"He is allowed entry."
The words hung in the air like the toll of a great bell.
The guard froze. His hand slid away from the hilt of his sword. His body straightened, and though his jaw remained set, his eyes flickered toward the old man who had arrived panting moments before.
Leo exhaled slowly, his shoulders easing, though the dangerous glow in his eyes did not fade completely. Avin, still tight with nerves, felt the tension bleed from the air like water draining out of a cracked basin.
The old man took one more deep breath, then another, his chest rising and falling beneath the crisp black fabric of his suit. He straightened, smoothing the wrinkles with fastidious precision, as though the act of buttoning his jacket properly would erase the image of him staggering and wheezing moments ago.
Finally, he lifted his chin, stepped forward, and bowed his head with solemn grace.
"Gentlemen," he began, his voice polished, resonant, and laden with pompous weight, "permit me to extend my most sincere and unqualified contrition for this unfortunate display of impertinent officiousness. The sentry who confronted you is but a neophyte—raw, unseasoned, and excessively zealous in the execution of his duties. I beg your indulgence for his regrettable lapse in decorum."
The guard swallowed visibly, and after a tense heartbeat, bowed his head as well.
Leo waved his hand lazily, his tone flat and dismissive. "It’s nothing."
The old man straightened again, his white beard catching the sunlight. His eyes were sharp, intelligent, yet courteous as he turned them on Avin.
"My name is Charles," he said. "We received forewarning of your arrival. Forgive my intrusion, but I must inquire..." His gaze flicked around them, searching. "Where is your carriage?"
Leo didn’t hesitate. His answer dropped like a hammer. "Bandits."
Charles’s lips pressed thin. "Ah. A most lamentable circumstance. You have my profound apologies for your arduous and violent passage." He reached forward suddenly, his gloved hand moving toward the heavy suitcase perched in front of Leo. "Allow me to assist."
Avin’s eyes widened. "Wait—it’s heav—"
His protest died in his throat as Charles hoisted the suitcase effortlessly, as though it weighed no more than a sack of feathers. The old man adjusted it beneath one arm and carried it with impeccable balance, not so much as breaking stride.
Avin stared, dumbfounded. Of course, he thought bitterly. Even the old people here are monsters.
Leo dismounted in one smooth movement, boots crunching against the tiled path. Avin swallowed and followed, clumsy in his effort not to tumble off the horse. Somehow, he managed to land without humiliating himself, though his knees nearly buckled.
"Follow me," Charles said, turning toward the great gates.
The shift was immediate. The dirt and grass underfoot gave way to an immaculate paved path, tiles polished to the point where Avin could see his own warped reflection staring back at him. Each step forward was a reminder—he didn’t belong in this place, not yet.
They reached the towering metal doors of the wall. Two guards stepped forward to take the reins of the horses. Avin noticed one of them was the same guard who had nearly drawn his sword moments ago. As he moved toward Leo’s horse, Leo emitted a low, guttural growl—soft, but sharp enough to make the guard freeze and step back hastily.
Leo sighed, then turned toward Avin. "Unfortunately, I cannot accompany you inside. I must return and report."
From his side, he unsheathed his sword—scabbard and all—and presented it to Avin. The weight of the weapon sagged his arm slightly.
"Your brother instructed me to deliver this to you."
Avin blinked, surprised, before reaching out and taking it. The sword was heavier than he expected, its sheath reinforced with bands of metal. Along its open edge, intricate engravings formed the unmistakable sign of a clock, etched with almost reverent precision.
"...Ashborn gave me this?" Avin asked quietly.
"Yes." Leo’s reply was immediate. His tone dropped into something resembling respect. "And he said: never cease to wield it. Use it until you cannot anymore... or until it is beneath you."
Avin looked down at the blade, speechless. He felt the cool firmness of the metal against his palm, the strap rough against his fingers. He swallowed and strapped the sheath to his side, threading it through the sewn loop on his trousers. The clock symbol gleamed faintly in the sun.
Leo’s voice cut in again, sharper now. "Make sure you pass the entrance exams, Young Master. Because the Duke is considering finding another use for your room."
