- Voluntary Exit
The academy buzzed with excitement. After all, a group of hot-blooded students testing their skills against each other was bound to stir things up—especially at that age, when even telling them not to fight often fell on deaf ears. So naturally, news of the upcoming martial arts tournament had the entire campus in a frenzy.
“Hello, this is your one and only Pinyata chiming in to announce a refreshing midday twelve o’clock! Can you believe the Serichane Festival is already next week? And today’s big reveal—the list of finalists for the martial arts tournament—is so juicy! Of course, our loyal newspaper subscribers already know, but for those of you who couldn’t spare 10 Tilon for a subscription, allow me to generously fill you in!”
During the lively lunch hour, Pinyata’s broadcast echoed through the dormitory buildings, empty except for a few resting students. One by one, ten names were called out. Adrian, already having read the list in the academy paper, lounged lazily on his dorm bed, casually flipping through a book.
“Our hidden gem of Amber—Catherine Esteban! And finally… the rookie who’s been sweeping this tournament—Prince Mikhail himself! These ten have officially been selected to advance to the finals. Let’s hope the final matches showcase the kind of duels only true veterans can deliver!”
As usual, the broadcast began on a whim and ended just as abruptly.
Adrian turned another page with a faint smile. He’d already known Mikhail would make it to the finals, but hearing it from the mouths of others—through the school broadcast and papers—somehow made it feel more real.
“They say the prelims were child’s play… Still, he must have some skill, huh?”
From the toned muscles he’d glimpsed when Mikhail had once taken off his shirt, to the way he moved during training, the kid had shown promising signs. Young or not, it seemed he really did have the makings of a Hero.
“Of course, he’s still got a long way to go to catch up to this level.”
Adrian let out a short, amused breath at his own words. Comparing the strength of a human to that of a dragon—there were gaps that time alone couldn’t hope to bridge.
“……”
He was sure he’d imagined something like this before. His eyes narrowed slightly as he stared off into the void, sifting through the centuries upon centuries of memories stacked within him. As a dragon, forgetting even the smallest detail wasn’t in his nature.
And then—he found it. The source of the déjà vu.
Ah… Carlo.
Adrian thought to himself, Whenever I come across an exceptional human, it’s always like this. Carlo too, back at Mikhail’s age, had already surpassed the swordsmen of his time.
Just as he was about to refocus on his book, an image flashed across his mind—a head of radiant silver hair, and bright crimson blood dripping down, matching the color of those eyes. Adrian’s fingers froze mid-turn of the page. Ugh, what a mood killer. With a faint scowl, he closed the book with a dull thud.
And then—it happened.
The dorm door burst open. In came the very rookie everyone had been talking about, striding in with practiced precision. Mikhail, without missing a beat, tossed something Adrian’s way. Still reclined, Adrian snatched the object mid-air with ease. He’d delivered a letter the same way before, so he didn’t grumble about the rude delivery.
“…What’s this?”
“What I mentioned before.”
What he mentioned…? Adrian arched a brow, puzzled, and brought the item closer for inspection. It was a thick piece of paper, gilded with fancy gold embossing and a serrated edge on one side—meant to be easily torn off.
He read the words aloud.
“…‘Serichane Martial Arts Tournament Finals Ticket.’”
“I said I’d give you one, didn’t I?”
Mikhail grinned as he shrugged off his uniform jacket. There was a quiet pride in his face, pleased to have kept a promise he’d made on his own terms.
Seat A, No. 9. Dead center. Adrian checked the number printed at the bottom-left of the ticket.
“That’s a good seat.”
He muttered as he examined it more closely. Judging by the number, it was right in the front row.
“Obviously. You better come. You’ve got nothing better to do during the festival anyway.”
“…You always add something you don’t need to say.”
“Why? Got something else going on?”
Mikhail raised his chin as he adjusted his jacket. His eyes were confident—certain. Adrian gave a sheepish nod.
“Nope.”
As annoying as it was, Mikhail was always right about these things.
