"Ding-dong.

  The doorbell echoed through the quiet house.

  Roso groaned awake, still sprawled across his bed. For a moment he didn’t move—then the realization hit him.

  “They’re here.”

  He shot up immediately, running a hand through his messy hair.

  I should at least look like a decent host, he thought as he hurried to the kitchen.

  He grabbed the dishes he'd prepared earlier—snacks, drinks, and a few of his better cooking attempts—and carried them to the dining room, arranging everything with the nervous precision of someone who rarely had guests.

  Meanwhile, outside the front door, three figures stood in the cold evening breeze.

  Buhl tapped the door impatiently. “No response. Are we sure he’s even inside?”

  Nougat rolled her eyes. “Of course he is. Where else would he be the night before tomorrow?”

  Alphonse smirked. “Yeah, think, Buhl. Tomorrow is the day. He’d never risk going out now.”

  Buhl scratched his head in embarrassment. “Right… I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  Before any of them could knock again, the door slowly creaked open.

  Creak… creak…

  Roso stood there, breathless but smiling. “Hi guys! How are you? Nougat, Alphonse, Buhl—welcome. Come in, come in.”

  He ushered them inside, guiding them toward the dining room.

  A wave of warm light greeted them—plates of food, sparkling drinks, and the TV already set up.

  “Surprise,” Roso said, voice a little shaky. “I prepared a feast for you all.”

  For a second, no one spoke. Then Buhl let out a whistle.

  “Roso… what the hell. This looks amazing. I didn’t know you had this in you.”

  Nougat laughed, nudging Alphonse. “See? He actually knows how to welcome people. Not like someone here.”

  Alphonse sighed dramatically. “The hostility in this house is unreal.”

  Roso laughed. The tension broke like glass.

  “There’s a lot we need to talk about,” he said, “but first—eat, drink, and relax. Let’s watch something before we get into heavy topics.”

  He pulled out a chair for Nougat. “Here, sit.”

  “Oh? What a gentleman,” she teased.

  “It’s the least I can do.”

  “Too polite,” she muttered, flustered.

  Buhl pointed an accusing finger. “Roso, why are you only asking her what to watch? The rest of us exist too, you know.”

  Alphonse snickered. “And that, Buhl, is why you’ll have no girlfriend and die alone. Haven’t you heard the saying? Ladies first?”

  Buhl shrank in defeat. “It was just a joke…”

  …even though it wasn’t, he added silently.

  The room filled with sounds of eating.

  Chomp. Slurp. Gulp.

  Then, out of nowhere, Nougat spoke.

  “Hey… I don’t know if you all feel it, but Roso’s energy is different from ours.”

  Buhl nodded. “Yeah."

  Roso paused. His chopsticks froze halfway to his mouth.

  “What do you think?” he said gently. “I don’t practice martial arts. The aura you’re sensing is magical energy. That’s why it feels different.”

  Alphonse leaned forward. “Then why don’t you practice martial arts? Everyone born with energy does—unless…”

  Roso forced a smile, a fragile one.

  “It’s not like I didn’t try. I did. But I couldn’t even grasp the fundamentals.”

  Silence settled around the table.

  Buhl swallowed hard. “Then… you mean—”

  “Yes.” Roso lowered his gaze. “I don’t practice martial arts, and it isn't because I don't want or I ain't interested in it, but because I don't have the essence for it."

 Roso leaned back in his chair, as he tried to push away the earlier tension.

 “Anyway, putting that aside… how’s training going for you all?”

 “Steady and sure,” Nougat replied casually, twirling her fork as if training was the least interesting topic on Earth.

 Buhl squinted at Roso, sensing there was a reason behind the question.

 “Why do you ask? You’re preparing to tell us something.”

 Roso took a deep breath. “Alright, listen. At Azurh Academy, they have a ranking system. Your ranking determines the class you’re placed in—and that ranking decides nearly everything about your future.”

 Everyone grew quiet.

 He continued, his tone serious.

 “The classes run from F to SSS. F is the lowest… SSS is the highest. You do not want to end up at the bottom. Lower classes only get low-quality resources, while higher classes get the best education, equipment, and training grounds.”

