Professor Rhaldrin set a heavy book on the podium, the thud echoing through the half-filled classroom. "Good morning, class," he began, his whiskers twitching slightly. "Today's lesson will be… a little different."
Dozens of heads turned toward him. Even the usual murmurs fell quiet. Rhaldrin almost never deviated from schedule.
Then, the door opened.
A tall young man stepped in—older than any first-year or third-year. His hair shimmered faintly with a sea-green tint under the mana lights, and his skin held a subtle pearlescent hue, like sunlight reflecting on calm water. Though he appeared human, something in his presence carried a quiet current—fluid, balanced, deep.
Rhaldrin's crimson eyes glinted. "Students, allow me to introduce Lyren di Myrrhvale, son of Lady Nyssara di Myrrhvale."
