As the carriage rolled through the misty mountain path toward the academy, Aslan sat quietly, the landscape blurring past the window.
He reached up, fingertips brushing the cool metal beneath his collar.
"That moment... when I put on the locket—" he thought.
He remembered it vividly.
Just after fastening it around his neck, a strange chill had crept down his spine. For a few seconds, the world had distorted—a soft, pale-blue smoke had shimmered before his eyes.
Was that just my imagination?
A thoughtful crease formed on his brow as he stared out the window, crimson gaze distant.
"If something really happened… someone else would've noticed."
"It must've been nothing. Just… a trick of the light."
He leaned back, arms crossed, but the doubt lingered—quiet and unshakable.
And outside, the first spires of Royal Academy rose against the sky.
---
Inside the academy grounds, behind the old library wall, a broken voice shattered the stillness.
"I-I'm sorry..."
"Please... stop—!"
Thud.
The sound of someone hitting the floor.
A few second-year girls walking nearby paused.
"Is it Sam and his gang again?" one asked with annoyance.
Another whispered with wide eyes, "No… it sounds like they're the ones getting beaten."
"What?!" a third said, rushing to the edge of the hallway.
They weren't wrong.
Several boys lay injured on the ground, some collapsed over one another—forming a tangled heap of bruised bodies.
And sitting on top of them was a single figure, calm and composed.
He had the gang's leader, Sam, gripped tightly by the collar.
Sam's face was pale with fear.
Seniors passed in stunned silence. Someone muttered,
"At last… someone gave them what they deserved."
The one holding Sam released him, straightened up, and casually brushed the dust off his black coat.
"I don't care if you waste your time bullying someone," he said coldly.
"But I hate people who pick on the weak to feel strong."
He turned to walk away.
"Today just wasn't your lucky day."
Sam looked up, stunned—then froze as the figure stepped fully into the light.
Crimson hair. Golden-trim uniform. Calm, deadly eyes.
It was Aslan.
He stopped, glanced over his shoulder with a smirk.
"Nice to meet you."
Then added, almost playfully:
"From today on… I'm your boss."
Sam blinked. "P-Pardon…? Boss?!"
Aslan tilted his head. "Any problem with that?"
The boys sitting up beside Sam scrambled to their knees.
"No problem, boss!" they chorused.
Aslan gave a slight nod. "Good."
Then he walked off, hands in pockets, leaving whispers and stunned faces behind.
Another student whispered, eyes wide,
"But who is he? I've never seen him before…"
A third leaned in, voice hushed with awe,
"Whoever he is… Sam looked terrified."
From a nearby window, a professor watched the scene unfold and sipped his tea.
"New king, new rules," he muttered with an amused smile.
And as the whispers rippled through the corridor,
a name began to float from one mouth to another—
---