Histori's steps resonated through the bustling corridor, accompanied by the familiar school symphony—the metallic screech of lockers opening and shutting, mingled with the cacophony of students chattering about trivial matters.
The walls of the high school radiated opulence and grandeur, with their polished marble panels and gleaming pillars that seemed to narrate tales of generations of elite students.
It was truly the kind of school any student would dream of attending—unless there was a better option, which was rare. After all, this was the North London Collegiate Jeju, an elite boarding school with a British-inspired educational system. The name "London" evoked a sense of academia, though most of the minds here were utterly hollow, at least from Histori's unique perspective.
While everyone here sought a bright future, Histori was only concerned with the present.
Standing near one of the vending machines, he moved slowly, his cold eyes scanning his surroundings. He slipped his hand into his pocket, observing as a boy approached the scanner attached to the payment terminal. The boy raised his wristwatch to the device, and after a confirming beep, he retrieved his drink and left.
Histori watched him for a moment before glancing down at his own wrist. His black digital watch, issued by the school, gleamed under the artificial lights. Imitating the boy's actions, he placed his watch near the scanner. The machine beeped, confirming the transaction, and he grabbed a soda.
"Works just like money," Histori muttered to himself.
But as he stared at the dark screen of his watch, he noticed something strange—no numbers, no balance, just an empty void of blackness. He brushed the thought aside, postponing any deeper consideration for later.
His thoughts wandered back to his attempts to convince his father to enroll him in an ordinary school. It had felt like acting in a play where the ending was already known. His father, an exceptionally sharp man, saw through Histori's intentions as clearly as a hunter tracking its prey.
The first reason was glaringly obvious—Histori's aversion to the pretentious world of the wealthy and his desperate attempt to escape the shadow of his socially adept siblings. Being among them felt like a black ink droplet in a sea of crystal-clear water—desperate to disappear, yet always unmistakably visible.
Even though his siblings adored him, a simple interaction with them would inevitably drag him into dealing with countless students and force him into making numerous friendships—an irreversible path he wished to avoid.
It was akin to a cloud trying to evade the sun's rays, only to fail, even on a rainy day, for it bore two faces.
The second, more compelling reason was the simplicity of public-school curricula—they were less demanding and easier to navigate. This would grant Histori more freedom and time to himself.
As he walked with deliberate, heavy steps, his hands in his pockets, he noticed a group of first-year students gathered around a noticeboard. Their red-tinged ties—a distinctive mark of their newness—betrayed their inexperience.
From their chatter and demeanor, Histori realized that not everyone here came from wealth; many had been admitted on recommendation.
His piercing gaze dissected the scene, capturing every detail—faces that radiated affluence, clusters of students surrounding their seniors, who flaunted their knowledge of both the written and unwritten school rules.
Histori approached to observe what had captured their attention. From a distance, he scanned the list of names on the noticeboard, easily spotting his own without needing to push through the irritating crowd.
A sudden, light touch on his shoulder disrupted his train of thought. Turning, he was met with the sight of a girl who radiated beauty like a classical painting—blonde hair swaying with the breeze and amethyst eyes glinting like polished gemstones.
"Cesica Aurora," she introduced herself, her voice soft and slightly hesitant. She stood before him in her elegant uniform, her long socks setting her apart from the other girls, who preferred shorter ones to show off their legs.
Histori's expression remained frozen, like a mask devoid of any emotion, unsettling the girl and causing her features to flush with nervousness. "Excuse me… Do you have good eyesight? Umm… Could you—" she began, but before she could finish her stammered request, he interrupted her with a quick reply:
"You're in Class D."
Without waiting for her reaction, he walked away with measured steps, leaving her staring at his fading figure, a question lingering in the air—how had he known her class without taking a second glance at the list?
Histori had read her mind before she could finish her request. But what truly puzzled Cesica was that she hadn't seen him look at the list again before answering her.
Her mind buzzed with unanswered questions, but they quickly faded as her friends arrived, distracting her from the strange encounter.
