{Elira}
~**^**~
Daily routine:
8:00–11:00 AM – First Lecture
11:00–12:00 PM – Break/Lunch
12:00–3:00 PM – Second Lecture
3:00–5:00 PM – Siesta
5:00–6:00 PM – Dinner
6:00–9:00 PM – Study
9:00–10:00 PM – Free ti
I ran my finger lightly across the neat rows. It felt... real, suddenly. I was really a student here.
Professor Calven spoke again, tone softer. "Sundays are free — a chance to leave the Academy grounds, visit family, or just rest. But curfew remains."
He also explained that the elective courses weren’t taught in our main classroom. Instead, all students who picked the sa elective would gather in a lecture hall at the scheduled ti.
So unlike the core courses, where the professors ca to us, we’d have to go to them.
"I understand," I murmured, the paper schedule in my hand feeling more real than ever.
"Rember to stop by after classes today to collect your textbooks and workbooks." His gaze t mine gently, giving a reassuring smile. "And Miss Shaw? If you have questions, my door is open."
Sothing in my chest eased. "Thank you, Sir."
Before I could rise from my chair to leave, Professor Calven glanced at the clock on the wall. "Perfect timing, actually — you have my class next. Co, I will introduce you properly to your fellow classmates."
The words settled heavily in my chest. My palms felt clammy.
eting my classmates for the first ti... was it too hopeful to wish they would accept ?
Still, I gathered my courage — and my things — and followed him out of the office.
---
The classroom door was already open when we arrived. Dozens of heads turned at once.
Professor Calven stepped just inside. "Everyone, before we begin, we have a new student joining us."
He turned slightly, looking back at . The gesture was small, but it felt like a weight.
"Co in, Miss Shaw."
I stepped forward, clutching my notebook and phone tightly. The air seed to still around .
From the front, behind the broad green chalkboard, I looked out at rows of faces. So curious. So bored. A few... openly hostile.
"Introduce yourself," Professor Calven prompted gently.
"My na is Elira Shaw," I said, my voice softer than I’d ant it to be.
Professor Calven nodded, as if satisfied after he realized that I didn’t have anything more to add.
Then his gaze shifted toward a blond boy in the second row. "Jude, see that Miss Shaw gets settled."
Jude, the class captain. He inclined his head, though his expression stayed carefully blank.
"And Miss Shaw," Professor Calven added, "there’s an empty desk at the back."
I moved quickly, every step feeling twice as loud with several pairs of even on. They followed to my desk.
And I tried to pretend I didn’t know I was being watched as I set my notebook and pen on the wooden desk, placing my phone beside them.
Then, finally, Professor Calven called everyone’s attention. The dozens of heads turned from back to him, and I felt the tightness in my chest ease, just a little.
Class began. Professor Calven used the first hour to carefully summarize the topics I had missed.
He spoke with clarity, pausing often, checking if I followed along.
It worked: the panic that usually settled in my stomach when I thought about being behind... faded.
But I figured my new classmates didn’t like that they had to repeat the previous lessons just because of , with the way they kept stealing glances at .
Then, Professor Calven moved into the day’s topic.
I took notes, scribbling as quickly as I could. Professor Calven’s teaching style was calm but steady, each explanation layering over the last until it made sense.
I didn’t feel like I was drowning in a classroom, like the way my imagination had pictured my first class.
---
When the bell rang, Professor Calven reminded gently as he closed his notebook and picked it up from the lectern, "Don’t forget to stop by my office later for your textbooks."
"Yes, Professor," I murmured.
Then he excused himself and left.
I exhaled, letting the mont settle before gathering my things to follow. But before I could stand, shadows lood over my desk.
Four students surrounded . The air turned sharp and heavy.
One boy, taller than the others, sneered down at . "What’s an Oga doing in our school?"
Another laughed softly. "I guess ESA will admit anyone these days."
Heat crawled up my neck. My pulse thudded wildly.
I rembered what Cambria had said: ’best not to trust anyone on that stage.’ But these weren’t student council mbers — just classmates.
Still, the disdain in their eyes felt like sothing solid pressing down on my chest.
A girl with glossy dark hair jabbed a finger at . "How did you even get in?"
Their gazes pinned like needles. My throat tightened.
Imdiately, I tried to look around the room, wondering where the class captain was as he supposed to help settle in, but his desk was empty.
I opened my mouth, words catching on my tongue — when suddenly, a bright voice cut through the tension.
"Elira!"
The students parted, as if pushed aside by invisible hands.
And there she was. Cambria. Smiling, arm half-raised in a wave.
Relief crashed over . I stood quickly, hugging my notebook to my chest, and stepped around the hostile stares.
Cambria hooked her arm through mine, guiding out of the classroom and into the bright, noisy hallway.
Students stread past us in every direction, voices and footsteps echoing off the walls.
Cambria leaned closer, voice light as she released my arm. "Were they bothering you?"
"They... don’t seem to like Ogas," I admitted, my words shaking just a little.
Cambria shrugged, her ponytail shifting over her shoulder. "That’s their problem, then. Don’t waste your breath on them."
Her words settled sowhere deep inside . I hesitated, then asked, "Don’t... don’t you hate Ogas too?"
Although I couldn’t sense any hostility from her, I wanted to hear her thoughts directly.
"You would have noticed if I did." Then she turned her head, eyes eting mine, and smiled. "One’s actions tell you who soone really is, Elira. Not their title."
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