Chapter 23: My Dorm Room (End)
The moon climbed high over the dormitory towers, its soft white light sneaking through the thin curtains and spilling quiet across Lucian's desk like spilled milk on a table. The room was still, almost too still, broken only by the soft scratch of a pen moving over paper—slow, even, like the sound of someone counting breaths to keep calm. Stacks of paper sat around him in neat piles: some covered in music notes drawn sharp and clean in black ink, others with short lines of words that looked like poems, bits of feelings scribbled down when sleep wouldn't come.
Lucian put his pen down and leaned back in the chair, letting out a slow breath that fogged the air just a bit. His eyes were heavy, the skin under them dark from too many nights like this—staring at ceilings instead of closing up for rest. But for the first time in a while, his face held a small calm, the kind you get when you're finally alone with your thoughts and they don't fight back too hard.
'Seems it's already nighttime,' he thought, glancing at the little clock on the wall. Its hands ticked steady, matching the slow rise and fall of his chest. 'Haah… I really did spend the whole day from morning to evening just writing poems and music sheets.'
He looked down at one of the new pages, the title written neat at the top: Winter's Embrace. The words below were simple, but they hit deep—lines about cold that doesn't let go, about holding on to something warm even when your hands are numb.
'It's strange,' he thought, fingers tracing the edge of the paper light. 'Back on Earth, I used to write songs about seasons changing, love I dreamed about but never had, hopes that felt big but stayed small. Now I write to hold on to the one I lost.'
He rested his chin on his hand, eyes going half-shut. The room smelled a bit of ink and that fresh lavender from the clean sheets, mixing with the old wood of the desk. It felt right, in a sad way—like this was the only thing left that made sense.
'Should I join the music club this time?' he asked himself. The idea brought a tiny smile to his lips, so faint it barely showed. 'I was the vice president before in my life on Earth… funny how life circles around itself.'
The thought stuck, warming the room in small ways, like a candle lit in a drafty corner.
'Yeah… I should join,' he decided quiet. 'If only to feel something familiar again.'
He blew soft on the paper to dry the ink, watching the wet black turn solid, then set it with the others.
'Anyway, I need to sleep. Tomorrow marks the first day of classes, doesn't it? Class lists should already be out.'
He stood up and stretched slow, his back popping soft like old wood settling. His eyes went to the sealed envelope on the desk—the one with his classroom assignment inside.
'Class A,' he remembered, picking it up but not opening it yet. 'I suppose it's because of the Mana Train incident.'
A small twist of dry humor crossed his face. 'Can't blame them. I did kill six of those bastards—all of them Sixth Class Mana Raiders. I probably made the faculty nervous.'
He smirked a bit at how silly it sounded now. 'Haah… whatever. Time to sleep.'
Lucian turned off the lamp with a click, the room going dark quick, just the moon's glow left to make shadows soft around the edges. He slipped into bed, hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling where faint cracks ran like old roads. For a second, he felt the low hum of mana moving inside him—slow and even, like a quiet friend keeping watch. It helped more than any bedtime story ever could.
And before he knew it, his eyes got heavy, breath slowed, and the quiet world pulled him under into sleep.
---
'Good morning… hwauh.'
Lucian's yawn filled the room soft as he sat up, his hair a mess from tossing in his sleep. Morning light sliced through the curtains like it had somewhere to be, hitting the floor in bright lines. He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand, blinking away the fuzz, then looked to his desk—the music sheets still sitting neat where he'd left them, like they'd waited all night.
'It's already morning, huh? I should take a bath and hurry up,' he muttered, running a hand through his pale hair to tame it a bit. 'I don't want to be late on the first day.'
Steam started filling the little bathroom soon as he turned on the water, hot and steady, fogging the mirror before he even stepped in. For a few minutes, it was just noise—water hitting the tile hard, his heartbeat thumping even under it all. He let it run over him, washing off the night's sweat and the faint grime from yesterday's fight, but it didn't touch the tired deep inside.
When he stepped out, towel slung over his shoulders, the mirror showed him back: a seventeen-year-old guy with ashen-white hair wet and sticking down, black eyes deep enough to get lost in, looking back like an old photo you can't throw away.