The hallway stretched long, branching into multiple directions like a corridor leading to another world. On either side, doors were meticulously aligned with military precision, each bearing white plaques inscribed with shorthand symbols for student categories: A - B - C.
When Histori reached the door marked 1-D, he felt an unusual calmness, as if the classroom behind it wasn't like any other. He pushed the door open slowly, only to find the room empty except for a single boy. His thick black hair framed hazel eyes glued to his phone in absolute silence.
For a fleeting moment, their gazes met, but the boy quickly returned his attention to his phone, as if nothing had happened.
Histori advanced quietly, his crimson eyes scanning the classroom. Everything seemed excessively organized: desks arranged in perfect straight lines, each adorned with a small card bearing a student's name. He muttered under his breath, a trace of sarcasm lacing his tone:
"Reserving seats like this? What are they afraid of, losing their spots?"
He wandered between the desks, searching for one that suited him. Finally, he settled behind the boy with black hair, choosing the last seat by the window. This spot held echoes of his childhood in middle school—his usual refuge, where he could lose himself gazing out at the world whenever boredom struck.
He sat down slowly, as though the seat recognized him. Pulling a black pen from his small bag, he scrawled his name on the card at his desk: Histori Martinez.
Minutes ticked by, feeling like hours, before the room began to fill gradually. Students entered in waves—girls whispering in hushed tones and boys laughing loudly. Before long, the classroom turned into something resembling a chaotic zoo.
The boy in front of Histori seemed visibly annoyed, his scowl deepening with every rise in the noise level. Suddenly, he pulled his phone out of his pocket only to shove it back in with obvious frustration. He muttered audibly:
"God, they're animals!"
Histori couldn't help but respond, without even looking up:
"You're not wrong."
A brief silence followed, as if they were both gauging each other's thoughts amidst the chaos. Finally, the boy spoke without turning around:
"Your name?"
"Histori Martinez."
"I'm Mahoro Ryota."
The exchange was brief, barely enough for introductions, yet there was something in their tones—an odd mix of indifference and mutual understanding.
Suddenly, a heavy silence fell over the room, as though time itself had paused. All eyes turned toward the door, where the shadow of a figure loomed. From its feminine shape, it was clear the person was a woman.
Her footsteps echoed on the polished white marble floor, rhythmic and deliberate, like the ticking of a clock heralding a new era. When she finally entered, she was indeed a woman of commanding presence, seemingly in her mid-thirties. Her piercing green eyes swept the room, framed by chestnut-brown hair that flowed freely down her back.
She walked toward her desk, placing a small bag on it, and stood silently for a full minute, her gaze weighing every student with a single look. At last, she spoke in a calm yet firm voice:
"Welcome to your first year."
Turning to the board, she wrote her name in elegant handwriting: Aria Yoon. She faced the class with a faint smile and said:
"I'll be your class teacher for this year. I hope we enjoy a long, challenging journey together."
Her words came slowly, as though carefully measured. She paused briefly before beginning to pace the room, her sharp gaze examining the students' faces with a mix of curiosity and authority.
The room was steeped in silence, as if everyone was waiting for something significant to happen. Meanwhile, Histori kept his eyes fixed on the window, watching the outside world reflected in the glass. He wondered to himself:
"Will I find anything here worth my attention?"
Aria stepped back slightly from the board after writing her name and surveyed the class once more. Her tone softened, but it still carried a hint of warning:
"I know this day feels strange and new to you, doesn't it? But don't worry. If you have any questions about this school, don't hesitate to ask. Before we start, however, I need to clarify something important regarding the rules."
Her voice paused momentarily, ensuring everyone's attention, before continuing with unexpected gravity:
"Under no circumstances may any student with abilities use them within school grounds. This is non-negotiable and an absolutely strict rule. Any violation of this law will result in severe punishment."
A hand shot up from among the students. It belonged to a calm, confident boy wearing thick glasses. His face radiated intelligence. He spoke in a steady voice:
"But, sensei... why?"
