The faint creak of wood echoed across the narrow platform, breaking the stillness of the morning air. Its source was peculiar— a small figure that waddled clumsily, shaped like a duckling. Yet it was no living creature. Its shell was carved from polished wood, its joints bound together with fragile brass hinges. Tiny gears whirred softly inside its body, breathing life into its unnatural movements.
Children gathered in a half-circle. Their eyes gleamed like stars as they watched the artificial duckling clatter against the platform. The glumness of the area seemed to fade beneath their laughter.
The little ones, barefoot and ragged, turned their gaze toward the figure standing a few paces away— a pale young man with slightly wavy dark hair that reached his ears and equally dark bright eyes. His attire was simple: a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled neatly, paired with worn black trousers.
"What's your name, brother?" a child asked, happiness flickering in his voice like a candle.
The young man tilted his head slightly, his lips curling into a gentle smile. "William," he said softly.
He remained only long enough to see their joy bloom, then slipped the sling of his leather satchel across his shoulder. The duckling continued its awkward march and was now theirs to cherish. William turned, bidding no farewell.
As his footsteps met the uneven cobblestone path, he caught sight of someone familiar striding ahead— a man in his forties, tall and broad-shouldered, with hair slicked back in streaks of gray. A fine black suit draped over his frame, its sharp lines dulled by years of wear. William's eyes softened in recognition.
"Mr. Ralph!" William's pace quickened as the older man glanced over his shoulder. A faint grin broke through Ralph's stern features, and he raised a hand in greeting.
William excitedly followed him as Mr. Ralph caught a glimpse of William walking towards. He waved his hand as a greeting.
"Good morning, sir." William greeted, bowing slightly. He spoke before Ralph could, out of instinct— formality was second nature when standing before someone of higher station.
Ralph's expression warmed, his voice tinged with approval. "Good morning as well, William. I saw you earlier— giving the little duck to those children." His smile deepened. "You brought them joy in a place that rarely knows it. Thank you."
"You saw that?" William's chuckle came awkward with his ears tinged red at the unexpected praise.
He cast a glance behind him. The laughter of children still danced faintly through the air, but the street that supported it was a harsh disparity— crumbling walls, clotheslines drooping under threadbare rags, and the sour scent of poverty that hung on like smoke. This was Jundan Street, one of the streets of Lilac City.
Ralph's nod was curt as his gaze slid towards the clocktower's silhouette in the distance. "Come. We shouldn't be late."
"Yes, sir." William fell into step beside him, where each sound of their shoes struck stone in harmony as they walked.
After several blocks of worn cobblestones and the muted hum of morning chatter, their path ended at a gate. Two clay pillars, each patterned with hairline cracks looking like it had weathered by time, arched together to cradle an intricate lattice of wrought steel. The iron bars twisted and curled in elaborate patterns— intricate motifs that caught the sunlight like liquid silver. Suspended above, marble letters flicker in elegance, 'Lilac Academy of Technology'.
To the side, a simple and plain booth stood sheltered beneath a canopy of shade, where the academy guard— a man with shoulders like stone and a face carved from granite— kept silent watch.
"Another minute, and you'll be late for your lecture… and I for mine." Ralph said with a low chuckle, though his words carried an undercurrent of urgency.
They approached the booth. The man's sharp eyes flicked over them, having an aura of a mixture of boredom and authority. Without a word, William and Ralph retrieved their identification card— sleek, rectangular cards etched with their names and the seal of the Academy. A quick scan later, the gate groaned open on its hinges, and they stepped through.
What greeted them was a path carved from pale stone, framed by twin rows of meager trees whose leaves shimmered like green glass under the sun as their branches arched above. Beyond this living corridor of trees is the academy ground— a groomed area where students lounged on green grass with laughter carrying faintly across the open air.
