Waking up, my mind felt clearer. I quickly realized I hadn't cleaned up the ritual the former body owner had attempted. If anyone found it, things could turn bad for me—really bad. I got up and immediately began tidying up. I disposed of the candles and wiped away the remnants of the magic circle. Afterward, I checked the time and date. It was 6:30 AM, the second month of the Draconian calendar, year 2304.
Seeing the time, I let out a breath of relief. I didn't have any classes today. A free day. I couldn't remember the last time I had one. Back in my old world, all my days were packed with work.
Still, I couldn't leave the academy premises without a valid reason, so I decided to grab something to eat at the cafeteria. The academy operated on credits called **rens**, which could be earned by completing academy tasks or trading magic stones. Top students also received a monthly allowance, the amount depending on their rank. Thankfully, I had enough ren to get by for now.
I made my way to the cafeteria. Once inside, I scanned the menu and saw the desserts section. "Damn, these are expensive," I muttered under my breath. Even so, I decided to treat myself and bought something sweet. Finding a seat, I started eating, savoring every bite.
As I was nearing the end of my meal, the atmosphere shifted. Conversations quieted, and the air grew heavy with tension. It was subtle at first, but I recognized it immediately—something was about to happen.
I glanced toward the entrance and spotted him. Maxwell.
He walked in with the kind of swagger that only came from someone who knew they were untouchable. Flanked by his two lackeys, Maxwell exuded an aura of control, his cold eyes scanning the room like a predator assessing its prey. The cafeteria seemed to shrink in his presence.
I sighed internally. Of course—this was straight out of a novel, and it looked like I was about to witness my first real-life "scene" play out.
Maxwell's gaze landed on a table where someone was already seated.
When I saw who it was, I wasn't surprised. Alaric, our dear main character.
I shook my head. "Of all the spots, why his?" I muttered. It was so cliché, yet here it was, unfolding in front of me.
Maxwell strode over to the table, his lackeys trailing behind him like shadows. He stopped just short of Alaric's seat, his lips curling into a faint, humorless smile.
One of his lackeys stepped forward first, his voice sharp and commanding. "Hey, get up. You're in Maxwell's spot."
Alaric didn't even look up. He continued eating, his movements slow and deliberate, as if the other boy hadn't spoken at all.
The lackey's brow twitched. "I said, get up. You're in Maxwell's spot."
Alaric finally paused, his fork hovering over his plate. He looked up, his eyes meeting the lackey's. "I don't see his name on it," he said, his tone calm but edged with defiance.
The lackey bristled. His face darkened, his hands balling into fists. "You… You dare talk back to Maxwell?"
Maxwell raised a hand, silencing the lackey with a single gesture. He stepped forward, his gaze fixed on Alaric.
"Fuck off," Maxwell said simply. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried an unmistakable authority.
Alaric met his gaze, his expression unreadable. For a moment, the tension in the air was suffocating.
"I'm comfortable here," Alaric said finally. His tone was light, almost dismissive, but I caught the way his shoulders tensed slightly.
Maxwell's smile widened, but there was no humor in it. He leaned forward, his hands resting on the edge of the table. The wood creaked under the pressure, the sound unnervingly loud in the now-silent cafeteria.
"You think this is funny?" Maxwell asked, his voice low and dangerous. "Do you have any idea who you're talking to?"
Alaric didn't answer right away. His eyes flicked to Maxwell's hands, then back to his face. "Someone with an overinflated ego, apparently," he said.
A ripple of gasps spread through the cafeteria. Maxwell's lackeys took a step forward, their faces twisted in anger, but Maxwell held up a hand again, stopping them.
"Bold," Maxwell said, straightening. His smile vanished, replaced by something darker—something that made my stomach twist. "But stupid."
In one swift motion, Maxwell reached for Alaric's throat, but before he could make contact, he slammed his hand down on the table instead. The impact was deafening, the sound echoing through the cafeteria like a gunshot. Plates rattled. Alaric flinched, his shoulders jerking slightly.
That was when I saw it—the crack in Alaric's facade. He was trying to stay calm, but his breathing had quickened ever so slightly. His knuckles were white as he gripped his fork, and there was a flicker of something in his eyes. Fear, maybe.
"Stop!"
The voice rang out sharply, freezing Maxwell in his tracks. Visibly annoyed, he turned to see who dared to intervene.
It was Aurora.
"Aurora, this has nothing to do with you. Mind your business," he snapped.
Aurora didn't back down. "Fights aren't allowed in the academy without an instructor's supervision," she said firmly, her voice cutting through the tension.
"You think I care?" Maxwell shouted back.
"You should," Aurora shot back, her fierce expression daring him to continue.
Maxwell glared at her, then glanced back at Alaric. For a long moment, he just stood there, his jaw clenched, his fists trembling with anger. Then, in one sudden motion, he slammed his hand down on Alaric's table again, causing the dishes to rattle.
The entire cafeteria went silent.
Alaric flinched this time, visibly recoiling in his seat. His lips pressed into a thin line, and he clenched his fists under the table, but he stayed quiet.
Maxwell leaned in close, his voice dripping with venom. "Consider yourself lucky... for now."
With that, he turned and stormed out of the cafeteria, his henchmen following closely behind. The sound of the door slamming echoed through the room.
Aurora let out a sigh of relief, then walked toward Alaric. "Sorry about what happened earlier. I hope you weren't intimidated," she said, her voice softer now.
Alaric hesitated before responding. "I'm fine," he said, though his voice sounded strained. "Thanks for stepping in, by the way. My name's Alaric."
"Aurora," she replied with a small nod. "Nice to meet you. I should head back, though. And be careful—knowing Maxwell, this won't end here."
With that, she left the cafeteria.
Alaric sat there for a moment longer, staring down at the table where Maxwell's handprint was faintly visible in the dust. He let out a shaky exhale before standing and leaving the cafeteria, his steps hurried.
"Damn, I'm so weak," Alaric muttered to himself. "Someone needs to step up before I resolve this problem." He clenched his fists. "I need to get stronger." Alaric left feeling defeated.
Well, you can count on a heroine to save the protagonist in moments like this. For a weak guy, he had a strong facade. I guess our protagonist doesn't back down easily from a fight—that's to be expected of him, I guess desert scene is over.