Morning came. 

Class S gathered near the entrance of their designated wing. It was a relatively small group, but each presence carried a certain weight.

They were led forward by a woman walking with an air of calm authority.

Wade naturally drifted toward Greyson’s side, clasping his hands behind his head as he looked around. 

“So this is where they keep the elites,” he said lightly. “Think the classroom’ll be as fancy as the rumors?”

Greyson smiled faintly. “Probably.”

Frost stood a short distance away from the rest, composed in the way he walked. His eyes stared forward, distant and self-contained.

Greyson’s gaze flickered toward him from time to time, a faint pull tugging at him.

Soon, the group came before a classroom at the end of the corridor. The room was spacious and bright, clearly designed with intention rather than excess. Cutting-edge instruments were embedded seamlessly into the walls and floor.

There were round tables evenly spaced across the room. Each one was paired with a curved bench seat, complete with a backrest and generous storage beneath.

The woman stepped inside first, turning to face the students.

“I’m Instructor Iris,” she said, her voice warm but steady. “I’ll be your homeroom teacher.”

She gave them a brief look, eyes taking in each face. “Your seating arrangements will be paired, and you’ll remain in those pairs at least for the semester.”

Wade leaned closer to Greyson, lowering his voice. “Man, I hope I get you. That way I won’t feel outclassed every day.”

Greyson huffed softly. “You’ll get along with whoever you’re paired with anyway.”

Wade rubbed the bridge of his nose, grinning. “Well, I guess I am kinda a social light bulb after all.”

Instructor Iris lifted her tablet. “First pair.”

The room felt still.

“Greyson.”

Greyson straightened instinctively.

“And Frost.”

For half a second, Greyson’s eyes widened.

The temperature dipped almost simultaneously, cold enough for a few students to glance back at Frost.

Instructor Iris paused, then cleared her throat. 

“Both of you demonstrated the highest potential during orientation,” she said smoothly. “Pairing you together is only natural.”

Wade let out a low groan. 

“Unfair,” he muttered. 

He whispered to Greyson, “You’re so lucky you got the pretty one.” 

A pause.

“But um…” His voice dropped further. “He’s kinda scary.”

Greyson chuckled quietly. 

“Maybe,” he said, not denying it.

But in his chest, something seemed to have settled, a strange and unexplainable comfort washing over him.

Frost, meanwhile, gave no outward reaction. Yet, beneath that still surface, something stirred.

He hadn’t expected this.

He knew he would stay close to him, but… not this close.

Then, Greyson moved. He swallowed lightly, glancing over at Frost one more time before walking into the classroom. 

Hesitantly, Frost followed, his footsteps so light they were barely heard even in the silence.

When the two finally sat down, they occupied the bench like strangers forced into proximity.

Greyson took the right side. Frost took the left.

The other pairs gradually filled the tables around them as Instructor Iris called out more names. The students leaned close to each other without thinking, elbows brushing. Quiet laughter surfaced in little bursts. Names were exchanged, introductions made as naturally as breathing.

The silence at their table was stark in contrast, and that should’ve been awkward.

But strangely, Greyson didn’t feel restless or pressured. Something about Frost’s presence seemed to have smoothed the edges of his mind. 

Frost, on the other hand, didn’t try to look at Greyson even once. 

But he didn’t need to anyway.

He could sense the boy’s glances the way cold could sense heat from a nearby flame. Each stolen look brushed against him, soft and persistent, almost… intimate. 

It almost felt like Greyson was touching him directly, physically.

Instructor Iris left soon after, signalling the start of a lesson.

The front of the classroom lit up as the interactive board came alive, and a male instructor stepped in with his hands behind his back.

A short introduction followed before he began.

“Today,” he said, “we’re covering monster biology. Specifically, defensive adaptations.”

With a flick of his wrist, the board shifted. A three-dimensional model rotated slowly, showing a rhino-like monster.

Its body was bulked with muscles and thick plated hide, horn serrated like a weapon. Its eyes were small, buried deep in the skull. 

“This… is Ruinclad,” the instructor continued. “It is classified as a heavy charger. It has high endurance, extreme impact resistance, and, most importantly, poor emotional discrimination.”

The board then displayed clips of the monster plowing through trees, tearing through metal fencing, crushing prey and predator alike.

“It will not stop once it locks onto movement, and it doesn’t distinguish friend from foe.”

The instructor paused, reaching down to his tablet. “Now, let’s see…”

Then, his gaze lifted, scanning the class.

“Ah! Frost.”

The name landed strangely in the room.

“Fifteen years old,” he said aloud. “The youngest among us.”

A ripple moved through the classroom, whispers following.

“Fifteen…?”

“I mean… he does look young…”

“Yeah, but did you see what he did yesterday?”

Greyson’s eyes drifted to Frost before he could stop them.

Fifteen. Two years younger than me.

The instructor gestured to the board. 

“Would you like to point out the weak points of this particular monster? Just the ones you know would be fine.”

Frost didn’t answer.

For a moment, it almost seemed like he hadn’t heard the instructor. But the air had already changed subtly, a faint chill rolling outward.

The Instructor cleared his throat before his body could register the drop in temperature.

“If you’re not comfortable speaking—”

Frost moved slowly, his finger rising and pointing toward the board.

The instructor blinked and followed the direction, eyes narrowing slightly in focus, then they widened.

There, hovering over the monster’s illustration like markers, eight ice crystals had formed, each one about the size of a fingernail.

One at the base of the horn.

One at the joints where plated armor overlapped.

One along the underbelly where the hide was thinner.

One near the eye socket.

One at the inner thigh.

One at the rear tendon.

Six points, identified and marked.

The room erupted into hushed disbelief.

“When did he—?”

“I didn’t even see him do anything.”

The instructor adjusted his glasses, leaning closer to the board to confirm the answer. 

“Excellent,” he said. “Very good.”

But his gaze stayed narrow, staring at the two extra ice crystals. Then, he turned back to Frost.

“And these are?” he asked, pointing to the crystals. “The ones here and here. What are they for?”

Frost’s lips parted slightly, voice quiet and even.

“Sensitivity to cold.”

The instructor’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. 

He knew. 

This type of monster was immune to most thermal assaults as its biology was built to endure extremes. But there had been fragments of field reports that half-confirmed such rare vulnerability in areas far too negligible to be exploited as weaknesses. 

But even then, this was no common knowledge. The texts hadn’t even been made public yet. 

The instructor stared at Frost a few seconds longer.

This child… is phenomenal.

Around them, the class continued whispering, awe filling the air.

Yet, Greyson heard none of it. 

He only watched Frost’s profile, chest warmed strangely with pride, even though he didn’t understand why this pride belonged to him at all.

It was as if, somehow…

The younger boy had always meant to be beside him.

And that passing thought painted a smile so faint across Greyson’s face that he didn’t even realize the edges of his mouth had curved.