It was a Tuesday afternoon, after all the classes had ended. Since they had a meeting scheduled with Hans about the mysterious door, Adrian and Mikhail quickly exited the main building and made their way toward the central garden.
They had just been listening to the broadcast about this year’s prize.
“Ten thousand Tilons…”
Mikhail Luce Inehart muttered as he walked through the garden. The Gold Dragon glanced sideways at the prince and asked, trying his best to ignore the overwhelming reality.
“There’s only one of that sword, right?”
“If it’s genuine, of course there’s only one.”
“…Yeah, right. That makes sense.”
The attempt at denial failed instantly.
There was no way the prince would carry a counterfeit sword—especially not one he took to an important battlefield.
…Was it really a prophetic dream?
Adrian couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling gnawing at the back of his mind. The dream had felt so vivid, as if it had actually happened in real life. He could still see Mikhail’s silver hair gleaming under the sunlight, and those crimson eyes.
This game was strange. Just like the one he’d played with Carlo de Inehart—it was full of bizarre events. He really didn’t seem to have good chemistry with that family. There was only one way to confirm whether the dream was truly prophetic: he had to watch the prince closely.
“Why’s there such a huge gap between first and second prize?”
“Right? That useless violin only costs five thousand Tilons.”
“…I think you’re forgetting something. You don’t even have a single Tilon right now?”
Adrian shook his head. Boldness was one thing, but being completely out of touch with reality was another.
***
Hans, true to his reputation for keeping promises, was already waiting for them at the central garden right on time.
“Alright. I got the Tilons.”
He took the agreed-upon 3 Tilons from them as soon as they met. Adrian checked the number that briefly flickered over the back of his hand before vanishing—he had 12 Tilons left. Still, it comforted him a little knowing he had twelve more than the prince beside him.
“The guy I’m introducing you to is named Kyle D’Baicia. Let’s head over now, yeah?”
Hans grinned and pointed to a small building beside the main one. It was a place no freshmen had visited yet.
“Oh, you guys haven’t joined any social clubs yet, right?”
“Nope.”
Adrian and Mikhail answered in unison. They hadn’t had the time or energy to think about joining a social club. More than anything, neither of them was particularly interested in the whole club system to begin with. They felt a little bad about it, especially to Illiya Heiner who had tried so hard to explain everything, but honestly, the impression they’d gotten of the Amber social club from the magic faculty after class had been underwhelming at best.
“That’s surprising. I thought for sure Mikhail would join Hounds.”
“Hounds?”
Mikhail asked back quietly as they walked. Hans answered right away.
“You don’t know Hounds? It’s the name of the knight faculty’s social club.”
“Why would a club be called something like that?”
“Haha, funny, right? But the knight faculty guys pretend to hate it, even though they secretly love it. Bunch of weirdos.”
Mikhail shook his head—he liked swords, not social clubs. Hans nodded in agreement at his reaction.
“Yeah, I get it. Hounds seems like a pain to deal with anyway.”
Adrian, walking beside them, turned to Hans and asked,
“Did you join a club, sunbae?”
“Me?”
Hans looked at Adrian with a laugh.
“Of course. I’m part of the Vineyard, the social club from the arts faculty… but we don’t really do much. It’s all solo play there.”
“That’s… unique.”
Artists, huh? Adrian made a quietly biased judgment. Hans went on,
“You don’t have to be in the arts faculty to join. Vineyard’s a good pick for first-years, so I recommend it.”
Adrian gave a vague nod in response to his senior’s enthusiastic pitch.
The three of them arrived at a building.
“This is the space used by the social clubs. Kyle D’Baicia said he only has time today, so… he told us to come find him ourselves.”
Hans scratched the back of his neck with an awkward smile. He averted his gaze slightly as he addressed the two freshmen staring at him.
“He’s the most reliable guy for something like this, which is why I’m introducing you… but honestly, he’s kind of a freak…”
What kind of person makes such a big deal out of a simple introduction?
“Yes, it’s fine. Let’s go.”
Adrian cut off Hans’s hesitation in one clean stroke.
