Raymond Baskerville walked slowly as he left the bounds of the examination grounds.
The air was heavy with the scent of roses, meticulously planted throughout every corner of the academy's central plaza. Murmurs of scattered students filled the space, blending into an indistinct noise.
Despite his attempt to ignore it, being the focus of lingering stares and hushed whispers made his chest tighten unbearably.
(Was coming here even the right decision to begin with?)
The thought slipped into his mind uninvited.
Being an outcast was nothing new to him—but it had never been easy.
And when your only attempt to prove your worth becomes the very reason others turn away from you… what meaning does it hold then?
Raymond Baskerville was not the type to chase shallow relationships or false pleasantries.
Pretending kindness just to secure a place among others?
He found the idea repulsive.
If anything, being ostracized felt more comfortable than falsifying himself for acceptance.
And yet…
In moments like this—walking alone amid the noise of others—
When the sense of not belonging overwhelms him, when he feels misunderstood—
A suffocating loneliness creeps in, hollow and merciless…
Stripping his existence of any sense of value.
Before he realized it, his feet had carried him into a secluded corner—a narrow stone passage, far removed from the central plaza and its clamor.
He muttered with an irritated exhale,
"I hate noise… even when it's joyful."
Suddenly—
He collided forcefully with someone.
Both of them fell to the ground.
Raymond groaned, pressing a hand to his forehead.
"Don't you watch where you're going?!"
He lifted his head angrily—only for the sharp edge of his anger to dull.
The other young man was holding his nose, silent.
Raymond studied him for a moment… then unconsciously softened his tone.
"Ah… never mind. That was my fault too."
It was Gilbert—who had left the arena after his match, seeking a quiet place to gather his thoughts.
Gilbert looked at him calmly.
"I apologize as well."
Gilbert stood first, dusted off his clothes, then extended a hand toward Raymond.
"Take my hand."
Raymond hesitated, then sighed and stood up on his own.
"I don't need it… but thank you."
Without another word, he continued on his way, giving a brief, casual wave as he left.
Gilbert watched him go, then glanced at his own outstretched hand and smiled wryly.
"If you're grateful, you could at least accept the help…" he muttered.
He turned away and resumed walking.
As for Raymond Baskerville—
As he walked on without even knowing where he was headed, a heavy unease settled over him.
He stared at his hand and muttered bitterly,
"I wonder… would he have offered his hand if he knew who I was?"
His eyes darkened for a moment before a strange realization struck him.
(Wasn't I irritated just moments ago?
Why did I lower my voice when speaking to him?
There was no pretense about him—his eyes were unusually clear, like a cloudless sky that hid nothing behind it…
I really don't know how to deal with people like that.)
Then—without warning—
Something flashed through his mind, like a foggy image that appeared for a split second before vanishing.
A figure clad in white, stained with crimson blood.
The scene wasn't clear—but it felt disturbingly familiar.
A sharp headache tore through his skull, as if his mind were about to shatter.
He leaned against the stone wall of the isolated rear courtyard his feet had unknowingly led him to, sweat pouring down his brow—
And then, something inside his mind disconnected.
The memories of the past few moments vanished completely.
All he could do was murmur in a low voice,
"What… was that?
What is this heavy feeling… something familiar, unsettling, impossible to explain?"
He raised his head toward the gray sky, as if it concealed an answer he could not reach.
Then he lowered his gaze, closed his eyes, and exhaled.
(Whatever it is… I'll ignore it.
First, I need to leave this suffocating place.)
Choosing not to dwell on it, Raymond brushed the incident aside—unaware that this episode was merely the beginning of everything.
---
---
Not far from the former testing grounds, Gilbert stood beside one of the stone pillars, lost in thought, his expression unreadable.
As the clock neared six thirty in the evening and the sun disappeared behind the mountains, lanterns across the plaza flickered to life one after another.
A few steps away, Athena approached with steady strides, scanning the area for Gilbert.
When she spotted him, she said nothing at first—but as she drew closer, she smiled and spoke energetically,
"Ah, there you are. You weren't easy to find."
Her voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He lifted his head, looking toward her as she approached from his right.
"Sorry. I didn't realize how late it had gotten."
"Well, it's not the first time," she replied lightly.
"Anyway, the results will be announced soon. Do you want to head back to the central plaza?"
He walked alongside her and answered,
"There's nothing else to do. Let's go."
As they walked side by side, Athena broke the silence again.
"By the way… did you happen to pass by a young man about your height, with platinum-blond hair?"
Gilbert's eyes widened slightly before he looked at her in surprise.
"I'm not sure if it's the same person, but… yes. I felt something strange about him—something I couldn't explain. Why do you ask?"
"I'm not entirely sure myself," she admitted.
"But I saw part of his match. He's strong—but like you said, strange. Or rather… there's something different about him. I couldn't figure it out either."
"I see… What about Ethan?"
Athena averted her gaze, watching the thinning crowd as she replied quietly,
"He seemed completely spaced out, so I slipped away and left him behind."
"…You didn't really need to stay with him anyway."
After walking a short distance, they spotted the crowd gathered around the notice board.
The top ten names were displayed separately from the rest:
1. Elliot Kent
2. Lucas Hertford
3. Gilbert Klein
4. Raymond Baskerville
5. Athena Klein
6. Eccles Christopher
7. Beatrice Driessen
8. William Astria
9. Ophelia Morris
10. Christian de Cullen
After confirming the list, the two focused on several familiar names.
Gilbert muttered,
"With that level of talent, only seventh place… something's wrong with that."
Though his voice was low, Athena heard him clearly—but chose not to comment. Instead, she added,
"That young man we were talking about… he's ranked fourth. Lucas is second, and you're right between them. Does that mean your evaluations were extremely close?"
"If the rankings were based purely on the test results, then they're unfair."
(I didn't perform as well as Lucas, nor was my performance flawless like Beatrice's…
So why am I ranked here?)
His gaze darkened as thoughts of his own inadequacy surfaced—feelings unfamiliar and deeply unpleasant.
And they wouldn't fade easily, not until he felt a genuine change within himself.
He looked back at the board.
That name was listed directly beneath his.
(Raymond Baskerville… so that's his name.
Judging by Athena's reaction, he's exceptional too.
I think I'm looking forward to seeing his strength for myself.)
Nearby, Athena scanned the area once more, searching for Ethan.
After losing sight of him entirely, she sighed.
(Looks like that nuisance vanished without a trace again…)