"Do I just walk in?"
Julian hesitated in the doorway, his grip tightening on the black card Thornfield had given him.
to students at least a year ahead, their expressions ranging from curious to dismissive.
His eyes locked briefly with Francine's, whose piercing gaze seed to cut through his carefully constructed facade. She tilted her head slightly, her blonde hair catching the light as she studied him with barely concealed interest.
Franz, seated in the front row with perfect posture, rely glanced over his shoulder.
The smile that curved his lips didn't reach his unnaturally bright yellow eyes, which reminded Julian of a predator assessing whether a newcor was worth the effort to hunt.
"Co in or leave, but don't block the doorway," a voice grumbled behind him.
Julian was unceremoniously pushed forward by impatient students trying to enter. He stumbled slightly before regaining his composure, acutely aware of the attention he'd drawn. With no other option, he made his way to an empty seat in the middle row, far enough from Franz and Francine to avoid direct interaction but close enough to observe them.
As he settled in, the ambient chatter died instantly when the doors at the front of the hall burst open with theatrical flair.
Professor Maximilian Corvus strode in, his midnight-blue robes billowing dramatically despite the absence of any breeze.
His silver-streaked black hair was tied back in a severe ponytail, and a monocle glead over his right eye.
"Welco, brilliant minds and diocre hopefuls alike, to Advanced Magical Theory,"
"I am Professor Maximilian Corvus, Master Theorist of the Seventh Order and three-ti recipient of the Zagata dal for Magical Innovation."
Julian suppressed a smile realizing that Corvus was exactly as the novel had described him.
He was brilliant but insufferably arrogant. In the original story, his theoretical fraworks were systematically dismantled by Franz in a public debate that beca legendary within academy circles.
"This course," Corvus continued, pacing the platform with asured steps.
"Will challenge everything you think you know about magic. We will deconstruct the fundantal principles that govern spell-casting, explore the intersections between different magical disciplines, and perhaps—for those exceptional few among you—pioneer entirely new theoretical fraworks."
Professor Corvus began arranging his materials on the lectern.
The man's every movent exuded the confidence of soone who believed themselves to be the foremost authority in their field.
WOM!
Crystal diagrams and ancient tos floated around him, suspended by his passive magic—a needlessly showy display that nonetheless impressed many of the students.
"Before we delve into the complexities of theoretical fraworks. Let us first establish who among you is worthy of my instruction."
He produced a crystalline tablet that glowed with a soft blue light.
"When I call your na, please identify yourself. I prefer to know the faces attached to the minds I'll be molding this sester."
He began reading from the tablet with theatrical precision. "Evera, Franz."
Franz raised his hand with elegant efficiency. "Present, Professor."
"Ah, young Master Evera," Corvus's eyes glead with unmistakable favoritism. "I've heard remarkable things about your theoretical postulations on elental transmutation. I look forward to seeing if you live up to your reputation."
Franz inclined his head slightly, his expression betraying neither pride nor modesty—rely the quiet confidence of soone who knew their own worth.
"Aureus, Francine."
Francine's hand rose gracefully. "Present."
"Miss Aureus," Corvus acknowledged with considerably less enthusiasm. "Your essay on taphysical resonance patterns was... adequate. Though perhaps this sester you'll finally surpass re competence."
Julian noticed the almost imperceptible tightening of Francine's jaw—the only sign that the professor's dismissal affected her at all.
The roll call continued, with Corvus offering either effusive praise or barely veiled disdain for each student. When he finally reached the end of his list, his gaze swept across the room and settled on Julian with sudden intensity.
"It seems we have an uninvited guest,"
"You, in the middle row. I don't recall adding you to my roster. State your na imdiately."
All heads turned toward Julian, who maintained a calm expression despite all the eyes that were on him.
"Haah… I rember why everyone hates him."
He rose from his seat and t the professor's challenging stare.
"Julian Uzziel,"
He stated simply, holding up the black card Thornfield had given him. The light caught its surface, revealing a subtle insignia that made several students gasp.
Professor Corvus's eyes narrowed as he studied the card from a distance. His lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval, the monocle over his right eye gleaming ominously in the lecture hall's light.
"Ah, yes. The fabled 'special admission student'," he drawled, his voice dripping with disdain. "I was inford we had acquired such a... curiosity this year."
Whispers erupted throughout the lecture hall, a cascade of hushed voices that created a backdrop of intrigue.
"That's him?"
"The one who got in without taking the exam?"
"I heard he has connections to the royal family..."
Julian remained standing, his posture relaxed despite being the center of attention. He'd expected this reaction—it was practically scripted in the novel. Professor Corvus's antagonism toward any student who hadn't earned his personal approval was legendary.
"Well, Mr. Uzziel," Corvus continued, his voice carrying effortlessly across the hall, "while that little card might grant you access to this classroom, it does not automatically bestow upon you the intellectual capacity to comprehend what happens within these walls."
The professor's robes swirled dramatically as he turned, gesturing toward the rows of students. "This is Advanced Magical Theory—not so redial course for those who couldn't pass a standard entrance examination."
Julian could feel Franz's calculating gaze boring into him from the front row. The academy's top student wasn't watching with malice but with sothing perhaps more dangerous: genuine interest. Beside him, Francine's eyes had narrowed fractionally, her analytical mind clearly reassessing Julian with this new information.
"I understand, Professor," Julian replied evenly. "I'm here to learn, not disrupt."
"To learn?" Corvus scoffed, his laughter echoing harshly through the hall. "My dear boy, you can't possibly grasp even the fundantal principles we discuss here. This class builds upon concepts that second-year students have spent months mastering."
Julian said nothing, simply waiting for what he knew would co next.
The novel had described this scene in detail—though he'd never imagined he would be playing such a central role in it.
"Very well," Corvus declared, sweeping his arm toward the massive crystal board at the front of the lecture hall.
"If you insist on remaining, let us see if your 'special admission' translates to actual ability."
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