”
“Get lost! Why are you suddenly showing up?”
Aslan tried to squeeze through the gap, desperate to get inside. Rai pushed his face out and slammed the door shut.
“You nasty guy! Let me stay!”
“I saw your luggage—you’re not a kid! Go away! Why are you here causing trouble!”
“I’m an instructor! I have to take care of my students! Let me stay! This is the only place left!”
“Treat me like an instructor first!”
The academy fell silent, but the noise from the two men echoed through the quiet streets.
Year 279 of the Empire Calendar. Rai’s House.
One more hungry student added.