Tristan and Garfield had been dutifully carrying out their assigned chores for the past two days. On the third day, however, they had to rise even earlier—for it marked the official beginning of the school year. After swiftly completing their morning tasks, they made their way to the baths. Upon returning to their rooms, they changed into the school uniforms that had arrived the previous day.
The uniform was simple yet elegant: a crisp white shirt, tailored black pants, and a sleek black blazer bearing the insignia of the Academy embroidered over the left breast pocket, with a larger version of the crest emblazoned across the back. Tristan completed his look with polished black Oxfords and stood before the mirror, surveying himself with mild approval.
"This is actually nice. I'll have to thank the Headmaster when I see her," he murmured to himself.
Tristan stepped out of his room and descended the stairs, where the others were already gathered—each adorned in their own uniforms.
"Look who finally decided to show up," Harrison teased.
As Tristan approached Harrison, Gareth, and Garfield he quickly noticed something peculiar about the two seniors attire—their collars were of different colors. Harrison's was white, while Gareth's bore a deep violet hue.
"Why do your collars look different from ours?" Tristan inquired.
Harrison examined his own blazer, lifting and adjusting his collar with a smug expression before responding with a grin of pride.
"The color of your collar changes once you're chosen by one of the Pillars. The color corresponds to the family or constellation under which the Pillar resides."
Tristan vaguely remembered Amelia mentioning the Pillars, named after the constellations from his former world, but their function and significance remained unclear to him. Still, he was intrigued.
"What Pillar are you part of?" he asked, turning to Harrison.
Harrison's grin widened as he proudly declared, "The white collar represents Hercules—the strongest of all the Pillars."
Gareth let out a short chuckle. "He thinks they're the strongest, but they're not. Mine represents the Pillar of Aries."
Tristan knew that joining a Pillar was Amelia's ultimate ambition, and so, by extension, it became a matter of interest to him—even if only to uphold the promise he had made.
"How did you join?" he asked.
"In the coming weeks, you'll participate in the Selection Games," Harrison explained. "These games are designed to assess potential candidates. You're closely observed, and when it's over, the leaders of each Pillar choose the participants they want."
Tristan had little desire to join a Pillar for his own sake, he understood that to fulfill his promise, he would have to give his all—even in pursuits that held no personal interest. Upon learning that an upcoming event would determine his selection, he steeled his resolve and fixed his entire focus upon it.
"Very well then. Shall we go?" he said, already walking toward the front door.
The others nodded and smiled, following close behind. They stepped out of the dorm and began their walk toward the Academy. Along the way, other students made their way to campus, many arriving in private carriages. Some wore collars dyed in vibrant hues, while others—like Tristan and Garfield—still wore black, the standard for the unchosen.
Among the many, a few stood apart—radiant students with hair of vermilion, violet, amber, snowy white, and gleaming silver. They descended from their carriages with an air of nobility, exuding the kind of grace and poise one would expect from the elite. Their presence turned heads and silenced conversations. They were revered by many—far removed from the dorm dwellers, who barely received a passing glance.
As the noble children ascended the grand double staircase leading to the Academy's main entrance, the others remained at a respectful distance, wary of disturbing the procession of the "great ones."
Everyone but Tristan.
He had no interest in status or tradition, and he certainly didn't believe in worshiping the privileged. With measured steps and a calm demeanor, he climbed the stairs, undeterred by the stares that followed him.
Gareth was stunned by Tristan's boldness. Garfield and Harrison, however, grinned proudly and clapped for him. The noble children cast their eyes upon him with disdain, their expressions twisted with silent contempt—all but one.
"You truly have a great deal of nerve," came a familiar voice—confident, measured, and devoid of emotion.
Tristan turned, his gaze shifting to the base of the grand staircase. There she stood—the silver-haired maiden, regal and composed in a flowing black dress adorned with golden tassels that shimmered from her breast pocket.
"I'd need more than just nerve if I'm to be your partner," Tristan replied, a sly smile curving his lips.
The nobles standing only inches away from them began to murmur, their whispers sharp and judgmental, their eyes brimming with scorn as they stared at the audacious young man who dared to speak so freely.
"Who does he think he is, speaking to her like that? Does he not realize that Miss Amelia stands at the very pinnacle of our ranks? She has no business consorting with someone of his kind."
"And what do you suppose he meant by partner?" another girl whispered softly, her voice laced with intrigue as she covered her mouth with delicate fingers.
Amelia, usually composed, flared with a quiet rage upon hearing them mock someone she cared about. She climbed the stairs with measured grace, her every step echoing against the marble as the crowd fell silent.
Once at the top, she turned and declared in a voice clear and proud:
"That boy there is Tristan Merigold, and the other with the golden hair is Garfield Frutia. They are my partners. Together, they will assist me in achieving my goal of becoming a Pillar Leader! And let it be known—anyone who insults them insults me, and I will not tolerate such disrespect!"
The courtyard fell into stunned silence—even the boys from the dorm were taken aback.
Off to the side, partially hidden behind a nearby tree, Eric glanced up from his book and scoffed.
"Partners, she says. Don't make me laugh. There's an order to things—and that order is clear: we are not, and never will be, equals to those above us."
Amelia moved forward, becoming the first to open the great doors of Constella Academy. The other highborns followed behind her, then Tristan, and finally the rest of the students.
They stepped into a vast hall previously sealed to all but faculty. Three colossal tables stretched from one end of the room to the other, gleaming under the golden chandeliers above. At the far end stood the Headmaster—composed, imposing, and radiating an aura Tristan had only felt from her.
Her voice rang out with power and precision.
"I welcome you all to Constella Academy."