BOOM!
The explosion rocked the greenhouse, sending a blinding wave of golden-blue energy in all directions. The students scread, so ducking under tables, others shielding their faces as the force knocked over potted plants and shattered glass.
Aiden barely managed to throw up an arm to protect himself from the heat. Sevan stumbled backward, his ears ringing. Adrian, wide-eyed, stared as the dust slowly settled, revealing the devastation left behind.
And in the center of it all, where the new student had once stood, was nothing but scorched earth.
His desk was obliterated. The plant pot shattered. Even the air itself seed charged with unnatural energy, crackling softly as if the magic had yet to fully dissipate.
The girls shrieked, so clutching onto each other, their faces contorted in horror.
A few even burst into tears, pointing frantically at the scorched remains where their classmate had once stood.
"He- he exploded! He’s dead!" one of them wailed, clutching her chest as if she might faint.
Jarek and Rupert were both panicking.
Jarek had scrambled back so fast he tripped over a pot, while Rupert was gripping his own hair, eyes wide with shock.
"What- what do we do?! What do we do?!" he kept repeating.
The entire classroom had devolved into hysteria. Students were crying, gasping, backing away from the blackened spot as if it might swallow them up next.
And in the midst of it all, Professor Ylang-Ylang stood there, entirely unbothered.
She simply sighed and turned to one of her Divatas.
"What day is it?"
The Divata tilted its head before chirping sothing in a language only she understood.
Professor Ylang-Ylang humd thoughtfully. "Ah. Of course. The scouts are back."
The class was still in shambles. Several students looked like they were about to bolt, others were hyperventilating.
Yet she seed wholly uninterested in their distress, nodding to herself as if a student exploding was no more than a mild inconvenience.
Rupert looked at her as if she were insane. "Professor?! He exploded!"
Jarek had jumped so violently that he tripped over a vine and landed flat on his back. Rupert, clutching his head in disbelief, stamred, "What just— Did he really—Did he just explode?!"
One of the girls sobbed into her hands. "He died! He just got here, and he- Oh, my gods!"
The entire class was in a state of hysteria, students yelling, gasping, pointing at the remains, as if expecting another explosion to occur. So were trying to inch toward the exit, unwilling to stand near whatever cursed alchemy had just occurred.
And in the middle of it all, Professor Ylang-Ylang sighed.
Not in horror. Not in concern.
Just… tired resignation.
She massaged her temples as her Divata fluttered near her ear, whispering sothing in its tiny voice. With a long breath, she muttered, "So it is today."
Adrian, Aiden, and Sevan were still in shock, eyes locked on the place where the boy had once stood.
Aiden, mouth slightly open, whispered, "Did… did he just die?"
Sevan looked sick. "What kind of school is this?"
Adrian, though equally shocked, noticed the professor’s reaction- or rather, lack of reaction.
Professor Ylang-Ylang turned to her Divata. "Confirm for , dear. The scouts are back, aren’t they?"
The tiny creature chirped in affirmation.
She sighed again, rubbing her forehead. "Of course they are."
anwhile, the class was still in absolute disarray.
"I knew it! This school is insane!" Rupert was wailing.
Jarek, now sitting up, pointed wildly at the scene. "No one finds this concerning?! A student just arrived and imdiately died in a botany class!"
One of the girls was shaking her head, tears streaming down her face. "He said he wanted to be like the Headmaster! He wanted to rise through!" She sniffled dramatically. "And he did, for a second, before-before-"
She let out a choked sob.
Students were either still frozen in terror or whispering frantically to each other. So had even grabbed their things, ready to bolt from the greenhouse.
Professor Ylang-Ylang, still appearing utterly unconcerned, exhaled and said, "Alright, alright, class dismissed."
The students did not need to be told twice.
The mont the words left her lips, they stampeded out of the greenhouse, so tripping over the plant beds in their desperation to flee.
Aiden, Adrian, and Sevan lingered just long enough to see the professor lazily waving a hand, directing the Divatas to start cleaning up.
Then Adrian leaned in and muttered, "She’s not even surprised."
By the ti the first years stumbled into the main halls, their faces were pale, their voices frantic, and their words jumbled with panic. It didn’t take long before whispers beca shouts, and soon, the entire corridor was buzzing with the sa unbelievable tale.
"Did you hear? A transfer student exploded in botany class!"
"No way, what?"
"I swear! One mont, he was standing there, and then- boom! Gone!"
"Professor Ylang-Ylang didn’t even react! She just sighed and dismissed class like nothing happened!"
"She sighed! Like it was normal!"
"You’re joking—tell you’re joking!"
But the first years weren’t joking. If anything, the terror on their faces only made the story all the more convincing.
Soon, students from every year were gathering, leaning in to catch the details, exchanging glances as the news spread like wildfire.
Among them, a group of fourth years stopped mid-step. One of them, a tall girl with dark brown hair, narrowed her eyes. "Wait. A transfer student exploded?"
"Yeah!" a breathless first-year panted, still recovering. "He asked what we were supposed to do, and when the professor told him not to pour both vials at the sa ti, he just went—’Oh! Like this?’—and did it anyway!"
Silence fell over the upper years.
Then, after a few beats, one of them exhaled sharply and muttered, "Oh, for the love of—it’s Lopt, isn’t it?"
The mont the na was spoken, it was like a dam broke.
Several fourth and fifth years groaned, so dragging their hands down their faces, others muttering curses under their breath.
"Of course it’s Lopt."
"Who else would it be?"
"He just got here! Already?"
"Already? If it is him, he’s probably been here for days without anyone knowing."
"I knew sothing was off the mont I heard ’transfer student.’"
anwhile, the first years only looked more bewildered by the second. "Wait, who’s Lopt?"
A fourth-year girl crossed her arms. "A nace."
A third-year beside her scowled. "A scout."
"He’s not just any scout," another muttered, shaking his head. "He’s the scout. If the scouts are back, then we’re all in for it."
"You’re saying… this happens often?"
Another fourth-year groaned. "Not often. Just when he shows up."
"Which is whenever he feels like it," a fifth-year added bitterly.
By now, the entire corridor was abuzz, upper years trading glances and muttered speculations while the first years whispered among themselves, trying to piece together the puzzle.
Adrian, Aiden, and Sevan stood slightly apart from the chaos, observing the reactions.
Adrian nudged Aiden. "Well. I think we have our answer."
Aiden exhaled. "So who is Lopt?"
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