The New Semester Begins
The chirping of birds announced the morning.
Zeroa faced the morning sunlight streaming in from the window, blinking his half-asleep eyes several times before finally managing to rise.
With a strangled cry, he forced his body upright and sat on the edge of the bed.
Zeroa slumped forward, arms hanging loosely at his sides, as though still half-dreaming. But the fatigue wasn’t from sleep—it was the crushing weight that refused to lift.
His limbs simply refused to obey. The accumulated exhaustion had turned his body into a traitor that refused to move, no matter how hard he willed it. He had grown used to exhaustion since childhood, grinding through every task imaginable, but this was something new—something that pressed down on him like an invisible mountain.
The break period had been hell.
“Special training,” Rai had called it, and the schedule he imposed was viciously relentless. It was far harder than the second semester, when students had complained of being too busy.
Training, training, training—until meals were treated as interruptions. Rai had pushed the four of them until they nearly broke, and Zeroa, for all his naivety, had come to understand the word “training” had been a cruel euphemism for “torment.”
In the middle of it all, Zeroa had learned a painful truth: the human body was far stronger than it looked. In sparring matches, he had taken blow after blow, only for Rai to snap, “Your arms aren’t even raised properly. Keep going until they actually snap off.”
Winter training on the frozen surface of a lake had been even worse. At first the water had barely been shallow enough to wet the shoe soles, but Rai had laughed and dug a hole deep enough that a grown man would drown. “No mana to warm you up,” he’d added. Hundreds of times Zeroa had been dragged out, coughing and cursing, only for Rai to dump him back in with a cheerful “Power wave inspection—now!”
Zeroa still shuddered at the memory of that word.
Power wave. The sensation of invisible fingers sliding over his entire body, searching every inch. It had been performed dozens of times a day, and the memory of Abigail’s furious “I’m not doing this!” still made him smile.
When Philia and Abigail had received their inspections, Zeroa had politely looked away—until exhaustion had numbed his decency. Even then, the thought of Asran writhing and groaning had made his face burn. “Sorry, Asran,” he’d thought, but Asran had felt exactly the same way when the roles were reversed. Rai, however, had been merciful. Every injury had been prevented by that relentless examination.
Zeroa’s growth had been rapid, yet the training had been so brutal that he now counted the days until break ended. Today was the first day of the new semester.
Even the academy’s demanding schedule paled beside the hell of Rai’s training. Zeroa had been grateful to escape it, and now, sitting up with a groan, he told himself the worst was over.
He rose with a creaking body and stepped out of the dorm room.
Through the door he could already hear the cheerful chatter of his family, probably halfway through breakfast.
Zeroa had never been rich, but he had always considered himself lucky. He stepped outside into the crisp air.
“Yo— you’re late.”
“Sorry… I was tired…”
“Instructor woke up early, though.”
Rai sat at the table, grinning as he ruffled Kara’s hair. Zeroa offered a weak nod and shuffled over, only to freeze when he realized the familiar figure at his usual seat was not the instructor.
His whole family was gathered around the table, and Rai was already deep in conversation with his parents, laughing with Kara as if he belonged there.
“Oh, my, my. I almost forgot.” His mother smiled warmly and offered a wooden box to the spot where Zeroa now stood—far too short for the table, forcing him to sit with his chin nearly on the wood. He stared at the fork, then at Rai.
“U-um… Instructor? Why are you…?”
“Huh? Just passing by and figured I’d grab breakfast too.”
Rai spoke without the slightest hesitation, as if visiting his students’ homes for breakfast was the most natural thing in the world.
“Oh, this is good. Your mother’s cooking is amazing.”
“Oh my, the instructor is praising me! I don’t know what to do. Here, have more.”
“Mom… it’s Instructor, not Teacher…”
Embarrassed, Zeroa tried to correct her gently, but she was too busy beaming at Rai to hear him. The poor boy ate in silence, slipping into the kitchen to ladle soup and stealing a slice of bread from the center of the table.
“Where’s Asran?”
“That lazy bum couldn’t even get up this early.”
Asran was only lazy about the academy; he had simply been too exhausted from the same brutal training. Knowing Asran lived with them, Zeroa could only imagine what would have happened if he had stayed in the dorms last night.
He chewed his bread mechanically, too tired to taste it properly. The thought of Asran and Abigail at the academy made him envious—and jealous of their ability to sleep in.
“Who’s the instructor?” Kara asked, eyes rolling dramatically.
“There’s a friend of mine. Like the one with eyes stretched wide.”
“Mom, why didn’t you tell me sooner? Bring him over next time! We should all eat together.”
Zeroa pictured his mother’s horrified reaction and his father’s search for a stick, and merely nodded without speaking.
The meal was more thoughtful than usual, even though it was morning. His parents were clearly trying to impress the man who taught their son. Zeroa, feeling small and awkward, kept his mouth shut.
“Oh, Instructor! Please take good care of our son. And come visit us again. I’ll prepare something delicious.”
“How could anyone refuse such wonderful food? I’ll be sure to stop by again.”
“Oh, oh! I haven’t even shown you the dish I’m best at yet.”
