Kai stood in the corridor.

The crowd shifted without being told.
Students stepped aside in neat, automatic lines, like muscle memory passed down through generations.

Then—

Footsteps.
Measured. Even. Unhurried.

TAP. TAP. TAP.

They echoed from the far end of the corridor long before the man himself appeared.

And when he did, the space changed around him.

Lucien Corvinus walked at the center of the hallway, Prefect Council falling into position behind him without needing direction. Secretary. Treasurer. Vice. None walking beside him. None lagging far behind.

He led.
They followed.

His black hair fell neatly into place — not soft, not styled for charm. Controlled. Intentional.
Dark gloves covered his hands, fitted so precisely they looked less like clothing and more like part of him.
Tall. Broad through the shoulders. Built like someone raised under pressure instead of comfort.

His steps never broke rhythm.
The polite, gentleman’s smile on his face never slipped.

Students bowed slightly as he passed.

“Good morning, Prefect-General Corvinus!”

Lucien turned toward the voice, offering a flawless nod, his smile warm enough to be called kind.

“Good morning.”

Nothing more.
Nothing wasted.

Along the sides of the corridor, whispers bloomed like heat.

“He looked at me—”
“As expected of Lord Corvinus…”

Kai didn’t look away.
His gaze stayed locked on the man walking toward him.

Measuring.
Not the smile.
Not the posture.
The space around him.
How people moved for him.
Adjusted for him.
Reacted before he even spoke.

Lucien lifted a hand, smoothing the black glove at his wrist.
For a second, the corridor lights fell across his face, leaving his eyes in shadow.

    In this academy, he stands at the very top.

Lucien Corvinus.
Third son of a grand duke.

    Rank doesn’t matter here. Influence does.
    And he has all of it.

Lucien passed another group of students.

Behind him, movement rippled instantly.

Ties straightened.
Shoulders squared.
Spines corrected.

“Is it crooked? Fix it, fix it—”
“Don’t look sloppy.”
“Posture, posture—”

    Every student watches him first.
    Every reaction. Every gesture.
    People adjust themselves around it.

Lucien approached.

Closer.
Closer.

Then he passed Kai.

For a single moment, their eyes met.

Lucien’s smile didn’t change.
But his gaze held.
A fraction longer than politeness required.

Not curiosity.
Recognition.
Or maybe calculation.

Then he was already moving again.
Like nothing had happened.

    Everyone wants his attention.

    One friendly gesture from him,
    and suddenly the whole academy decides you’re worth talking to.

Kai watched his back as he walked away.

    But if he doesn’t like you…
    If he so much as looks away—
    This place will swallow you whole.

After Lucien passed, Kai continued walking in the opposite direction down the corridor.

His steps stayed even.
But the air shifted again — not the same way it had for Lucien.

This time, it felt sharper. Dirtier. Curious in a way that wanted something to break.

Heads turned one by one.

Not openly.
Not rudely.
Just enough.

Watching.
Waiting.

The whispers started behind him, low but not low enough.

“That’s Altairis, isn’t it?”
“I heard the duke paid a fortune just to get him in.”
“A second-year transfer… after what happened at his last academy?”
“They say he killed his professor.”
“No matter how much money you throw, a bastard’s still a bastard.”

Kai kept his gaze forward.
Didn’t slow.
Didn’t react.

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly — not anger, not even irritation.

Something closer to amusement.

Like he’d heard worse and survived it.
Like attention, even the ugly kind, was still just attention.

    And me?

He adjusted his grip slightly on the leather handle, the smooth surface cool against his palm.

    I start at the very bottom.

Students moved just enough to let him pass, careful not to brush shoulders.

Not welcoming.
Not confrontational.
Just… distancing.

    Not a pure-blood heir.
    Not someone they’d ever welcome at their side.

His reflection slid across the polished marble again — distorted between footsteps and light.

    To them, a bastard isn’t a person.

The smirk on his lips sharpened, just a little.

    Just a blemish on their perfectly polished world.

And polished things, Kai knew, always cracked the easiest.