'Same face,' he whispered, touching the glass quick with his fingertips, leaving a foggy print. 'Same empty look, well i couldn't blame this face since it's all my fault. After losing Seoryeon my whole life and my dreams shattered to pieces and i already gave up living this life.'
He dressed fast in his clean academy uniform—a mix of white shirt and navy jacket, gold lines running the edges, the school crest sitting proud on his chest. It felt right, like slipping into an old jacket that still fit, even if it didn't change who was wearing it.
When he left his dorm room, the halls were waking up—kids rushing by with bags slung over shoulders, voices bouncing off the walls about who they sat with or what the teachers looked like. It was that normal morning rush, full of energy Lucian used to have, but now it just washed over him like noise from another room.
Outside, the breeze hit cool on his face as he took the cobblestone path to the main academy building. The fountain up front sparkled under the sun, water jumping in little arcs that caught the light, and banners from all the noble houses hung straight, flapping lazy in the wind.
And then, right on time, he saw them.
Claire Manhattan. Amelia Eileen Orientalia. Johnathan Almek Leonborne—the protagonist of the first game.
They stood by the academy gate, talking low, until they spotted him coming.
"Lucian!" Claire called first, waving her hand high, her ginger hair catching the sun like fire. Amelia gave a quick nod, polite as always, while Johnathan shot him a short, real smile—the kind that tried to pull people in, hero style, whether you wanted it or not.
Lucian met their eyes for a quick second. Something flashed over his face—maybe knowing them from before, or a bit of old warmth—but it was gone fast, like a light flicked off.
He looked away and kept walking, steps even, no rush, no stop.
Claire's hand dropped slow, like it forgot what it was doing. Amelia looked confused, brows knit. Johnathan frowned a bit, watching him go with that mix of worry and wonder.
But Lucian didn't turn back. He had no reason to.
'It's better this way,' he told himself. 'No getting close. No ties that pull. Just quiet.'
---
The door to Class A waited up ahead, big and shiny with gold marks carved in the wood. Kids went by it in groups, some whispering excited about being in the top class, home to the academy's best young fighters and thinkers.
Lucian stopped short, staring at the sign by the door: Class A - High Division.
'Though the top class in Class S are the best and always on the spotlight since it's the section of the protagonist Johnathan and his main heroines, Class A are perfect for me since Class A are full of warriors no one could beat easy,' he thought dry, 'they're all still backup Sub-DPS in a big fight group.'
A small laugh got out, quiet and dry. 'Yeah, that's what I used to call them back in my second life. Guess that habit doesn't die easy.'
He fixed his collar and let out a breath slow. 'Well… here goes nothing.'
With that, he reached for the door handle—and stopped dead.
Because sitting by the window, legs crossed neat, eyes calm but glowing that deep red... was her.
Serene Veronica Le Ardenia.
Her long white hair fell straight like moonlight on snow, her crimson academy uniform fitting perfect, hugging her slim frame just right. The light hit her crimson-red eyes—the color of wine poured slow, burning quiet but hot underneath.
And when her gaze locked on his, she smiled.
Soft. Calm. But the smile wasn't nice. It was hungry—like a cat that just smelled the mouse and knew it couldn't run.
Lucian's heart skipped once, hard. 'What the hell…'
Her smile got a little bigger, her red eyes narrowing just a touch—like she was playing with her food.
Lucian felt the air change, thick and pointy—like a wave of something heavy pushing down on him, you couldn't see it but you felt it everywhere. His breath stuck for half a second, his body yelling that this woman—no, this thing—was bad news.
'What the hell is this feeling…?' he thought, eyes going narrow. 'It's like I'm looking at a demoness who wants to eat me whole.'
Serene tipped her head a bit, the curve of her mouth soft and smart—like she'd heard what was in his head.
"Long time no see, Lucian," she said soft.
Her voice hit him like a chill down his back—familiar, spooky, and way too close to something he'd buried deep a long time ago.
And just like that, his first day started—under the eyes of a demoness with a smile like fire.