The bus groaned as it curved along the narrow Alpine road, tires griping the icy asfalt with soft, scrubing squeals.
Elias pressed his forehead against the glass, watching the mountains blur into streaks of gray and white. Snow had begun to dust the higher peaks, and a thin mist curled in the valleys below. He shivered from anticipation.
This wasn't just another school.
This was Helvetia Academy, a place the goverment had described vaguely in press releases and private letters: experimental, unprecedented, and wholly unpredictable. Selected by lottery, Elias had no choice but to come here, to this isolated mountaintop replica of teenage life and institutional chaos.
Students shuffled down the aisle, some whispering nervously, others laughing as if nothing in the world could faze them. A few jabbered into phones, scrolling through news about the lottery or sending last-minute mesages to friends left behind. Elias didn't bother; he had no one to message, and the blur outside was more interesting anyway.
He noticed movement beside him. A boy had slid into the empty seat next to him with a quiet ease, carrying nothing more than a small bag. No flashy sneakers, no branded jacket, no phone glowing in his hand. Just a calm, measured presence.
"You don't seem nervous," Elias said, breaking the silence.
The boy turned, eyes narrowing slightly, but not in suspicion. Just observation. "I am," he replied, voice low and steady. "I just don't see a reason to show it."
Elias blinked. He expected a shrug, a smirk, maybe even silence but not that. There was something in the deliberate simplicity of the statement, a quiet confidence that was oddly unnerving.
He gave a small nod and returned to the window, letting the blur of snowy peaks pass. Yet he kept glancing at the boy beside him. The calmness, the effortless deatachment it was rare in a place like this, where anxiety seemed contagious.
The bus erupted in laughter behind him. Elias's attention flicked back to the aisle. A taller boy, wide-eyed and smiling, was weaving through the seats, greeting almost everyone by name. His energy radiated across the bus, pulling a few students into his orbit. Even from a distance, Elias could tell this one thrived on attention, on connection, on shaping the social tides of the bus without trying too hard.
Across the aisle, another boy short, neat, notebook in hand scribbled quietly, occasionally muttering corrections to himself when the guide mispronounced a word.
His attention to detail and rigid posture made him seem as though he would follow rules to the grave, an early hint that structure might be his survival tool here.
The bus rounded its final curve and slowed. From the windows, Elias got his first proper view of Helvetia Academy.
It was massive, spravling, impossible to take in at a glance. Dormitories, academic halls, small markets, and administrative buildings formed a cluster on the plateau.
Cobblestone streets wound betveen them, connecting classrooms to residences to shops. Beyond the academy's walls, mountains rose sharply, dotted with patches of pine, giving the illusion that the school existed in its own world.
"This is it," murmured the guide from the front of the bus. She rose, clipboard in hand, a professional smile frozen on her face. "Welcome to Helvetia Academy."
The words barely registered before she continued, her voice steady and deliberate. "You have been selected through a government lottery to join this institution. Helvetia Academy is not simply a school. It is an experiment in education and society. You will live here, learn here, and participate in the campus economy, elections, and community governance. Some rules you will discover gradually; others will be explained as you progress."
A vawe of murmurs rolled through the students. Excitement, confusion, skepticism all combined in overlapping threads of whispered questions. Elias's eyes drifted toward the boy beside him.
He hadn't moved. He hadn't flinched at the mention of elections or campus economy. He simply leaned back, hands folded behind his head, his expression unreadable.
"I'm Francis," the boy finally said, as though prompted by some invisible cue.
"Elias," he replied, glancing briefly at him. "So… you're fine with all of this?"
Francis shrugged, calm as ever. "It's a bus ride. The rest is noise until it starts. No reason to rush."
Elias stared, unsure if he should be impressed or irritated. The boy's detachment made him feel slightly off-balance. Here was someone entirely present yet completely uninvolved, like a rock in a river of chaos.
The guide's voice drew his attention back. "This campus is self-sufficient. You will live here as residents, not just students. There will be responsibilities, opportunities, and challenges. Obserwe, adapt, and find your place."
From the back of the bus came a burst of laughter again. Elias looked up to see the tall, energetic boy Julian teasing a few classmates. His grin was infectious, and a few of the more anxious students leaned forward to respond, drawn into his orbit even as the guide droned on.
Meanwhile, Simon, the shorter, precise one, flipped open his notebook, adjusting his uniform as if to silently protest the imperfect way the guide spoke. Elias could already imagine Simon scrutinizing every announcement, noting each word, preparing to hold the system accountable.
The bus crested the final hill, and the massive gates of Helvetia Academy rose into view. The emblem a stylized mountain peak encircled by interlocking rings gleamed in the early morning sun.
The students spilled from the bus, stretching cramped limbs, adjusting bags, whispering and laughing nervously. Elias kept his eyes on Francis, who moved with effortless calm, neither rushing nor lagging.
Julian bounded ahead, already waving at friends who had arrived earlier. Simon followed methodically, straightening a uniform collar, muttering reminders about order under his breath.
The guide gestured to the students. "Today, you will orient yourselves, meet your peers, and explore the campus. Remember, you are now residents of Helvetia Academy. Observe first, act second. Your place here will depend on how well you adapt."
Elias's mind raced.
Adapt… how? He watched the students around him, already forming micro-alliances, whispering about dorms, trading small favors and opinions. Everyone seemed to be performing in some way, trying to stake their claim in this strange new world.
Francis drifted beside him like a shadow, unhurried. Elias noticed the faint smirk tug at his lips as a group of overly enthusiastic students argued about where to eat first. He wasn't laughing, but he wasn't judging either. He simply existed, calm and untouchable, a living contrast to the restless crowd.
Julian's laughter rang out again, carrying across the courtyard. He was connecting, negotiating, pulling students into conversations, already testing the waters. Simon, of course, had begun quietly inspecting the official notice boards, muttering about missing information and incorrect procedures.
Elias couldn't stop himself from studying them all. The lottery had brought together a random set of students, but each of them was already displaying instincts, tendencies, and strategies — whether conscious or not. And he could feel that every interaction, every small choice, would ripple out, shaping alliances and rivalries in ways no one could predict yet.
As they walked further into the campus, Elias's gaze settled on Francis. There was something about the boy's effortless calm that seemed almost dangerous. Not in a physical sense, but in the way he observed everything, untouched by panic, untethered from expectation. Francis wasn't just surviving; he was choosing not to participate in the frenzied social currents swirling around them.
Elias's stomach twisted in a mix of curiosity and caution. He didn't know if he admired or envied him. All he knew was that in this strange, spravling experiment of a school, he would be watching.
Helvetia Academy wasn't just a school. It was a world, and today, the first moves had begun.