Arya responded in a calm yet unyielding voice, "Because this is an ordinary school, not an academy for extraordinary abilities. I realize that most students here either have no powers or possess very weak ones. The school is built on the principle of absolute equality; the goal here is to study and learn, not to display powers."
Histori gazed out of the window, half-listening to what was being said, while his mind delved deep into analyzing the situation. He murmured to himself, "It makes sense. If someone had a strong power, they'd be in an academy for abilities, not here. But still... there are obvious gaps. Everything seems vague and suspicious. My first day here feels anything but promising."
"The clever one tells me, what's the gap?"
At that moment, his inner voice was interrupted by a question from one of the students, Jessica Aurora, the same girl he had met near the classroom board earlier. She raised her hand and asked with a smile, "Sensei, can you explain to us the benefits of this watch?"
She was pointing to the black digital watch wrapped around each student's wrist. Histori looked at his own watch—it was still off, despite his previous attempts to fiddle with its buttons to no avail.
Arya smiled lightly, then opened her laptop and pressed a few keys.
In the next moment, the watches emitted a sound resembling a phone notification, and small digital screens lit up displaying the number: 1500.
The students stared at their watches in amazement, while one of them scratched his head in confusion and asked, "What does this number mean?"
A student sitting next to him responded, "See? My watch shows the same number too—1500—but... nothing else."
Arya gently tapped the board to regain their attention. Once everyone was looking at her, she spoke in a confident tone, as though revealing a significant secret, "This watch... is the lifeline of your existence in this school."
Her words hung heavy in the air, but she didn't allow them time to ponder too long. She continued in her usual tone, "The number you see represents your balance, and the balance is the official currency of this school. Each point of balance equals 1500 won. Each of you has been given this starting balance, which will be replenished monthly until the end of the year."
The students' shock turned to smiles, and whispers began to spread among them. No one could hide their excitement. Each balance point equaled actual money, meaning the total monthly balance reached 2,250,000 won—a substantial amount, enough to live comfortably for any student.
But Histori, as usual, didn't share their enthusiasm. In fact, there were two students—Ryota, with black hair, and a girl with sharp features—who remained as calm as he was.
As for Histori, he was thinking about something entirely different. He remembered the details of his purchase of a juice box before entering the school. The watch hadn't been working then, yet the transaction had gone through smoothly. That small piece of information lingered in his mind like a splinter.
It was as if the teacher could hear his thoughts. Arya's voice broke his concentration, as she smiled with a slight hint of sarcasm and said, folding her arms, "By the way, if you bought anything before entering the school, it was completely free. Congratulations, you've received a gift from the school."
A brief silence fell over the class, then chaos erupted once again. Everyone was stunned by this revelation. But Histori, with his cold, analytical mind, understood something different.
"If the older students—those in the second and third years—already knew about this, why didn't anyone tell us? Why were they laughing at the new students and not sharing this information with us?"
He took a deep breath, and a dark thought crept into his mind: "No one here wants good for anyone else—not in this school... and not anywhere else."
Here's the translation with your notes incorporated:
Arya smiled confidently, a smile resembling that of a hunter who knows perfectly well that they've set their trap with precision, before saying cheerfully, as if telling a joke: "How many people here have abilities? I mean, how many here are considered awake, escaping from their world to our ordinary one?"
A soft murmur spread among the students, but no one raised their hand. Silence descended on the room, and breaths were held, as if no one dared reveal themselves. Arya chuckled, her laughter sounding like a mix of sarcasm and amusement, before adding: "Well done! This is exactly what I want... keep everything a secret. I'm sure you all got the message anyway. Any questions?"
A student shyly raised her hand, as if daring to break the tense atmosphere. She had light brown hair and soft, childlike features, and she asked in a low voice: "Can we visit our families during the holiday?"
Suddenly, a stern expression appeared on Arya's face, as if she had transformed into a different person. She responded coldly and decisively: "No. That's not possible."
Silence fell again, but this time it was heavy, like a black cloud hanging over the class. Suddenly, one of the students shouted out boldly, with a hint of anger: "Hey! Are we being kidnapped or what? Why can't we visit our parents during the holiday?"
