Miss Thalia, we meet at last." Headmaster David's smile curved on his lips. It was the kind of smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, the sort used by men who were comfortable with power. His tone was calm and measured, echoing slightly in the large, high-ceilinged room.
"You look smaller than I thought," he added jokingly. He tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowing with a flicker of genuine amusement. He sat behind a desk that looked like it was carved from a single, massive piece of dark wood.
I didn't let my expression crumble. Instead, I forced a small, polite smile. "Sometimes the smallest people do the biggest things," I replied.
I watched him carefully. I knew that Headmaster David was a man who liked confidence. In a school filled with the children of the elite, he had seen every kind of arrogance imaginable. He valued talented minds and prided himself on the idea that he didn't care about a person's background, only their potential to bring glory to the academy. To earn his respect, you had to be bold. You couldn't be a shadow.
In my past life, this meeting had been a disaster. I had walked into this room feeling like a thief who had stolen a seat at a table where I didn't belong. I had been timid and hesitant. My answers had lacked strength, and I had kept my eyes on the expensive rug rather than on him. Because of that, he had written me off as just another scholarship student who would eventually be crushed by the weight of the school's social pressure.
This time, I met his gaze directly. I didn't look away. I let him see the steel in my eyes.
"Oh," the headmaster said. He leaned back slightly in his chair, the leather creaking under his weight. He was still watching me with that same amusement, but there was a new layer of curiosity there. He wasn't used to Fourteen-year-olds looking him in the eye without blinking.
"I'll be heading back now," Miss Lyra said from behind me. Her voice was clipped and tight. She didn't wait for a response before she turned and walked out of the office. The heavy door closed with a solid, muffled thud, leaving the room much quieter. With her gone, the air felt clearer, less heavy with the scent of her expensive, floral perfume.
Headmaster David stood up. He moved with a slow, deliberate grace, coming around the side of his massive table and walking toward the sofa area. He sat down on the right side and gestured toward the empty seat across from him.
"Sit. We can't have our new star genius standing."
I walked over and lowered myself onto the opposite sofa. The leather was soft and smelled of cedar. Between us sat a smaller table, its surface polished to such a high gleam that I could see the reflection of the lamps on the wall. The arrangement felt very deliberate. It was a stage for conversations that mattered, a place where the Headmaster "sized up" the students who were supposed to be the future of the country.
"Miss Thalia," he began, his voice steady and resonant. "I would like to welcome you again to our great academy. Sliversaint Academy didn't earn its recognition just for nothing. We earned it through years of dedication and by providing the best environment for our students to learn. We take pride in our history and the caliber of the individuals we produce."
I sat there and listened, nodding occasionally. I knew all of this already. Sliversaint Academy was famous for its reputation, but it was also famous for its star rankings. It was a special system designed to highlight students whose academic performance exceeded others. On paper, it was meant to create a stage of healthy competition. It was meant to inspire, to push students beyond their limits, and to make them sharper.
Of course, I had made it into the star ranks. That achievement had earned me a place in the star section—a space reserved for those considered the academy's brightest. In my previous life, I had thought it was a privilege. I had thought it would be a sanctuary for excellence, a place where I could finally be among people who valued books over bank accounts.
But in truth, the star section was not what I had expected. It was less about growth and more about display. It was a place where pride was sharpened into arrogance and where competition turned into a constant, ugly noise. Instead of quiet focus, there was the suffocating weight of constant comparison. Instead of encouragement, there was rivalry dressed as friendship.
Although I had earned my way into it, I hated it. It was a beautiful, gilded cage.
I waited for him to finish his speech before I spoke. My tone was calm but firm. "I understand, Headmaster. I wouldn't have applied otherwise, since I can easily top any other scholarship exams as well."
The words hung in the air like a challenge. I could almost see the shift in his expression. Sliversaint Academy held immense pride in its entrance exam. It was known as one of the most difficult in the country, a test so grueling that even the children of the wealthy spent years with private tutors just to pass. To dismiss it so casually, as if it were just another paper, was a bold move. Some might even call it reckless.
Headmaster David stared at me for a long heartbeat. Then, he let out a laugh. It was a deep, genuine sound that seemed to fill the room.
"It's been ages since someone has made my heart race," he said, shaking his head. "So, you're saying our exams are nothing but a minor inconvenience to you? Hahaha."
I held his gaze, my voice steady. "They're a barrier. Barriers exist to be crossed."
He leaned back, his eyes gleaming with approval. This was the reaction I wanted. He didn't want a student who was grateful just to be here; he wanted a student who felt they were better than the school itself. "Confidence. Precision. A sense of scale. Good," he muttered, almost to himself.
The silence that followed wasn't heavy or awkward. It was the kind of silence that allowed thoughts to settle. It was a pause designed to test whether my words had weight or if I was just bluffing. I stayed perfectly still, my hands folded in my lap.
"Okay, Miss Thalia, I look forward to how much you can surprise this old man." His smile softened, but his tone carried a sharp, underlying challenge. "I am sure you understand how the scholarships work. The school pays for everything you need—tuition, books, and board. We will also be paying you a weekly allowance, considering your… background. But don't let that discourage you. Under my eyes, all students are equals here. We value the mind above all else."
His words were steady, but I listened to the subtext. Equality. It was a word that sounded noble, but I knew that reality was rarely so simple. In this school, equality was a myth sold to the public.
You will be taken to your dorm," he continued, reaching for a folder on the table. "You may choose to stay or leave for the holidays if you wish."
I leaned forward slightly. I needed to say this before he ended the meeting. My voice cut through his next sentence. "What about the school's policy on bullying?"
The question seemed to physically hit him. Headmaster David frowned, his thick brow tightening. The jovial atmosphere vanished instantly.
"Miss Thalia, why would you ask that?" His tone carried a mix of surprise and sharp disapproval. It was the tone of a man who didn't like his perfect world being questioned.
I straightened up. I didn't let the shift in his mood intimidate me. "Because it exists everywhere," I said, my voice firm. "You can say that all students are equal, but that isn't true. If a student with a powerful background, or the child of one of the academy's major donors, decides to give me a hard time… I'm just an orphan. I have no family, no name, and no one to defend me. The academy wouldn't want to offend a powerful family for the sake of an orphan, would it?"
Silence fell over the room. This time, it was heavy. It was deliberate.
Headmaster David looked at me, his eyes steady and unmoving. He didn't give a response for a long while. The room felt colder in that pause. The polished table between us reflected the tension, showing two figures locked in a silent standoff. I knew he was calculating the truth of my words against the image of the school.
I had lived this truth once already. I had felt the sting of those "equals" and the silence of the administration. I wouldn't let it swallow me again. I had forced the question into the light, and now, he had to look at it.