A few minutes earlier.
The west garden was quieter than the rest of the estate. Less light, more space. The flowers here didn’t glow—they swayed gently under the moonlight. The wind smelled like cold mint and white blossoms.
Evelyn stood near a marble railing overlooking a koi pond, the soft ripple of water the only sound in the silence. She sighed quietly. The noise of the main event felt far away, like it belonged to another world. This part of the garden was hers for a moment.
Until footsteps echoed behind her.
She turned, and her smile faded the moment she saw him.
His black suit was pressed tight across his broad shoulders, and his dark-blonde hair was brushed back like it always was—like he was performing for an invisible audience. His smile? Practiced. Eyes? Cold. Too cold for a party.
"Evelyn," he said, hands in his pockets, strolling like he owned the grass. "Didn’t think I’d find you alone."
She straightened. "That’s because I wasn’t trying to be found."
He laughed softly. "You used to be warmer than this. Before your awakening."
"That was before I realized who I was really talking to."
Garrick’s smile twitched, just a little.
"I just want to talk," he said, stopping two feet away from her. "Old friends. Like the academy days. Remember?"
"We were never friends," Evelyn said, stepping back.
Garrick tilted his head. "You’re saying that now, because you’ve got attention. Power. But we both know that won’t last. You’re new money. New blood. And people like you burn bright... for a moment."
Evelyn’s jaw clenched. "And people like you are born thinking they own the flame."
His eyes narrowed. "You think Class Zero will protect you? That weird boy you’re always around—Lucian, right? What, did he charm you into feeling safe?"
"Lucian’s twice the man you’ll ever be," Evelyn said.
That was the last crack.
Garrick’s hand shot out—grabbed her wrist, hard.
She gasped. "Let go."
"You’re lucky I’m even talking to you," Garrick said, stepping closer. "The Merrin name doesn’t make you untouchable."
She tried pulling away.
And that’s when Lucian arrived.
His coat snapped behind him as he sprinted through the hedges.
He moved without noise. Without hesitation.
One second Evelyn’s voice had been shouting.
The next, Garrick’s hand was raised.
Lucian’s fist landed on his jaw before Garrick even saw him coming.
Garrick flew back, landing hard in the flowerbed.
Evelyn gasped as Lucian stepped between them.
Lucian’s eyes didn’t blink. Didn’t move. Just locked on Garrick like a wolf who’d found its prey.
Garrick groaned, blood trickling from his mouth. "What the hell—?!"
Lucian didn’t answer.
Garrick scrambled to his feet, spitting. "You’re dead."
He reached into his coat.
Lucian raised a hand.
[Chrono Sense – Instant Activation]
His hand caught Garrick’s wrist mid-reach—then twisted.
Lucian shoved him back against the garden wall.
"You think touching her was okay?" Lucian said, voice low.
"She’s—she’s not even—!"
Lucian’s knee slammed into Garrick’s ribs.
Garrick collapsed again, wheezing.
Lucian crouched beside him.
"I don’t care who your family is. I don’t care what your bloodline does. You touch her again—"
He leaned close, voice flat.
"—and I’ll end the Thorn line myself."
Lucian looked back at her.
She nodded slowly, her voice shaking. "Yeah. I just... he came out of nowhere. I didn’t expect—"
"You don’t need to explain."
Lucian turned back to Garrick, who was now crawling away on his elbows.
"Run back to your father," Lucian said. "Maybe he can buy you some new teeth."
Garrick spat blood but didn’t speak. He vanished into the night like a rat scurrying back into its hole.
Lucian watched until the footsteps disappeared.
Then, finally, he let out a slow breath.
The garden was silent again.
Evelyn stepped forward, her voice softer now. "Thank you."
Lucian looked at her, then shook his head. "I didn’t do it for thanks."
Evelyn smiled faintly. "You always say that."
She looked at the place where Garrick had fallen. Her hands were still shaking a little.
Lucian reached out—took one of them gently.
"It’s over," he said.
Evelyn looked up at him.
And for a second, there was no party. No academy. No Class Zero. Just the two of them under the stars, in a garden too fancy for either of them.
