We stepped into the main building—and walked into a storm of noise and movement.
The lobby buzzed with life, packed with candidates who'd passed the entrance exams. It was like walking into a hive, every direction filled with chatter, shouts, laughter, and the subtle tension of a hundred hopeful futures colliding in one place.
In the chaos, a flash of tomato-red hair caught my eye.
"[Hey, it's Lyssa,]" I nudged Izel, pointing her out. She stood calmly among the crowd, scanning the room with that cool, indifferent gaze of hers.
"[I see,]" Izel muttered, clearly not paying attention.
"[Oberon!!! It's been so long!]" boomed a voice like thunder, shaking the very air. Izel and I both snapped our heads in its direction, while Dad instinctively clutched his ears and let out a weary sigh.
"[Hello, King. Still as loud as ever,]" Dad replied, trying to recover. "[And no, it hasn't been that long. You pop into the palace often enough.]"
"[Harlequin! How's Pari?!]" Mom greeted with a bright smile.
"[She's well,]" Mr. King beamed as he approached us. "[Still locked away in her lab, buried in experiments, as usual.]"
He looked exactly like Lyssa—if Lyssa had any energy. Where she was stoic, he radiated sunshine. Tall as Dad, with a glowing smile and stunning golden fairy wings that shimmered like stained glass.
"[Hello, Sia.]" he said warmly, ruffling my hair. "[And Izel! Good to see you, boy!]"
He clapped Izel on the back hard enough to make him flinch. Izel's polite smile twitched, but to his credit, he kept it together.
"[I'm good. Thanks for asking,]" I replied as politely as I could manage, still adjusting to the volume.
Mom told me these two used to be underclassmen together... hard to imagine.
"[Hey, you traitor,]" I called as Lyssa finally wandered over.
"[I'm not a traitor,]" she said with her arms crossed, deadpan as ever.
Ugh. I hate to admit it, but casual clothing suits her too well.
"[Of course I do. Why state the obvious?]" she smirked, clearly reading my thoughts.
"[I didn't give you permission to read my mind!]" I snapped.
She responded with nothing but a dismissive "hmph."
"[Celeste, my dear, you look absolutely lovely... and scrumptious,]" said a smooth, flirtatious voice. It was Ifrit—grinning, eyes twinkling.
Mom blushed. "[Thank you.]"
"[She's my wife,]" Dad growled coldly.
"[Whoa, whoa. Peace,]" Ifrit said, hands raised in surrender. "[Anyway, Celeste, a teacher was looking for you. Said his name was Akatsuki. He's waiting in the staffroom.]"
"[Right! I completely forgot,]" Mom gasped, planting a quick kiss on Dad's lips before rushing off.
"[Bye, Mom!]" Izel and I called after her.
Then came another voice—silky, sarcastic, and unmistakably smug.
"[Well, well, well. Color me surprised. If it isn't Oberon. What a shocker to see you here.]"
We turned.
"[Why wouldn't I come, Lilith? So petty,]" Dad shot back, voice dipped in condescension.
Lilith Deyanira. Waist-length charcoal-grey hair with glints of green. Piercing emerald eyes. Horns curled like a crown. She stood tall—regal, proud, and intimidating at 176 centimeters.
"[Come on, what's with the tension? We're here to celebrate!]" Mr. King laughed, pulling them both into a group hug. Dad and Lilith both struggled like they were being tackled by a bear.
"[Sia,]" said another voice—much too enthusiastic. "[I'm glad to see you passed!]"
Oh no. The loud one has arrived.
"[Yeah, I can't believe it either,]" I deadpanned as Arik Deyanira, Lilith's younger brother, grinned beside her.
He looked like her too—same height, same sharp eyes—but his faux-cut hair gave him a rebellious vibe. Arik, Lyssa, and I had been friends since the day we were born. Literally.
Then, all of a sudden, silence swept through the room like a spell.
A soft, composed woman's voice rang out, clear and gentle:
"[I apologize for the delay.]"
Everyone turned. Even the air seemed to hold its breath.
"[I know that voice,]" Dad murmured with a rare smile, and the others nodded, recognizing it too.
From the grand staircase leading to the second floor, a woman appeared, descending gracefully.
She wore a long, shimmering coat embroidered with fine silver threads, every step elegant, deliberate. When she reached the bottom, she offered a graceful curtsey.
"[It's an honor to meet you all. My name is Agatha Lindsey, and I am the official seamstress of this prestigious school.]"