The midday light filtered through the tall arched windows of Veyl Academy's west courtyard, where a group of boys lounged beneath the shade of a sprawling silverleaf tree. The air was heavy with summer heat, cicadas droning faintly from the garden hedges.
A gray-haired boy sat at the center of the group, his hair falling into a sharp side fringe that framed his smirking face. Lomwel Matthew—the notorious scion of the Lomwel family. The Lomwels were a name that carried weight, their influence threading through every corner of the academy like invisible chains.
Matthew lazily leaned back, one arm resting across the bench, while his emerald-trimmed uniform jacket hung open like he owned the air itself.
"Anyway, where were we… oh, the mission," Matthew said, glancing at his friends.
One of his henchmen, a wiry boy with a crooked nose, leaned forward eagerly. "Tell us what you did on that mission again, Lomwel-san."
