The kitchen table had three legs that touched the floor evenly and one that didn't. Do-Hun knew which corner to avoid when he set his elbows down. He'd lived with that wobble for sixteen years.
His mother folded the academy uniform across from him. The fabric was supposed to be deep blue, but patches in lighter shades covered both elbows and the left shoulder. She'd spent two weeks on those patches, matching the stitching so carefully that you had to look close to see where old cloth became new. Her fingers smoothed each crease with the same attention she gave to mending rice sacks for the market vendors.
Rain hammered the tin roof overhead. The sound made it hard to think, but Do-Hun tried anyway. He watched his father's hands instead of his face. Jang-Su's fingers were callused enough that the skin looked like old leather, thick and cracked in places that never quite healed. Those hands pushed three copper coins across the scarred wood, followed by a creased application form that had been folded and unfolded so many times the paper felt soft as fabric.
"This is everything," his father said.
Do-Hun knew what everything meant. The coins were their savings from four years of his father hauling crates at the docks and his mother taking in washing. The application had cost them two weeks of meals to purchase from the registrar's office. Everything meant there wasn't anything left after this.
"I'll pay it back," Do-Hun said. The words sounded stupid even as he said them. Paying back three copper coins shouldn't be hard, but they all knew it was.
His mother looked up from the uniform. Her eyes were sharp enough to catch a crooked seam from across the room, and right now they were studying his face the same way. "You'll study hard. That's how you pay it back."
Do-Hun nodded, though he wasn't sure studying would be enough. The Ludwigsburg Knight Academy didn't accept people from the slums very often. They especially didn't accept people with Black-grade abilities. He had two of them, both marked as unique on his registry papers, both completely useless as far as anyone could tell.
Emotion Amplifier made feelings stronger. That was it. Get angry and you'd get furious instead. Get sad and you'd be miserable. Helpful.
Chord to Power was supposed to do something with those amplified emotions, but Do-Hun had never managed to make it work. The registry clerk had explained it like he was talking to a child. "Emotional intensity converts to output. Theoretically." The clerk had stamped both abilities as Black-grade and moved on to the next applicant.
His father picked up the coins and pressed them into Do-Hun's palm. The metal was warm. "The academy has dormitories. You won't need to come back until winter break."
That was the part Do-Hun hadn't wanted to think about. Leaving meant his parents would be alone here with the broken table and the leaking roof and whatever new debt they'd have to take on to buy rice. The loan sharks in the slum didn't care about academy students or their hopeful families.
"I can visit," Do-Hun said.
"No." His mother's voice was firm enough to make him look at her. "You visit and you'll miss classes. You miss classes and you'll fall behind. You fall behind and all of this was for nothing."
She was right. Do-Hun hated that she was right, but arguing wouldn't change anything. He closed his fingers around the coins and nodded.
The uniform was still draped across her lap. She picked it up and held it out to him. "Try it on before you go. I want to see."
Do-Hun took it and walked to the corner of the room they used for changing. The fabric felt heavier than he'd expected. When he pulled it on, the shoulders fit well enough, but the sleeves were a little short. Growing up without enough food meant he was leaner than the academy probably expected its students to be.
His mother smiled when he turned around. His father nodded once, which was about as much approval as the man ever showed.
"You look like a knight already," his mother said.
Do-Hun didn't feel like a knight. He felt like a kid from the slums wearing a borrowed coat. But he smiled back anyway and told her it fit perfectly.
***
The walk to Ludwigsburg took most of the morning. Do-Hun left before dawn, while his parents were still asleep. He didn't trust himself to say goodbye properly.
The slum alleys were narrow enough that he could touch both walls if he stretched his arms out. Most of the storefronts were boarded up, and the few that weren't sold things nobody needed at prices nobody could afford. An old man sat in a doorway, hands cupped for coins that wouldn't come. Do-Hun thought about giving him one of the coppers but didn't. Three coins weren't enough to split.
The alleys eventually opened onto a wider street, then a cobblestone highway that stretched toward the city proper. Do-Hun had only been this far a handful of times. The slum didn't have much reason to leave itself.
Ludwigsburg's spires were visible from miles away. They rose against grey clouds like stone fingers, tall enough that you couldn't see the tops when the fog rolled in. Do-Hun kept his eyes on them as he walked. The highway widened with every mile, and the crowd grew richer in stages. First came laborers heading to factory jobs. Then clerks and shopkeepers. Then merchants with carts full of goods.
Do-Hun's patched coat stood out more with every step. A woman in a clean dress pulled her child closer when he walked past. A merchant gave him a look that suggested he should find a different road to travel. Do-Hun kept his head down and kept walking.
