In this world, there are two kinds of people.

The first is human. Nothing fancy, just your regular vertebrate mammal in the Hominidae family.

…Actually, scratch that. I should’ve said the genus—Homo. Otherwise orangutans get lumped in, and I don’t think they’re paying taxes anywhere.

Anyway, humans are what everyone used to be. Different shapes, different quirks, same basic template: two arms, two legs, two eyes, two ears. Rinse and repeat. Sure, some people have disabilities—but what makes them any less human?

The second kind is what people call the “new humans.”

Still two arms, still two legs, still everything.

Except for one little detail.

They can bend physics, they can twist the world in ways that shouldn’t be possible. Back in the day, people called it magic. Now it’s just a Gift. And the people who have it are called Arcanes.

That’s the short version.

Truth is, nobody really understands Arcanes yet. Plenty of theories floating around, but I can’t be bothered digging through all of them.

And I, Theodore Morgan, am one of them.

“U-ugh… I’m sorry… I won’t follow them anymore… please, let me go…”

The fat punk whimpered at my feet. Earlier, he’d been barking about how he was going to kill me. Now he was crying like a lost puppy.

“Really?” I said. “Just a second ago, you were talking about ending me with your… what was it? ⟨Storm Saber⟩? Fancy name for something that’s basically a cheap taser.”

“N-no! Please, I—ugh!”

I got tired of listening to him beg, so I swung my foot into his face. He hit the wall, slid down, and stopped moving.

Quiet at last.

“Pathetic.”

These guys were all bark and no bite. Their “boss” crumpled from a single kick. The two in bandages bolted like rabbits. That left this lumbering mess.

Strong, yeah. But slow.

Easy to tag him until desperation kicked in and he flashed his Gift.

⟨Storm Saber⟩.

Honestly, it sounded like something he came up with when he was twelve. All it did was shock whoever he touched, like a glorified stun gun. Not useless in close combat—but with how clumsy he was, he managed to trip over his own move.

Still… credit where it’s due.

He got me once.

“Ow…”

I glanced at my left arm. Burned sleeve. Skin underneath red and raw. He’d caught me in a grapple and zapped me good.

It stung.

“Great. Rina’s gonna kill me.”

And if that wasn’t bad enough—

Bzzzt. Bzzzt.

My phone vibrated nonstop in my pocket. I didn’t even need to check the screen.

Ten missed calls.

Yeah, dead man walking.

I shoved the phone back into my pocket with a long sigh. No point heading to school now. I’d already blown past “late” and parked myself firmly in “screw it.”

Maybe I’d just wander around the city for a bit.

What a mood killer. Seriously, who picks a fight at seven in the morning? Thugs are supposed to crawl out after dusk, not before breakfast.

…Okay. That was me generalizing. My bad.

I stared at the heap of punks decorating the frozen pavement. Their breath fogged in faint wisps, noses pressed against a sheet of ice.

That couldn’t be good, right?

How long until frostbite sets in?

“Damn it.”

Fine.

I trudged over and crouched beside the big one. Up close, his face looked like it had lost a boxing match with a shovel. Swollen nose. Scraped cheek. His right arm was still bloody.

He threw the first punch. That part was on him.

“Come on. Get up already.”

I hooked my arms under his shoulders and pulled. The guy was a slab of meat! So heavy, that when I try to pull him, my sneakers slid against the icy sidewalk.

Eighty kilos? Maybe more.

To be fair, he was tall, so the weight made sense. Unlike me who's only one hundred sixty-one centimeters and forty-eight kilos. Even in class, I got compared to girls.

“Fuh… such a pain.”

With one last grunt, I managed to drag him a meter and prop him against the wall of a shuttered bar. At least he wouldn’t wake up frozen stiff. By five p.m., when the neon lights flicked on, he’d probably be cursing his headache instead of me.

Now the fat one.

I glanced at him. Yeah… thinking back, maybe I overdid it. Pleading or not, I still kicked him. Now he was sprawled against the wall like a beached whale, cheeks pale in the winter air. Easily pushing a hundred kilos.

“…You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Still, guilt crawled up just enough to make me try. I squared my stance, bent my knees, slid my arms under his bulk, and heaved.