Zeroa felt his mother’s embarrassment radiate off her in waves.
After the meal, the four of them—Zeroa, Rai, Kara, and the instructor—left for the academy. As soon as the house faded behind them, Zeroa let out a long breath of relief. He was free from his mother’s gaze at last.
Walking beside Rai, he asked carefully, “Is… everything all right?”
“Huh? What? Nothing’s wrong. Why are you asking? You look like you’re about to confess something serious.”
Rai’s wide-eyed stare made Zeroa stammer through a string of nervous examples. The instructor’s expression slowly changed from amused to bewildered.
“Did you read some novel yesterday? Legendary swords? Superhuman techniques? Did you think I’d reveal them? Maybe I didn’t torture you enough.”
Zeroa stared at the ground, mortified. In reality, important visits from teachers usually meant lectures, not sudden breakfast invitations. The image of Rai casually dropping in for morning coffee made him sigh.
By the time they reached the academy, Vice Principal Bright was already sprinting toward them, shouting at the top of his lungs.
Zeroa braced himself. Another punishment was coming. He turned to Rai for moral support—only to find the instructor had already vanished around the corner.
Leaving Zeroa alone, Bright passed him in a blur and disappeared inside the building. The vice principal’s chase of Rai had become so routine that other students barely glanced up.
Only a few wide-eyed freshmen remained frozen in place, staring at the spectacle.
One year. Already an entire year had passed since Zeroa first stepped foot in this academy. The senior’s words rang true: the academy’s magic made time feel like it raced.
Zeroa looked back at his past—Phelia’s Touchdown match, the assassination attempt on the princess, adventures with Aslan, and the brutal training under Rai. He had grown stronger. He could feel it.
And then there was…
Zeroa’s face flushed as he recalled Aria. He lowered his head, hiding his expression from anyone who might see.
Even though he had become close with the academy’s goddess, spent evenings on the bench eating snacks, trained together, and… nothing more had happened. It had all been work-related. Nothing personal. The realization left him strangely disappointed.
‘I’ll just have to do better from now on,’ he told himself, squaring his shoulders.
But the new semester meant a new class. He walked toward the classroom, reciting every student’s name he knew, only to be stopped by the sight of the already-filled hallway.
Kara must have been late because of her talk with Rai. Zeroa sighed and stepped inside.
“Ooh, Zeroa~!”
“Same class again. Nice to meet you.”
Cesset and Phelia grinned and waved. Zeroa returned the greeting, but his eyes scanned the room for familiar faces.
Abi gail sat alone by the window, refusing to meet his gaze when he looked over. Farther back, Aslan, Seiban, and Delen waved casually—same group as always.
Zeroa’s old Class B classmates were present too. Cuthbert and Vollin sat near the window, looking glum. When Abigail shot them a stern glare and ordered them to move, they slunk to the back like scolded puppies and resumed their gloomy vigil.
“Hey, Zeroa! Hi! Cesset! Phelia! Lea! Timaren! Hello, hello!”
Diana burst in, cheerful as ever, and greeted the entire class like a beloved celebrity.
Zeroa watched, stunned. Diana was in their class? She wasn’t the person he had hoped for.
His eyes kept drifting to the empty seat where Aria should have been. Another disappointment. Good things rarely happened easily.
A hand tapped his shoulder. Startled, Zeroa spun around and found Aria standing there, eyes wide with guilt.
“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you!”
“No, no! I’m sorry!”
Zeroa bowed at the waist so low his forehead nearly touched the floor. His eyes sparkled with unshed tears of joy. Cuthbert and Vollin, watching from the side, grinned and wiped imaginary tears of happiness, already imagining their friend’s wedding and grandchildren.
“We’re in the same class. I’ll do my best.”
“Same here. You too.”
Zeroa prayed to the heavens that this was the start of his fortune. Their new class was Class A.
The academy didn’t officially divide students by class, but the letter “A” carried an aura of prestige. And Class A was exactly what it sounded like: the goddess Aria, the popular Diana, the imperial princess Emilia, and even Phelia, who had placed fourth in unofficial popularity polls. The top four spots belonged to them, and the rest of the male students burned with jealousy.
Their instructor was, of course, Rai.
“Class A instructor, Rai Redford. There’s no one who doesn’t know him… so stop staring at the door, you kids.”
When Rai had first arrived, he had announced himself as the instructor only for Leila to barge in and correct him, sending him away. The story was legendary among the students.
Now the class was staring at the door as though expecting miracles. Rai frowned.
“Nobody’s coming. I checked the schedule myself this time, and the vice principal personally told me to stop this nonsense.”
The vice principal’s warning was not exactly a compliment, but it confirmed the instructor’s identity.
The students sighed in disappointment—until the door suddenly swung open.
Rai startled. A woman with short black hair stepped inside, bowed slightly, and met everyone’s eyes.
“I’m sorry I’m late. I am Sierra, the new assistant instructor for Class A. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Rai visibly relaxed. He had been expecting another punishment. Now the woman spoke with the word “instructor” in every sentence, only to be teased mercilessly by Cesset.
Zeroa smiled, already imagining new friends and exciting classes. Being in Class A with Aria was the best possible outcome.