"What did you say?!"
The scream echoed through the narrow dormitory corridor.
A girl had a young red-haired student pinned against the wall, gripping her by the hair so violently strands were ripping out with the wires of her messy braid.
The redhead's face was smeared with bruises, spit running down her cheek as tears streamed continuously.
Around them, several Class E students watched — equally bruised, equally angry.
But their anger wasn't for the aggressor.
It was for the girl being beaten.
The redhead's trembling hands tried to grab the attacker's wrist, but each time she gathered a bit of strength, the girl slammed her free fist into Maya's forearm, numbing it instantly.
"S-stop! Please, stop!" the redhead begged, her voice cracking.
"Stop? Stop!?" the attacker screamed, spit flying. "We're all in Class E! We suffer every day! What right do you have to beg people from Class C and B to help you?! You think you're better than us!?"
With every word, her fury only grew hotter.
Her hand shot to Maya's throat, squeezing until the girl choked and clawed weakly at her wrist.
"You're nothing but a useless slut! You don't train, you don't fight, you just beg! You make all of us look worse!"
Maya's legs gave out as the choke tightened.
The other Class E students shifted impatiently — not to help.
But because they wanted their turn.
This was normal in the Triangle.
Class E devoured its own.
Far down the hall, a dark-haired young man stood with his back against the wall, arms crossed, watching in silence.
His jaw was clenched so hard it was shaking.
Dreyden Stella.
"In the novel I only saw this in a memory," he muttered under his breath.
"But seeing it in person… pisses me off more than I thought."
Maya.
The last survivor of an original family.
An inheritor of reality manipulation — the rarest of all original abilities.
Living like this.
Begging for help.
Getting beaten for it.
A living contradiction.
A flaw in the Triangle's "meritocracy."
Dreyden's fists tightened until his knuckles cracked.
"Seeing the wielder of an original ability treated like trash… this is insane."
He wanted to jump in immediately — but he didn't.
Not until Maya's body finally went limp.
Only then did his restraint snap.
His magic roared.
He shot forward in a single burst, flames igniting around his fist and leaving a scorching trail behind him.
The crowd split instantly when they recognized the Class A uniform.
Fear rippled outward like a wave.
Dreyden ignored all of them.
His flames burned his own skin as he charged — but he didn't care.
He only saw Maya's unconscious body hanging from someone else's grasp.
He stepped right up to the attacker.
No words.
No warning.
Just—
BOOM.
His fist, blazing blue from overloaded magic, slammed into the girl's stomach with enough force to lift her off her feet and send her crashing into the wall.
Her clothes burned and smoked where his flames had touched.
She collapsed with a sickening thud.
Silence.
Even the Class E students stared in terror, unsure if she was alive.
Dreyden didn't spare her a glance.
"She's alive," he said flatly.
That made it worse — because if he wanted, she wouldn't be.
The Class E students panicked and scattered like rats.
Students from higher classes, who had wandered in to watch the spectacle, backed up quickly but didn't leave. They watched him with wide eyes — fearful, stunned, curious.
Dreyden knelt beside the unconscious redhead.
He removed his outer uniform jacket and wrapped it gently around her shaking body.
Gasps spread through the hall.
No one, absolutely no one, covered a Class E student with a Class A uniform.
He lifted her into his arms and walked forward.
The students parted without a sound — terrified to even meet his eyes.
Maya drifted in darkness.
Her neck throbbed.
Her ribs ached.
Her scalp burned.
She tried to open her eyes, but even thinking hurt.
"A-Argh…"
She gasped softly and shifted—
"Don't get up."
The voice was deep.
Firm.
Warm.
Her body reacted before her mind did, freezing instantly.
She opened her eyes slowly.
A ceiling she didn't recognize.
A smell she didn't recognize.
A room.
A private room.
Class E doesn't have private rooms…
Confused, panicked, she sat up anyway—ignoring the command.
Then she froze.
She was wearing a uniform jacket.
A Class A uniform jacket.
Her heart dropped to her stomach.
"No… no, this isn't… why am I wearing—?"
The boy sitting on the floor opened his eyes.
Dark skin
Broad shoulders
Eyes sharp and calm
A faint burn mark across his forearm
Chest glistening with sweat from magic circulation
Dreyden.
Her voice wavered.
"W-who…?"
"So you woke up," he said, standing and sitting gently on the edge of the bed.
Her body trembled violently.
Class A students meant one thing:
Power.
Violence.
Domination.
"Y-you're from Class A…" she whispered, voice breaking. "P-please… please don't hit me…"
She sobbed quietly, curling into herself.
Dreyden blinked, stunned — then his expression softened with something she hadn't seen in a long time.
Pity.
"I'm not going to hit you," he said gently.
She peeked through her fingers.
"You're… not?"
"No. You asked for help. I'm going to help you."
Her breath caught.
"…Y-You are?"
"Of course." He pointed to the bathroom. "But first, wash up. You're hurt everywhere."
She looked down at her torn clothes, bruises, dried blood, and swallowed hard.
"I… I… okay…"
She stumbled off the bed, but before leaving—
"W-wait!" she said. "Your name… what's your name?"
Dreyden raised an eyebrow.
"You didn't recognize it? I thought everyone was talking about me today."
She shook her head fiercely. "No one tells me anything."
He hesitated — then smiled faintly.
"Dreyden Stella."
She blinked.
Her shoulders shook again.
Not from fear this time.
But from relief.
She rushed into the bathroom and closed the door.
Hot water fell over Maya's bruised body, and for the first time in months — maybe years — she felt warmth.
Real warmth.
Her name is Maya Serenity, last daughter of the Serenity family — once rulers of reality itself.
Original families.
Original abilities.
Power above all power.
And yet here she was.
Bruised.
Weak.
Starving.
Begging strangers for help.
Her mother's last words echoed:
"Your ability will make you great. Don't be afraid. You have a bright future."
Maya squeezed her hands until her knuckles whitened.
"If this is a dream…" she whispered, "…don't let me wake up."
Her fingers brushed her long hair — or what was left of it.
She gasped.
One side was torn short from the earlier assault.
Tears welled up again.
She grabbed the scissors near the sink and, with trembling hands, began cutting the rest to match.
Each snip hurt her heart more than her scalp.
But… when she looked in the mirror afterward, a different girl stared back.
Still broken.
Still scared.
But cleaner.
Warmer.
Safer.
She put on the spare uniform folded beside the sink — Dreyden's spare uniform — and stepped back into the room.
He was still on the floor, eyes closed, sweat dripping down his temples from magic training.
She stared.
He looked… tired.
Human.
Not a monster like the others.
She sat quietly on the bed.
He opened one eye.
"You finally came out."
She swallowed and nodded.
His calm smile made her heart twist painfully.
"It's okay," he said. "We'll talk now. I'm not letting you go back to that hell."
Her breath trembled.
Because for the first time in forever—
She believed someone.