Azrael walked a step behind Violette and Selena.
He could feel it instantly.
The weight.
The stares.
They followed him like invisible chains dragging against the marble floor. Conversations dimmed as they passed. Students slowed. Some openly stared. Others whispered behind raised hands, pretending subtlety.
Azrael didn't need to look around to understand.
Being surrounded by two women like that was not something granted to just anyone.
Selena moved with natural grace, her silver hair reflecting the fading sunlight like liquid metal. The black uniform fit her perfectly, sharp and refined, contrasting the sea of white worn by the other students. She didn't need jewels. She didn't need decoration. Her very existence demanded attention.
Violette walked on the other side with relaxed confidence, hands loosely behind her back, a faint smile playing on her lips as if she enjoyed every whisper echoing around them. There was something dangerous about how comfortable she looked.
And then there was him.
A boy from the slums. Wearing black. Walking beside a princess and—apparently—someone important enough to move freely at her side.
No wonder the air felt suffocating.
"This is absurd," Azrael thought. "I look like some misplaced ornament between them."
The silence stretched on.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
Someone had to break it.
Unfortunately, that someone was him.
He swallowed once. The question had been bothering him since earlier. He didn't want the answer. But ignorance irritated him more than disappointment.
He exhaled.
Azrael: "So… Violette. Do you know my professor? What is he like?"
The moment the words left his mouth, he felt regret creeping in.
Violette stopped walking.
There was half a second of stillness.
Then she burst into laughter.
Not a polite chuckle.
A full, unrestrained laugh.
She leaned forward slightly, covering her mouth as her shoulders shook.
Violette: "Oh… that's adorable."
Azrael's eye twitched.
Violette: "It's me. I'm your professor, kid."
Silence.
His brain processed the sentence slowly.
Then he raised his hand and pressed it against his forehead.
A soft but sincere facepalm.
"Of course," he thought bitterly. "Of course fate would do this."
Behind them, whispers grew louder.
Selena, however, had already slowed her pace.
They had reached the main courtyard.
And the world opened before them.
White marble statues lined the edges of the vast open space — ancient heroes, past rulers, legendary figures frozen in stone. Golden and white banners bearing the national crest fluttered between tall pillars. The entrance ceremony was still alive below, distant cheers and laughter drifting upward.
The academy stood at the highest point of the city.
From here, everything was visible.
The entire capital stretched outward beneath them.
Azrael noticed Selena had stopped completely.
She was staring outward.
At first, he didn't understand what held her so still.
Then he looked up.
And saw it.
The sky had transformed without him realizing.
The sun was descending beyond the horizon, spilling pink and orange across layered clouds. The light painted the marble statues in warmth, softening their cold stone edges.
And rising slowly behind the fading glow were the two moons.
One deep blue.
The other a lighter blue, like lake water reflecting starlight.
The transition between sunset and night was seamless.
Beautiful.
The city below began to glow.
Lights flickered on one by one — warm orange lanterns, pale blue magical lamps, golden windows. Different colors, different intensities, yet shining together in harmony.
From this height, the noise of the city softened into something almost peaceful.
Distant echoes of children playing.
Music somewhere unseen.
Crowded streets still alive with celebration.
Banners hanging from nearly every visible corner.
"This…" Azrael thought slowly, "…is the most beautiful façade this country has to offer."
Even he — who never wasted time admiring skies or landscapes — felt drawn in.
He forced himself to look away.
And looked at Selena instead.
Her expression wasn't pride.
It wasn't arrogance.
It was something else entirely.
Melancholy.
And protectiveness.
Her gaze held the city the way a mother holds her newborn for the first time.
Gentle.
Resolute.
A silent vow of protection.
A look that reassures.
A look that makes you forget past suffering.
Azrael felt something unfamiliar twist in his chest.
"What is this feeling?"
"…Pity?"
"For her?"
The thought irritated him immediately.
He turned back to the city one last time.
"So that's what you have to protect?" he thought.
"Then hurry up and find the strength to do it."
He would never say it out loud.
He refused to give her that.
As he shifted slightly, he realized Violette had been watching him.
Not laughing.
Not teasing.
Just observing.
Their eyes met.
Slowly, deliberately, Violette's lips curved upward.
She gave him a wink.
Then she lifted her hand casually and made a small waving gesture toward him — like wishing him good luck.
Azrael froze internally.
His stomach tightened.
She had seen the way he looked at Selena.
And she had misunderstood.
Or maybe she understood too well.
He felt immediate regret.
"Idiot," he thought. "Why did I let myself get carried away?"
He wanted to clarify.
To say she was wrong.
That whatever she imagined — it wasn't desire.
It wasn't admiration.
It was something far more complicated.
He replayed the moment in his head.
The protectiveness in Selena's eyes.
The burden she carried.
The façade of beauty covering something fragile.
No.
It wasn't attraction.
It was recognition.
Of weight.
Of responsibility.
Of something neither of them had chosen.
The last trace of sunlight disappeared.
The two moons now ruled the sky.
Cool blue light replaced warm orange glow.
Azrael slipped his hands into his pockets.
"This place is built on beauty," he thought.
"And beauty always hides something underneath."
He looked once more between the princess and his newly revealed professor.
Possession.
Protection.
Misinterpretation.
Power.
This academy would not simply test strength.
It would test perception.
And restraint.
The whispers around them had not stopped.
If anything, they had grown.
Azrael inhaled slowly.
Let them stare.
Let them talk.
The night had only just begun.