"We need to go down this hall and up the southern flight of stairs," Michael said, glancing at the map within his violet emblem as he led Rudy through the great hall.

They were on their way to their first class of the academy year—Mana Theory.

After a moment, the two boys found the classroom without much trouble. Stepping through the weathered wooden doors, they entered a spacious room.

To the left, a set of stairs led up to rows of long desks that spanned the width of the room—each row positioned higher than the last, ensuring that even those seated at the back could see the front of the class.

To the right stood a desk and a large blackboard, likely where the teacher would conduct lessons. In the center of the room, a few students were already chatting excitedly.

Michael scanned the room, his gaze landing on the long blue hair of Melody, seated in one of the middle rows. A few girls around her age attempted to strike up a conversation, but her expression remained impassive—like a queen listening to her subjects.

Her sapphire eyes shifted and met his at the entrance.

"Let's go," he motioned to Rudy, heading up the stairs and selecting a seat beside Melody.

As Michael sat, a few whispers rippled through the girls nearby, who quickly left, clearly uninterested in interacting with him. Michael didn't mind—though he was posing as Melody's fiancé, he was far more interested in class than in making friends.

"You didn't wake me," Melody said as he settled into his seat, her tone even.

"I didn't," he replied simply.

A brief silence followed.

"I told you you should have woken her up for breakfast," Rudy whispered, nudging him.

Michael ignored him, his attention on the blue-haired girl beside him. "Would you like me to wake you up in the future?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?" he asked, cupping his ear with exaggerated attention.

Melody flinched slightly, her annoyance clear. But Michael's smile only grew wider—establishing boundaries was part of their new dynamic, as they'd discussed the night before.

He was no longer her butler. They were no longer master and servant. If someone was asking for a favor, they should always use manners and be polite.

"Yes, please…" she murmured, her voice soft.

Michael nodded in satisfaction.

The class was still a bit early, but soon, more first-year students began filtering in as they found the classroom. The room buzzed with excited chatter from the teens eager to start their first class.

Michael's eyes drifted to the entrance, where a few familiar faces appeared. Braydon led the group, flanked by two of his lackeys—the curly-haired Randolph and another black-haired boy who was far less memorable.

Braydon scanned the room, his gaze meeting Michael's. He scoffed and looked away, turning his attention instead to Melody beside him. As he noticed her, his eyes lit up, and he began making his way toward them, climbing the stairs.

This guy just doesn't give up… Michael sighed inwardly.

"Heads up, Blueberry is on the move," Michael whispered.

"Ugh," Melody groaned in annoyance.

"Good morning, Miss Melody," Braydon said as he arrived beside her, positioning himself at the edge of the row—closest to the second set of stairs.

"It was," she replied off-handedly.

He didn't seem to notice the remark, or at least he pretended not to. Instead, he pressed on. "I've heard that Mana Theory is one of your strongest subjects. My father has often praised your accomplishments in the field—particularly your expertise in mana manipulation."

Flattery, huh? Let's see how far that gets you, Michael thought with some amusement.

"I also have an interest in Mana Theory," Braydon continued, not even acknowledging Michael or Rudy. "Perhaps we could compare notes at some point? I think it would be quite beneficial."

"No, thank you," Melody replied curtly, not even sparing him a glance.

Braydon didn't seem to mind the rejection at first.

He frowned slightly, his expression feigning hurt. "I thought, as a class representative, you might be more inclined to help your fellow students—but it seems I was mistaken."

His words made Michael raise an eyebrow.

What's his game? Is he trying to guilt Melody into studying with him?

Michael suppressed the urge to laugh. When it came to guilt and manipulation, no one was more impervious than the ice queen herself.

Before Melody could respond, the doors swung open with a flourish, and the sound of brisk footsteps echoed through the room. A figure strode in, his short-cropped black hair and gold-rimmed glasses framing his handsome face.

The professor—dressed in a flowing black robe and a plaid suit beneath—walked with purpose, making a beeline for his desk.

"Get to your seats, class is about to begin," he commanded, his voice carrying authority.

Braydon threw one last glance at Melody before signaling his lackeys to follow him to some empty seats at the back.

"My name," the professor began, flourishing his wrist toward the blackboard, "is Professor Theodore Ignacius Maximilian," he declared grandly.

The chalk lifted itself from its resting spot, driven by the professor's magic, and began furiously writing on the board. The needlessly complex name appeared in perfect script.

He paused to admire his work, only to freeze a moment later. "Is that how it's spelled?" he asked, loud enough for most of the class to hear.

Eh? He doesn't even know how to spell his own name?

"Anyway, only my mother calls me that—so you'll refer to me as Professor Max," he added with gusto. His grand gestures and dramatic behavior were at odds with his calm, handsome appearance, making it difficult to figure out what to make of him.

"Moving on…" he said, seeing the lack of reaction from the class.

"I teach one of the fundamental classes here at Arcadia—Mana Theory," he continued, beginning to pace casually in front of his desk.

Now that he'd gotten to the subject, he seemed more at ease.

"Can anyone tell me, what is mana?"

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