 Alphonse nodded immediately. “Yeah, everything he said is true. My brother told me the same thing. Azurh Academy evaluates its students based on potential, talent, and results. Perform poorly, and you’ll never reach a good class—your rank becomes your life.”

 They listened silently as he went on.

 “There’s also a… mandatory class. For those whose potential is considered questionable. They’re forced to re-evaluate. My brother said the lowest class doesn’t get much more than academy protection. Other than that, they fend for themselves—and they even have to meet daily work quotas just to remain enrolled.”

 Buhl swallowed hard. “So being ranked low… is basically the same as not attending the academy.”

 “Exactly,” Alphonse confirmed. “Meanwhile, high-ranking students—especially S and SSS—get everything handed to them. Their entire focus is growth. Resources, facilities, tutors… all provided.”

 Nougat stared at him in disbelief. “Oh my—Alphonse, you never told us you had a brother studying at Azurh!”

 She chuckled, then paused when she noticed he didn’t laugh back. Alphonse stayed quiet, eyes lowered.

 Roso stepped in. “Still… you know a lot. That really helps.”

 Alphonse shook his head. “Not more than you, who already attends there. And my information only covers Class A. My brother won’t share anything above his rank—especially since he works as a covert agent for the academy.”

 “What the—an agent?” Buhl gasped. “You have an incredible brother. But why tell only Roso?”

 “He has his reasons,” Roso replied calmly.

 Buhl frowned, trying to digest everything. 

 “Is this why you guys train like maniacs? Just for an A-rank…? I still don’t get what’s so good that people nearly kill themselves before the entrance exam even begins.” Exclaimed Nougat.

 Roso sighed. “Nougat, you need to take your training seriously.”

 “Me?” Nougat scoffed. “No thanks. My daily warm-up is enough. If grinding yourself into exhaustion makes you happy, good for you. Just thinking about my appearance stresses me already. Let’s just hope the exam comes soon.”

 Roso ignored her attitude and continued explaining. “To get into the highest class, you need the highest score. It’s that simple.”

 Buhl stared wide-eyed. “I didn’t know there were even requirements like that. Thanks, Roso.”

 “You’re welcome. And if you impress the jury, you might even be awarded an S-rank.”

 Alphonse clenched his fists. “So we just have to outperform everyone.”

 Nougat rolled her eyes. “You boys… always trying to impress someone.”

 She lowered her voice to a mutter. “Anyway, instead of training till I faint, I’ll focus on looking stunning for the exam. I even bought a new beauty product. I must shine.”

 Buhl stared at her like she was a newly discovered species. “Unbelievable. Girls really are mysteries. Maybe I should just open a beauty salon if I want to succeed in life.”

 Alphonse suddenly snapped his fingers. “Oh! I almost forgot. My brother gave me some training textbooks from the academy. And I brought them.”

 He grabbed his bag and pulled out several thick books. “There were even some I found on the way. Take whichever suits you.”

 They each took one.

 “Thank you,” they all said at once.

 Buhl flipped quickly through his pages. “If we can learn even one or two techniques before the exam, we won’t necessarily need to be the best. We could secure at least Rank A or B.”

 “Don’t get too excited,” Roso warned. “We don’t know what kind of opponents we’ll face. And each class has a limited quota.”

 Nougat sighed. “…He’s right.”

 Buhl clicked his tongue. “Not you too. Fine—competition will be intense—but I’m not backing down.”

 “And I’ll support you,” Roso said. “We just need to work harder.”

 Nougat stared at them, cheeks puffed in frustration. “You guys, honestly…”

 They all looked at her.

 “…Nothing. Forget it.”

 There was a pause before Alphonse suddenly brightened. “Hey, does anyone remember our childhood? Do you remember a guy called Hand of Bliss?”

 The name lit up something in their eyes.

 “Oh yeah!” Buhl laughed. “There was that anime hero who purified evil with his right arm! After watching it, we went around the neighborhood pretending to exorcise bad guys. And then we met that man—and we played with him!”

 As Buhl spoke, Roso’s mind drifted somewhere far deeper. A memory. One that didn’t resurface often.

 Flashback.

 The salon in his parents’ house.

 A much younger Roso sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes glued to the TV.

 Zap—zap—

 Pow—pow—

 Croak—