“…Fine. I’ll come watch.”
“Yeah. Smart choice.” Mikhail muttered in an offhand tone at Adrian’s response.
After their brief exchange, Mikhail headed straight for the bathroom and shut the door with a firm click. The moment it closed, he clenched his fist tightly, his lips pressed together in a silent show of emotion. For someone like Adrian—who disliked crowds—to agree to come watch the match… It already felt like he’d won the tournament.
Wait—did I look too happy when he said he’d come?
Mikhail abruptly lifted his head and stared into the mirror in the bathroom. Reflected back at him was a silver-haired young man wearing a dopey expression.
His face felt strangely warm, but thankfully not red enough to be obvious. He gently rubbed his cheek with the back of his hand.
Whew. That was close.
***
“Hey! You can’t leave this here! Whose is it?”
One of the students shouted upon spotting a box left near the entrance. Judging from the contents—scraps of fabric, scissors, and paper—it was clearly meant for festival preparations. As soon as the student called out, someone came running over.
“Sorry, sorry! I just left it here for a sec. I’ll move it right away.”
“This should’ve all been sorted yesterday. What are we gonna do if it’s not ready in time for the festival? Move it—now.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
The student, wearing a sheepish expression, quickly removed the box from the entrance.
It was finally the day of the Serichane Festival.
All of Basamiel Academy was dazzlingly decorated to suit the occasion. Some of the embellishments were temporary magical effects, but the majority were actual decorations funded out of the students’ own pockets. Each social club had spared no expense to outshine the others, bringing in goods from outside with loads of gold.
The art faculty’s social club, Vinyard, in particular, had clearly been waiting for this day. They displayed a wide array of beautiful pieces as if to declare their pride. As one passed their clubroom, enchanting melodies could be heard even from outside the door. They’d even conjured tiny fairy-like guides with magic to explain each exhibit.
As always, the students of Basamiel threw themselves passionately into everything—except exams.
The same could be said for Ordinas, the joint social club of the Alchemy and Spirit Faculties.
“But… some things are just fundamentally in bad taste.”
Adrian muttered as he stepped into the Ordinas clubroom, where he had come—as usual—to assist Kyle with his research, even on festival day. The moment he opened the heavy door, he was greeted by an explosion of brightly colored plants and bizarre rock formations.
Surely they didn’t actually think the other students would like this, did they?
“Bad taste?! Come on, look at this! We just barely managed to get it yesterday—it arrived at dawn. It’s a glow tree!”
Kyle, who had been sitting at the table, jumped up at Adrian’s harsh critique. Hugging the glow tree like a precious treasure, his eyes sparkled with excitement. Adrian, however, looked thoroughly unconvinced.
“Hey, come on. Turn the lights off again! You can’t show this off properly unless it’s dark.”
“Ugh, seriously. How many times are we doing this today? Might as well just keep the lights off for the entire festival.”
“C’mon, hurry! Please?”
Must’ve shown off that tree a dozen times already. Adrian, unfazed, dragged a chair back from the table with a scrape and sat down.
“…I’m good. I don’t need to see it.”
At those words, the student who’d been asked to turn off the lights froze, eyes gleaming with disbelief.
What do you mean you don’t need to see it?! There’s no way anyone could resist seeing such a rare tree. Fueled by determination to make the newcomer look, the student shot up from the couch and rushed toward the light switch. With a click, the room went dark.
In an instant, the once-bright Ordinas clubroom was bathed in shadows—save for the tree beside the table, which now glowed with an ethereal blue radiance.
“Ta-da!”
“Ta-daaa!”
They stretched their arms wide, voices brimming with pride.
Adrian stared silently at the glowing tree.
Once upon a time, they’d been so common you could find them planted along forest paths as natural streetlamps.
“…Turn the lights back on, please. I can’t read.”
At his request, Kyle let out a deflated “Yeah…” and reluctantly agreed.
It was hard to tell who was helping whose research anymore.
