The air around the Academy of Five Stars was electric, buzzing with the energy of a new semester. The towering spires cast long shadows over the sprawling grounds, their crystalline tips gleaming in the sunlight. Everywhere I looked, there was movement: students chattering excitedly, teachers offering last-minute guidance, and the faint hum of magic that seemed to saturate the very air. It was a world brimming with possibility—and judgment.

I stood at the base of the main staircase, clutching the straps of my bag so tightly my knuckles turned white. My stomach churned with a mix of excitement and dread. The weight of countless eyes bore down on me, some curious, others disdainful. Their whispers followed me like shadows.

"Imperial lapdog," someone muttered just loud enough for me to hear.

The words stung, sharper than I cared to admit, but I kept my head down, climbing the stairs one faltering step at a time. I told myself it didn’t matter, that I shouldn’t care what they thought. But the truth was, every glance, every sneer, felt like a stone added to the weight pressing on my chest.

The great hall was breathtaking, its ceiling enchanted to reflect the shifting colors of the sky. Rows of students filled the space, their hushed conversations creating a low hum that buzzed in my ears. At the front of the hall, Headmistress Lyra stood tall, her silver hair catching the light as she addressed us.

"Welcome, aspirants," she began, her voice calm but commanding. "You stand at the threshold of greatness. The path ahead will not be easy, but it will shape you into something extraordinary."

Her words should have inspired me, but all I could think about was the girl with violet hair seated near the back. She caught my gaze briefly before turning toward her neighbor. "Calia," she said, her voice quiet but steady, "don’t let your nerves show."

The girl turned back, her eyes locking with mine. "I’m Calia. And you?" she asked, her tone even but her expression sharp.

"Shin," I replied simply, unsure if this was a challenge or genuine curiosity.

Calia nodded, her gaze lingering for a moment before shifting away. The tension eased slightly, though I wasn’t sure what to make of her.

A tall boy with jet-black hair strode past, a confident smirk plastered across his face. "Kuzan," he said with a flourish, catching my eye. "You might want to remember that name—it’s the one everyone’s going to be cheering for."

The days that followed were worse than I had imagined. Every misstep I made in class—a spell that fizzled out, a ward that cracked too soon—was met with snickers and whispers.

"Looks like the emperor’s son isn’t so special after all," someone sneered during a practical session.

I clenched my fists, willing myself not to react. If I snapped, it would only prove them right. Instead, I threw myself into my studies, staying up late into the night to perfect my spells. But no matter how hard I worked, their words lingered, gnawing at me.

Why me? I was the emperor’s son. I should have been above this, untouchable. But here I was, a target for every petty insult and snide comment. I couldn’t bring myself to tell anyone, not Speed, not Lady, not even my parents. They wouldn’t understand. After all, what did I have to complain about?

"Why am I here?" I whispered one night, staring out at the glowing wards that surrounded the campus. The glass fogged with my breath as I leaned closer, my reflection distorted in the faint light. "Am I really strong enough for this?"