The academy gates were iron and reached three times his height. Marble arches framed them on both sides, carved with reliefs showing knights in battle. The figures were all muscular and heroic, frozen mid-swing with swords and shields. Do-Hun wondered if any of them had started out in patched coats.
He passed through the gates behind a group of students who were already wearing their uniforms. Their fabric didn't have any patches. One of them glanced back at him, then whispered something to his friend. They both laughed.
The courtyard beyond the gates was massive. Formations of cadets practiced drills in neat rows, their movements synchronized enough that Do-Hun could hear the sound of their boots hitting the ground at the same moment. Instructors walked between the lines, shouting corrections that echoed off the stone walls.
A queue of nervous applicants stood near the main building. Do-Hun joined the end of it and tried not to notice how many of them were staring at his sleeves. The frayed edges had gotten worse during the walk.
The boy in front of him wore silk and had a family crest embroidered on his chest. Do-Hun didn't recognize the design, but it looked expensive. The boy turned and looked him over with the kind of expression people used when they found something unpleasant on the bottom of their shoe.
"Lost?" the boy asked.
Do-Hun shook his head. "I'm here for registration."
"Really." The boy's tone made it clear what he thought about that. "What's your grade?"
Do-Hun hesitated. Saying Black out loud felt like admitting to a crime. "I have two abilities."
"That's not what I asked."
The line moved forward before Do-Hun had to answer. He was grateful for that much.
***
The registry hall was vaulted and cold. A clerk sat behind a long desk at the front, calling names from a list. Each applicant stepped forward, and their information appeared on a luminous board mounted on the wall behind the desk. Grade markers lit up in different colors. Most were green or blue. A few were purple. Do-Hun watched the board and counted the seconds until his name was called.
"Do-Hun."
He stepped forward. The board flickered, then displayed his name in sharp letters. Two markers appeared beside it, both black.
The whispers started immediately.
Do-Hun didn't turn around. He kept his eyes on the clerk, who was squinting at a piece of paper like it might be a mistake.
"Two Black-grade abilities," the clerk said aloud. "Both unique. Both marked as evolving."
The whispers got louder. Do-Hun heard someone say "evolving" like it was a disease.
The silk-wearing boy from the line stepped forward. Do-Hun recognized him now. Kael von Arlen. The name had been on the board two spots before his own, marked with Sapphire-grade next to a single ability.
Kael stopped in front of Do-Hun and looked at him for a long moment. Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out two copper coins, and dropped them at Do-Hun's feet.
"Charity for the cripple," Kael said.
The hall went quiet. Do-Hun stared at the coins on the floor. They looked exactly like the ones his parents had given him.
Someone laughed. Then someone else. Then the whole hall was laughing, and Do-Hun felt his face go hot.
He bent down and picked up the coins. His hands were shaking. He wanted to throw them back at Kael's face, but he didn't. He just stood there, holding them, while the laughter continued.
The clerk cleared his throat. "Move along. Next applicant."
Do-Hun stepped aside. Kael walked past him, smiling.
***
The ability demonstration was mandatory. A proctor announced it in the central yard, explaining that all applicants needed to show their capabilities before final acceptance. Do-Hun stood near the back of the crowd and hoped he'd be overlooked.
He wasn't.
"We'll need a volunteer to demonstrate first," the proctor said. He was scanning the crowd, looking for someone.
Kael raised his hand. "I'll go. And I'll take a partner."
The proctor nodded. "Choose someone."
Kael pointed at Do-Hun. "Him. It'll be educational."
The crowd formed a loose ring around the yard's center. Do-Hun walked forward slowly, trying to figure out how this was going to go. The proctor set a resonance stone between them. It was a smooth sphere that glowed faintly, designed to measure power output during ability use.
"Standard demonstration rules," the proctor said. "No lethal force. First to touch the stone wins."
Kael drew a sword from his belt. It wasn't a practice weapon. The blade caught the light and gleamed.
Do-Hun didn't have a weapon. He didn't have anything except his two useless abilities and a growing sense that this was about to get ugly.
"Begin," the proctor said.
Kael moved fast. He feinted a strike toward Do-Hun's left, then shifted right. Do-Hun tried to dodge and stumbled instead, catching his foot on uneven stone. He went down hard, landing on his shoulder.
The crowd laughed again. Do-Hun heard someone shout, "Get up, cripple!"
He pushed himself to his feet. His shoulder ached. Kael was circling him now, sword raised, smiling like this was the best entertainment he'd had in weeks.
