The man behind the desk barely looked up at first, but the moment his eyes fell on my work, he straightened in his seat. With swift, practiced movements, he rearranged the papers I had fumbled, placing everything in perfect order.
"That's impressive," he said with a nod, his voice carrying an air of authority. "At least we can be assured you're no intruder."
He reached into a pile of parchments and pulled one free, sliding it across the desk toward Thomas.
"You're expected to fill this form," he added, his sharp gaze fixed on us.
Thomas sat down, his hand steady as he began to answer the questions on the parchment. I stood by, nervously tapping my foot, my eyes darting around the room. The sound of the pen scratching against the paper was the only noise, a reminder of the weight of this moment.
Once Thomas was done, the man took the form, skimmed through it, and handed us another parchment, this one bearing a crisp, official-looking signature.
"You'll need this for the rest of your arrangements," he said, sliding it into Thomas's waiting hand. Then, his eyes turned to me, his expression softening slightly.
"Step closer," he said, extending a hand for a firm handshake. "Welcome to the Police Force Academy."
The handshake felt like sealing a pact, a moment I wouldn't forget. As soon as I stepped back, Thomas and I left the office, the gravity of what just happened pressing down on me.
The moment we stepped into the hallway, a voice rang out.
"There he is!"
I turned sharply to see the receptionist pointing in our direction. My stomach churned as a uniformed officer stepped forward, his expression unreadable.
"I need to speak with you both," the officer said in a tone that brooked no argument. He gestured for us to follow him, leading us outside the reception hall to where his cart was parked. The air felt thick with tension, and my chest tightened as he turned to me.
"What's your name, young man?" he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.
My throat tightened. Words failed me. Talking to a police officer for the first time was nothing like I'd imagined. Finally, I managed to stammer out, "Rowan... Rowan John."
The officer nodded, but his gaze didn't waver. "I received a report about you. Your name stands out different from the other clan members. And you were seen without a parent. Where was your father at the time?"
My mind raced, desperately searching for an answer that wouldn't incriminate me. But my mouth refused to move.
"He was at the barber's shop," Thomas interjected smoothly before I could embarrass myself further.
I blinked, looking at Thomas's neatly trimmed hair. Had it always been that way? How had I not noticed? His calm demeanor made it almost believable.
The officer studied us both for a moment before asking, "Which district are you from?"
I froze again. My knowledge of the clans was almost nonexistent.
"Diachi District," Thomas answered without hesitation.
The officer nodded, satisfied. "Alright. You're free to go." He waved us off, and relief washed over me like a cool breeze.
Once we were far enough away, I turned to Thomas, my voice low and urgent.
"How do you always come up with the right answers?"
Thomas grinned. "Basic knowledge, my friend. The Diachi District is the only one where foreigners with elemental abilities are accepted. It was the safest bet."
"Not just that," I pressed. "The barber's shop lie you always seem to have the perfect answer. It's like... it's like you have some kind of system."
Thomas chuckled, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "You guessed it. I wield the System of Mischief. Your IQ must be improving if you figured that out."
I stared at him, equal parts impressed and bewildered. Before I could ask more, we reached the classroom hall, a towering structure that seemed to hum with energy. The doors loomed ahead, signaling the end of my journey with Thomas.
As we walked closer, I caught sight of a name written on a nearby parchment. "Asriel Blackwood," I read aloud. "Is that...?"
Thomas nodded. "That's his name now. He's changed identities since coming to this clan. Without the illustrations next to the names, I wouldn't have recognized him either."
A chill ran down my spine as we approached the entrance. Parents lingered nearby but weren't allowed to go any further. The weight of responsibility settled on my shoulders as Thomas turned to me for the final time.
"Thank you, sir," I said, my voice sincere.
Thomas gave me a small smile. "Remember keep a low profile. Don't expose who you truly are. This is where our paths part."
He turned and walked away, leaving me alone. I stood there for a moment, taking a deep breath before exhaling slowly.
Steeling myself, I pushed open the heavy doors and stepped inside. The hall was grand, buzzing with voices and activity. My steps felt heavier as I approached the front desk and handed the parchment to the man seated there.
He barely glanced at me before nodding and directing me down a corridor.
"You'll find your teacher at the end of that hallway. His name is Mr. Asriel Blackwood," he said, his tone brisk.
I nodded and made my way down the hall, each step echoing in the silence. My journey had truly begun.