She leaned her head against his shoulder.
Just let her breathe.
But deep inside, Lucian’s thoughts were already somewhere else.
This wasn’t the last threat.
Inside the Merrin Mansion
The music still played softly beyond the velvet-curtained halls. Laughter floated from the ballroom, where nobles danced and clinked crystal. But here—inside one of the private lounges at the back of the estate—the mood was very different.
Garrick Thorn paced, a drink untouched in his hand. His jaw was slightly swollen. The right side of his lip still stained with dried blood. His eyes were storming, burning with something between rage and humiliation.
"That bastard," he growled, slamming the glass down on the table, not hard enough to break it, but just enough to spill. "He humiliated me in front of her. In front of everyone."
Sitting across from him was a tall man dressed in black robes with a silver clasp shaped like a thorned rose. The man had long grey hair tied back in a loose tail and wore thin-framed lenses over cold, yellow eyes. His presence was quiet—but commanding.
Master Aldric. Thorn family representative. A known enforcer in the political underground.
He didn’t look up from the book he was slowly flipping through.
"You grabbed her," Aldric said, voice low and unimpressed.
Garrick tensed. "She disrespected me. She’s just some Merrin offshoot with a broken ability that somehow evolved into a spectacle. I was trying to—"
"Claim her," Aldric interrupted, still not looking at him. "Like a prize."
Garrick turned sharply. "You’re supposed to be on my side."
Aldric closed the book. Finally looked up.
"I am. Which is why I’m telling you to calm down."
Garrick opened his mouth, but Aldric raised a finger, and the room instantly felt colder.
"You let your ego lead. That’s weakness. That’s not how we operate."
Garrick’s face tightened.
"But," Aldric continued, voice smoothing again, "what you said is not wrong. She is just a girl with a new spotlight. And the boy?"
A sly smile pulled at his lips.
Garrick clenched his fists. "He’s not even backed by anyone. No name. No clan. No legacy. Just power. Raw power."
"Which is the most dangerous kind," Aldric said. "Because it can’t be predicted. Or controlled."
He stood slowly, hands folding behind his back as he moved to the window, looking out at the moonlit garden.
"You want revenge. That’s fine. But don’t do it like a child in the schoolyard. Do it like a Thorn. Let the pressure build. Let him walk into the trap himself. Then we remove him."
Garrick nodded slowly, his breathing steadying.
"But," Aldric added, "we’ll do it on my time."
He turned slightly, the gleam in his eye unreadable.
"And I’ll enjoy watching him squirm."
Elsewhere, near the upper lounge, another figure had been listening.
Dean Garos stood by the bar, a half-finished drink in his hand, leaned against the wall like a man enjoying the evening—but his ears had picked up everything.
He didn’t react. Not outwardly.
But a small smirk tugged at his lips.
So they’ve already started plotting, he thought. Not even twenty-four hours since the term began.
He took a sip, eyes half-lidded.
A student with no political background. No clan. No noble name. Just an anomaly. An unknown. He wasn’t on any family ledger, wasn’t picked by any patron, and yet...
Garos saw what most others didn’t.
He remembered watching the crystal during the Awakening Exam, when Lucian touched it—and it didn’t stop glowing.
That was the word it whispered.
The system had registered a value no one could measure. The AI had flagged it. But Garos, instead of suppressing it or rerouting the data... had quietly erased the anomaly alert.
He knew the risk. The weight of letting someone like Lucian walk free.
"Let them try," he muttered under his breath.
He turned away from the bar, coat swaying slightly behind him.
If he warned them—if he placed a mark on Lucian’s name—the boy’s path would soften. The threats would die down. And without pressure, a sword never sharpens.
Lucian wasn’t just a student.
He was a possibility.
A storm waiting to define its shape.
So Garos made his choice.
He would not interfere. Not yet.
Let the heirs test him. Let the families provoke him. If Lucian was as strong as the system hinted... he would survive. Grow. Adapt.
And when the time came, when the game grew too dangerous to ignore—
Only then would Garos step in.
"Class Zero," he said quietly, eyes gleaming.
"You’re already stirring the balance."