Arya turned toward him slowly, gazing at him with a cold, penetrating look, before replying in a calm tone, though one that carried an underlying threat: "You can leave if you don't like the rules. But let me explain something simple to you first..."
She pulled out a chair and sat in front of the students, as if preparing for a long speech, then continued in a calm but heavy voice: "This school is equipped with all kinds of cultural and recreational centers. You'll never need to contact the outside world. Just last year, the school was expanded to cover over 2 square kilometers. We have vast green spaces, different gardens, and janitors working around the clock. You'll be able to explore the school yourselves later, because tomorrow is a holiday."
She then pointed to a digital board behind her and said: "A digital system will soon be set up that connects your watches, your phones, and everything else. Everything here... is under the strict surveillance of the central computer."
At this point, Arya looked at the students with her icy eyes and said with a cunning smile: "I hope you all have a nice day."
The students stared at her in astonishment and confusion, while some whispered among themselves. As for Histori, he was sitting by the window, his red eyes following the birds outside, showing no apparent interest in what was happening inside the classroom. He seemed distant, as if this place meant nothing to him. He muttered sarcastically to himself: "Looks like I got a free ticket to hell... My mom's going to kill me if she finds out about this nonsense."
Suddenly, Arya clapped, interrupting everyone's thoughts, and said cheerfully: "Okay! How about we play a fun game?"
Eyebrows were raised, and whispers echoed through the class. Their looks were suspicious, as if they were waiting for her to say she was joking. But Arya smiled playfully and said while adjusting her necklace: "Some of you have abilities. Every ordinary person has to figure out who has an ability. If you succeed, I'll reward the winner... maybe recommend them for a prestigious university, or maybe change their future for the better."
Eyes began to shift nervously between students. Each person looked at the others, as if studying them. One of them, a slender young man wearing glasses, raised his hand and asked: "Is the challenge applicable to all classes?"
Arya laughed and said: "No... just this class. I'm bored."
She then turned toward the door and said before leaving: "The rest of the day is a holiday. Tomorrow as well. And don't forget... anyone who figures out someone's ability must present conclusive proof... or at least be smart enough."
As soon as she left, chaos ensued. Speculations started flying through the air, as if the classroom had turned into a battlefield. Whispers and veiled accusations were like stray bullets.
Ryota, sitting directly in front of Histori, leaned back in his chair and spoke in a low voice, "We're going to have a tough time with that woman this year. I haven't trusted her from the start."
Histori replied in a quiet, emotionless tone, "Neither have I."
Then, he suddenly stood up. He appeared calm, but his sudden movement made everyone's eyes follow him with suspicion. They looked at him as if he had become the primary suspect, but he paid them no attention. He walked toward the door with steady steps, thinking sarcastically to himself: "Excellent... A simple movement made these fools think I'm the target. Is there a power called 'urination' or something?"
He left the classroom, leaving behind a storm of doubts and whispers.
---
A Quarter Hour After Class:
The sound of Histori's footsteps as he ascended the stairs echoed silently through the empty hallway. The cold air in the school mirrored the chill in his frozen thoughts. Nothing could shake him from his eerie calm. He finally reached the school roof. The roof was vast, surrounded by a metal fence to prevent falls, a place that seemed deserted but had a unique charm, as though it was a refuge for wandering souls.
There, Arya was waiting for him. The wind played with her silky hair and fluttered the edges of her long coat. She stood at the edge of the roof, beside the fence, looking at the horizon. A mixture of mystery and indifference controlled her face. When she turned to face Histori, her smile was calm, but carried a hint of challenge.
"That was quick," she said in a playful tone, "I didn't expect you to be this efficient."
Histori walked towards her with steady steps, hands in his pockets, his expression blank. His face was like a blank page, unreadable.
"Mahoro Ryota... the one with the electricity ability."
He said it directly, without any beating around the bush. His cold tone left no room for any potential games.
Arya smiled slyly. She hadn't expected this kind of boldness from a student on his first day. "Heh, take it easy, you're very direct... But you realize it's not that
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And here is the end of the chapter
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