Minutes later, the pathway spilled into a plaza overlooked by a stunning building. The academy's main building stretched across the horizon. Its entrance mirrored the gate in its arched path, though it was a heavy wooden doors rather than steel. Pointed rooftops scraped at the sky, while enormous windows— arched and glistening like cathedral glass— caught reflections of drifting clouds. There was beauty in its symmetry.
"This is where we part, William." Ralph's tone softened, though his eyes retained their usual precision. "Have a good class… and keep your thoughts clear. We'll meet later in the laboratory."
As they bid farewell, Ralph veered off toward the right side where another entrance of the building is situated. It was much easier since his office, which is somewhat a laboratory, is near there. William turned toward the main doors, pushing them open to slip into the hushed corridors.
The air inside was cooler, tinged faintly with chalk dust and varnished wood. He walked first passing through two rooms on his sides and was met with three paths. The left and right corridor, and the staircase in front of him, leading towards the next floors. The first floor displayed in ordered stillness— rows of doors leading to offices, laboratories, and the library. Ahead, the switchback staircase is situated.
William ascended in silence as his mind traced familiar blueprints of the building: offices on the first and lecture halls above with their symmetry punctuated by occasional alcoves and narrow windows. By the time he reached the third floor, the hum of distant voices brushed against his ears.
He turned right, counting doors until the fifth. His hand found the polished brass handle, and the door swung open to reveal the lecture hall— spacious and alive with subdued chatter. Two columns of long wooden desks, that could fill five students each, formed a layered incline toward the back, their varnished surfaces reflecting slivers of sunlight from the tall windows.
Nearly every seat was filled together with the murmur of conversation that could be heard. At the front, the chalkboard stood mute upon its platform. The professor had yet to arrive, buying William a precious moment.
His gaze swept the room until it caught on familiar faces. With measured steps, he climbed to the fifth row, slipping into his usual place near the windows.
Wlliam slid his seat with a quiet breath. To his right, a brown-haired young man with sharp, fox-like features turned to him with a grin tugging his lips. Leo, mischief practically radiated off him, the kind of charm that could win a room or start a fire.
"You're a minute late, William," Leo said in a tone that was half-mocking, half-relieved. His voice carried that casual boldness of someone who rarely feared consequences.
Beside Leo sat Elise, her long, dark hair cascading down her back. Her beauty was quieter, poised, yet no less striking— tempered steel compared to Leo's blazing fire. She gave a soft chuckle, her calm eyes catching William's.
"Luckily," Elise murmured with her tone laced with wry amusement, "Professor Helen hasn't arrived yet. Eight o'clock sharp was her rule."
William exhaled silently. The Academy was merciless with punctuality, but none more so than their history professor, Helen Veyra. He has seen it before— one student, late by mere seconds, was denied entry without a word. The thought alone was enough to raise gooseflesh.
"History professors are terrifying," William muttered, half to himself.
As though summoned by the utterance, the doors creaked open, and Professor Helen strode in with the measured grace of a storm given form. Her graying hair, streaked with silver, gleamed under the soft light, and her tailored suit spoke of precision in all things. With her arrival, the lecture hall descended into absolute silence.
Leo leaned close and whispers, barely audible. "Lucky for you she didn't hear that." A grin flashed across his face, like a child sharing a secret joke.
Without further greetings, the lecture began, words rolling from Helen's lips like chiseled stone— sharp, deliberate, and impossible to ignore. She spoke of the Six Continents of the Current World.
"This land we stand upon is Mileston," Helen began, her voice echoing across the hall. "A continent divided into four areas: North, South, East, and West. Lilac City, sits in the East— cradled by the aquatic shores. To the North and West tether us to Sinatra, the largest of all continents in terms of land. Southward lies Raylai, an empire where its land is separated by the bodies of water— in terms of islands, they have the numbers. Beyond the Eastern waters, crossing past a large body of water, rises Ohalen, a continent mostly affected by storms. And beyond that, past the reaches of the northern tide, stands Paralen, a realm whose borders drink the edge of the world. Lastly—" she paused, her gaze cutting through the class "—to the farthest West of the map, beyond the shoulders of Sinatra, lies Lanneisia. The beacon of human progress." Her voice held weight, like the pull of gravity. The names lingered in William's mind.