“Uuuurgh!!”

Nothing. Not even an inch. My arms shook, my back screamed, and the guy didn’t budge.

“Dammit… do a little cardio once in a while, would you?!”

Hypocritical, sure. Me judging someone’s fitness when my morning routine was sleeping soundly.

I grabbed his jacket for a second attempt, bracing for another useless effort—

“You look rather… troubled with something?”

The voice was smooth, almost amused.

I froze. Let go of the jacket. Spun on my heel.

Ten steps away, a tall figure stood half in the shadow of a lamppost. Red hair. Pale skin. A thin white hoodie hung loose over his frame, paired with black trousers. His smile stretched wide. Too wide. Like he’d been waiting there for a while.

Every nerve in my body tightened.

“…Who?”

The guy raised both hands, palms out, like I’d just pulled a knife on him.

“Ah, sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you. I watched the whole thing. I was this close to calling the police, but you beat them faster than I could even touch the dial. Guess I was useless back there.”

So he’d been watching the entire time. Figures. It’s not like I fought those punks quietly.

“Don’t sweat it, it’s already over.”

He tilted his head toward the empty alley where the two cowards had bolted. “But those other two ran off. You sure they won’t come back for round two?”

“Can’t say. If they do, I’ll deal with it later.”

My eyes drifted back to the fat guy sprawled half-frozen on the ground, his cheek mashed against the ice. Yeah… leaving him like that would probably land me in the world’s dumbest frostbite case.

I sighed. “…Hey. Think you can give me a hand here? I can’t move this guy alone.”

The redhead’s grin widened. Too wide again. I couldn’t tell if it was friendly or just… off. Still, he nodded.

“Sure. Let’s get him up.”

We crouched down—me on the left, him on the right—and squared our stances.

“Alright. One, two—lift!”

Together, we heaved the lump of meat upright and leaned him against the brick wall beside his buddy. Up close, the bruises painting his face purple-black were hard to ignore.

…Okay. Maybe I went a little overboard.

I dusted off my knees and rested my hands on my hips. “Fuh. Thanks.”

“No problem.” He brushed ice crystals off his hoodie, then turned toward me.

Standing side by side, I realized I had to crane my neck just to meet his gaze. Lean build, but easily pushing one-eighty.

Why is everyone taller than me?

It’d be rude to just walk away now. I held out a hand, managing a half-smile.

“Theodore Morgan.”

His grip was firm, his smile immediate, like he’d been waiting for the introduction.

“Louis Eliana Doyle. Call me Louis. Or Doyle. Friends throw all sorts of names at me. Even Lulu.”

Lulu? Cute. Didn’t really fit the whole tall-stranger-in-a-hoodie vibe, but with how cheerful he was, I guess it worked. Not that I planned on using it.

“Then call me Theo. Just Theo.”

“Theo it is!” He shook my hand again, enthusiasm dialed a little too high, before letting go. “I should say, I’m impressed. You’ve got technique. Going for balance points, striking clean without overcommitting. Not common for someone your age. You train?”

…So he caught that.

“Sort of,” I muttered. “But I don’t go looking for trouble. Just… coincidence.”

“Ah, yes. Coincidence. Like getting ambushed by a gang of idiots in the morning.” His grin sharpened, just a fraction.

“Exactly. And now I’ve skipped class again. Lucky me.”

“Oh? What school?”

“Polaris Junior High.”

His eyes went wide, eyebrows nearly leaping off his face. “Wait, you’re a middle schooler?!”

Yeah. That reaction again.

“Apparently,” I said flatly. “What about you? College? Because you don’t look like a regular high-schooler who hangs around alleys on weekdays.”

He chuckled. “Highschooler, yes. But I’m not regular.”

Then, with deliberate slowness, he tugged down the zipper of his hoodie.

Beneath it, a crisp white uniform caught the dim light, nearly blending with the snow. Embroidered on the chest was a tri-colored emblem—red, blue, and yellow rings intersecting around a star.

My stomach dropped.

Just when I thought this day couldn’t get any worse.

“I’m from Roxley, here on assignment,” Louis said lightly, like it was the most casual thing in the world.