***
When Hans opened the large door of the building, five grand staircases fanned out from the central foyer, each leading to a different club. As the three of them stepped inside, the heavy door quietly shut behind them. A soft, wine-colored rug blanketed the entire floor of the central hall.
“There are five officially registered clubs in Basamiel. But there are so many unofficial ones you can’t even count them, so it’s worth taking your time to decide.”
Adrian and Mikhail turned to look at the map of the clubhouses posted in one corner of the lobby. The system seemed simple—climb the appropriate staircase to reach the rooms of each respective social club.
“Which club is it?”
Adrian asked Hans.
“Just to the right—Ordinas. It’s the social club for the Spirit and Alchemy faculties.”
Ordinas…
“That’s an unusual name.”
“Yeah, they must know ancient languages pretty well. I think it means something like ‘order’ or whatever, but I don’t remember exactly.”
“I see,” Adrian replied casually, with a faint smile.
Hans had remembered correctly.
Ordinas. In the ancient tongue, it meant Natural Order.
It was an arrogant word—one that implied the right to divide the world as humans saw fit. Hardly appropriate for a mere social club at an academy.
It was something heavier, far more significant… A memory flickered through the Gold Dragon’s mind—a moment when he’d sensed an unfathomable force moving the very foundation of the continent right before his eyes. That same feeling now echoed faintly through him, and with it came the image of the beautiful ceiling fresco and those bone-chilling angelic figures.
The Gold Dragon shrugged it off and focused on walking. No matter how hard he tried, there were parts of the human mind he would never understand.
As the map indicated, they climbed the grand staircase to the right of the lobby. At the top, a door elegantly inscribed with the word “Ordinas” came into view. Hans opened it without hesitation.
The large door swung open smoothly.
Ugh.
The moment the door opened, a strange odor hit them in the face. Mikhail immediately raised his sleeve to block his nose.
What the hell is that smell?
The prince frowned and scanned the room.
Inside the Ordinas clubroom were a few scattered students. The place was a mess. Once likely a stately space with refined wallpaper and a grand chandelier, the decor was now stained and long since broken.
Crunch.
Adrian raised an eyebrow as he glanced down at his academy-issued shoes. A shard of glass had wedged itself into the sole. The central table of the clubroom was completely empty, while the club members sat scattered around, each preoccupied with their own tasks.
Then it happened.
A student leaning over a cluttered table, peering into a magnifying glass, lifted her head and looked straight at the trio that had just entered.
“Looking for Kyle?”
She immediately guessed the reason for Hans’s visit. When Hans nodded, the student stood up and walked to the corner of the room.
Where she went was a large sofa in the corner, and lying there was a student with a book draped over his face, clearly asleep. She walked up to him and, with an air of irritation, gave the couch a few firm kicks.
“Mmm… Just five more minutes… please…”
A man’s voice, muffled by the sofa cushions, whimpered in protest.
Unmoved by the pleading, the girl kicked the couch again.
“Cut the cute act. Get your ass up.”
THUD. She gave it one last, solid kick. The force knocked the book off his face with a soft thump.
“…What the hell. What’s going on?”
The man, disheveled and blinking against the sudden light, slowly sat up on the sofa. Having just been rudely awakened, his expression was blank with sleep. The girl, who had kicked the couch, clicked her fingers sharply in front of his face with a crisp snap.
“Snap out of it. You’ve got visitors.”
“…Yawn… Who?”
Mid-sentence, the man yawned and turned his gaze toward the clubroom entrance.
Only then did Kyle D’Baicia register Hans standing there. Stretching his long arms, Kyle gave a cheerful shout.
“Oh hey, Hans. What’s up?”
“What do you mean, ‘what’s up’? I explained it yesterday.”
“Man, we haven’t seen each other in forever, and you’re already picking a fight?”
“Forever? It was literally yesterday—ugh, whatever. These are the kids I told you about.”
Hans gestured tiredly toward Adrian and Mikhail, who were standing a few steps behind.
Kyle blinked a few times, then slowly looked over the two freshmen.
Freshmen? What do they want?
He scratched the side of his face with his palm as he rose from the sofa.
