The grand clock tower struck noon when Marina Dragonheart arrived.
Her entrance was silent, yet no less thunderous. A golden robe laced with sapphire threads flowed around her like a regal aura. Her black hair shimmered like ink under the sun, cascading neatly down her back, and her navy-blue eyes—cold, distant, calculating—swept across the academy courtyard with detached indifference.
Every step she took was measured and graceful, drawing attention from the senior students. Whispers stirred in the air like restless leaves.
"Isn't that... Marina Dragonheart?"
"She came all the way from Class A?"
"What's someone like her doing in the junior division?"
The guards accompanying her didn't speak a word. They stopped before a closed chamber where Ansel Nighthawk waited, fidgeting, heart pounding like war drums.
The door opened.
She stepped in.
Marina's eyes narrowed slightly when they landed on Ansel. Her expression remained calm, but a flicker of disdain flashed across her face. The Grand Duke stood at the center, arms behind his back, regal and composed.
Ansel stood when she entered. For a moment, words abandoned him. He had expected someone older, someone terrifying. But Marina was just ten—two years older than him—but her presence made her seem untouchable.
"You must be Ansel," she said, voice sharp like a winter breeze. "The boy my father wants me to marry."
Ansel opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
"I'm not interested," she continued flatly, folding her arms. "I don't care what you are or what he sees in you."
"Marina," the Grand Duke said with quiet finality.
She turned to him. "Father, I won't marry a manaless boy. It's disgraceful. My future is my own."
"I understand your feelings," he said, unfazed, "but I do not take back my decisions."
Marina's jaw tightened. "Even when they're mistakes?"
"I trust my instincts," he replied. "And one day, you may see why."
Ansel clenched his fists. "I never agreed to this either..." he muttered.
The Grand Duke placed a hand on Ansel's shoulder. "You will, in time."
The room was thick with tension. Marina turned, robe fluttering like fire as she marched out. But a few students nearby caught a glimpse of the scene.
"Hey... isn't that Marina?" one whispered. "And that boy... is that Nighthawk?"
"No way. They're talking together?"
By sunset, rumors had spread like wildfire.
Ansel Nighthawk is engaged to Marina Dragonheart.
---
Elsewhere, Reena moved through the halls with a stack of books pressed against her chest. The whispers caught her ear like cruel little needles.
"Did you hear? That commoner boy is marrying her."
"Who, Marina? No way. Why would a prodigy even look at him?"
Reena froze in place. Her eyes widened as her grip on the books weakened. One slipped from her arms and landed with a thud.
"Ansel...?" she whispered.
She ran. Through the corridors, down the servant's passage, and into a quiet nook by the greenhouse—her sanctuary.
She dropped to her knees beside the flowerbeds, tears welling in her eyes.
He didn't tell me... why didn't he tell me?
Reena wasn't angry—at least not yet. The hurt came first. A deep ache that settled in her chest. She thought of his awkward smiles, the times he stayed up to help her, the way he looked when he was lost in thought.
They shared something, didn't they?
Or maybe I was wrong.
She bit her lip and looked at her trembling hands.
A single tear slipped down her cheek and landed on a petal.
---
Marina stood on the academy rooftop later that night, gazing out at the city lights.
"This place smells of mediocrity," she said.
A voice behind her replied, "And yet here you are."
She turned to see her father.
"I'll prove you wrong," she said. "There's nothing special about that boy."
"We'll see," the Grand Duke answered with a faint smile.
He looked down at the glowing campus.
"And when you do... perhaps you'll thank me."