"Come on," Kael said. "Show us what Black-grade can do."
Do-Hun felt something shift inside his chest. The laughter around him was getting louder, and the sound was pressing against his skull like a weight. His vision started to narrow. The shame he'd felt in the hall was twisting into something sharper.
Humiliation turned to anger.
Anger started to amplify.
He could feel Emotion Amplifier activating. It wasn't subtle. The rage built in layers, each one hotter than the last, until his hands were shaking and his breathing was coming in short, sharp bursts.
Kael feinted again. Do-Hun didn't move. He was too focused on the feeling in his chest, the heat spreading outward.
Then a younger applicant stumbled into the ring. The kid couldn't have been more than thirteen, and he looked terrified. He'd been pushed by someone in the crowd.
Kael's follow-up swing was already in motion. The blade arced toward the kid's head.
Do-Hun's fury peaked.
Something snapped.
Faint chord-like lines rippled outward from his chest, visible in the air like cracks in glass. They pulsed once, twice, then blazed white-gold. Do-Hun's palms shot forward without him thinking about it.
A shockwave exploded from his hands.
The kid was shoved clear, tumbling across the stones but unharmed. The resonance stone shattered into pieces. The flagstones cracked in a three-meter radius, spiderwebbing outward from where Do-Hun stood.
Silence.
Do-Hun gasped for air. His hands were still trembling. He stared at them, trying to understand what had just happened.
Then he heard the voices.
*"End him."*
The first one was sharp and red, hissing inside his skull like a heated blade.
*"Contain it."*
The second was cold and blue, calm enough to sound detached.
*"That was amazing!"*
The third was bright green, laughing like this was a game.
*"Are you okay?"*
The fourth was faint and pink, quiet enough that he almost missed it.
Each voice had a different colored speech bubble overlaying his vision. They appeared for just a second, then vanished.
Do-Hun blinked. The voices were gone, but the feeling of them lingered.
The cadets were scattering now. Some of them were running. Guards rushed forward, carrying dampening cuffs designed to suppress abilities. The proctor was shouting for the Headmaster.
Do-Hun knelt on the cracked stones, still staring at his hands. Kael was standing a few feet away, pale and silent.
***
Headmaster Ludwig Arendt arrived wearing ceremonial robes that looked too clean for the dusty yard. Two faculty members flanked him, both watching Do-Hun like he might explode again.
The Headmaster stopped in front of the broken stones and examined the damage. His expression didn't change.
"Volatility risk," he said finally. "Immediate expulsion unless a supervising instructor accepts liability."
Do-Hun felt his stomach drop. Expulsion meant going home. Going home meant his parents had sacrificed everything for nothing.
"I will."
The voice came from the crowd. Do-Hun looked up and saw a man stepping forward. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with grey at his temples and a permanent stern expression. He wore worn armor under a cloak, and his hands looked like they'd seen more fights than anyone else in the yard.
The Headmaster frowned. "Rainer. You're not authorized to—"
"I'm authorized to supervise probationary students," Rainer said. "Check the charter."
The Headmaster's frown deepened, but he didn't argue. He turned to Do-Hun instead. "Probationary quarters. Daily evaluations. One more incident and you're gone."
Do-Hun nodded quickly. "Understood."
Rainer gestured for him to follow. Do-Hun stood and walked across the yard, feeling every stare that followed him. The hostile looks didn't stop until they'd crossed into a quieter section of the campus.
"Thank you," Do-Hun said quietly.
Rainer didn't answer. He just kept walking.
They passed the main dormitories and headed toward a smaller building near the edge of the grounds. The probationary quarters, apparently. Do-Hun glanced back at the yard and saw guards still inspecting the cracked stones.
Something glinted in the rubble.
Do-Hun stopped. "Wait."
Rainer turned. "What?"
"I saw something." Do-Hun walked back toward the broken resonance stone. The guards were too busy arguing about repairs to notice him.
He knelt and sifted through the debris. His fingers found a shard of obsidian, palm-sized and carved with a spiral sigil. It hummed faintly when he touched it, warm against his skin.
Rainer's shadow fell over him. "What is that?"
Do-Hun didn't know. He turned the shard over in his hands, studying the spiral. It looked old, worn smooth in places like it had been handled for years.
The hum grew louder. The warmth spread up his fingers, into his wrist.
Then the glow faded to black.
Do-Hun pocketed the shard and looked up at Rainer, who was watching him with an expression Do-Hun couldn't read.
"Come on," Rainer said. "We have a lot to talk about."