The words slipped past Avin’s dazed focus. "Ah... okay."
Only after a moment did they sink in. He looked up sharply, but Leo was already turning away.
"I will return," Avin blurted.
Leo’s grin widened, snake-like, before he swung onto his horse. Without another word, he rode back into the forest, vanishing between the trees.
Avin watched until he disappeared completely.
Charles cleared his throat softly, drawing Avin’s attention back. "The entrance examinations draw near, Young Master. Let us make haste."
Avin turned—and froze.
In front of him shimmered a massive oval of light, floating upright like a mirror. Its edges glowed faintly, while its interior churned in shades of violet and indigo, colors swirling and rippling like living liquid.
Avin’s eyes widened. "What the—Is that a portal?"
Charles adjusted the suitcase under his arm and stepped calmly into the figure. His body sank through with no resistance, vanishing into the colors as though he’d been swallowed by deep water.
Avin hesitated, then crept forward. He stretched out a hand. His fingers dipped into the surface—slime-like, cool and pliant. And beneath that... the faint slick texture of soap lather.
"Cool..." he muttered under his breath, before pressing forward.
Avin shielded his face, staggering as brightness seared his vision. Slowly, he lowered his hand and blinked into focus.
What he saw stole the air from his lungs. Check latest chapters at novel-fire.net
A hall stretched in every direction, vast and golden. The floor gleamed with polished radiance, reflecting the shimmer of crystal chandeliers above. Endless pillars of marble lined the walls, etched with symbols Avin couldn’t recognize. The sheer immensity of the place defied comprehension—he couldn’t even see where the nearest door was.
Tens of thousands of people filled the hall, voices clashing in a cacophony that echoed endlessly. Conversations overlapped, laughter bounced off the walls, shouts rang across the chamber. The sheer noise rattled Avin’s head, making his ears buzz.
Charles appeared at his side again, still holding the suitcase. "I shall take custody of your belongings until the conclusion of the examination," he said smoothly.
"Uh... yeah," Avin muttered, distracted, eyes still darting across the sea of strangers.
When he looked back, Charles was gone.
Avin turned in place, heart pounding. Alone. Utterly alone, surrounded by faces that all seemed to know someone else.
"Where do I sit?" he muttered.
Everywhere he looked, groups clustered together—friends, families, acquaintances laughing or whispering in tight circles. Not a single person sat idle, not a single pair of eyes searching for company.
Avin swallowed, throat dry. This is just like high school cafeteria, he thought grimly. Everyone sitting with someone... except me. Back then, I told myself it was just bad luck. That the school had an odd number of students, and I was the extra. But deep down, I knew.
I had no friends because I was the problem.
He inhaled shakily. No. Not this time. I can make friends. They were the weird ones back then. I can do this.
He forced a smile onto his face.
He approached a nearby group—three boys and two girls, laughing together. His palms sweated as he stepped closer.
"Hello," he said brightly. "How y’all doing?"
The chatter stopped instantly.
Five pairs of eyes landed on him. The silence stretched. For one fragile second, Avin thought he might be accepted.
Then, as if by unspoken agreement, they turned back to their conversation. Voices resumed. His presence dissolved like smoke.
Avin stood frozen. His smile twitched, then collapsed.
"Ugh." He spun on his heel and shuffled toward a vacant bench, dropping onto it with a heavy sigh.
"Those assholes," he muttered.
He slumped forward, staring at the floor. His mind churned.
"So the entrance exams, huh..."
A sudden thought stabbed into him, sharp enough to make his chest tighten.
Oh shit. What if it’s written? What if they ask us to write something about the world...? The world I know nothing about.
Panic swelled in his chest. He pressed a hand against his forehead. How the hell am I supposed to write about this place? What if they ask history, politics—
"Watch where you’re going!"
The shout cut through his thoughts.
"Or what?" another voice snapped back, dripping with venom.
Avin’s head jerked up.
A girl and a boy stood only a few meters away, faces inches apart, eyes blazing with hostility. The tension between them was so sharp it seemed to slice through the noisy hall itself.
And then, as if on cue, the rest of the chamber went quiet. Conversations died. Every head turned toward the pair.