Two hours slipped by, swallowed by lessons of culture, traditions, and power struggles— the marrow of nations. When Helen finally departed, her presence left a vacuum of silence before conversation burst free like pent-up steam.
"Lanneisia," Leo groaned dramatically, throwing his head back. "The jewel of the world, and we're stuck in the mud of Mileston. How's a lowly middle-class soul like me supposed to even see that place? You'd need a fortune just to breathe its air."
Then, with a sly look, Leo turned to William. "Your father's a sailor, isn't he? You could just hitch a ride—"
"Do you think I can just stroll aboard?" William cut him off sharply with his voice low but edged. "There are laws and policies. Things you don't joke about." He said that with pure, innocent, and serious intentions.
Leo's grin faltered as it was replaced by a sheepish grimace. Elise, who had been silent all this time, let out a quiet laugh, her words soft and drenched in irony. "Here's an idea, Leo. Get a job."
He groaned louder, flopping onto his desk in mock despair, while William's thoughts drifted far from the banter.
Half a year. That's how long since he last saw his father— since the man vanished into a horizon painted with sails and salt winds. Overseas life was unforgiving. For now, William lived with his older sister.
Leo's voice tugged him back. "Was she being sarcastic just now?"
William smirked faintly. "Probably not. But hey— why don't we just turn Mileston into the next Lanneisia? With our brilliance." His words were half-joke, half-dream, the kind of ambition spoken into the void because hope was easier than despair.
But reality weighed heavily. Travel costs alone could bleed them dry. Living expenses? A mountain beyond mountains.
A glance at the clock shattered the thought. "I need to meet Mr. Ralph," William said abruptly, rising from his seat.
"You two are like birds of a feather," Leo teased. "Obsessed with research."
William only laughed softly, letting the words trail behind as he slipped into the corridor. His shoes whispered against varnished wood as he descended the stairs, turning toward the right wing. But before his hand touched the landing, a flicker of movement caught his eye.
There— at the far end—Mr. Ralph was striding through the main doors, his pace brisk, his expression shadowed. Not toward his office. No— he was headed outside.
Something about the urgency in that gait unsettled William, though he could not say why.
"Mr. Ralph!" William called out with his voice echoing faintly through the corridor.
But the man didn't so much as flinch. His strides remained brisk and deliberate, his gaze fixed straight ahead as he moved toward the wooden door to exit. He didn't slow down. Didn't turn. Didn't even seem to hear his name had been spoken.
William blinked, taken aback. It wasn't like Mr. Ralph to ignore someone, especially not him. But he brushed it off with a soft sigh. He must be preoccupied. Professors like him are always buried in something.
He offered himself a small joke in his mind. I'll just wait in the lab like usual. I've got a spare key, after all— granted by the great Mr. Ralph himself as a symbol of our 'technological brotherhood.' He smiled faintly at the thought, though he would never dare call Ralph anything so casual out loud. Not in public, at least.
Hierarchy was a law unto itself in this world—not just in titles or wealth, but in knowledge and responsibility. Ralph was a professor, a man of recognized merit and status. William was still a student— brilliant perhaps, but still climbing.
Without further delay, William descended to the first floor and made his way through the corridor that led to Mr. Ralph's private laboratory. It wasn't uncommon for the professor to disappear into work or some unexpected obligation, but this was the first time William had seen him leave so suddenly— and without a word.
He stopped just outside the lab door, hand reaching into his coat pocket to retrieve the key. But before it even touched the lock, a click echoed from behind. The smaller side door— the one connected to the secondary entrance near the lab— swung open.
And there he was.
Mr. Ralph.
Entering from the side.
The same man who just walked out the front entrance minutes ago.