Birdsong drifted through the quiet morning, weaving between the trees surrounding Angelita's modest home. Sunlight filtered through the branches, casting shifting patterns across the garden. A gentle breeze stirred the flowers, carrying the faint fragrance of damp earth and fresh grass through the open windows.
It was a peaceful morning.
The kind that seemed to promise an ordinary day, untouched by the troubles of the wider world.
Inside the house, however, the atmosphere was considerably different.
Donovan sat on an old sofa beside Mina. The furniture had clearly endured years of use. Scratches covered the wooden table near the wall, one of its legs had begun to split, and the fabric beneath them had faded from years of wear. Even the walls carried the subtle imperfections of a home built around necessity rather than comfort.
It was a small place. Nothing about it suggested wealth, prestige, or influence.
Donovan observed the room without comment. His pale yellow eyes moved across its modest decorations and worn furnishings, taking in details that most people would have overlooked.
By the standards of the worlds he had known, there was nothing remarkable about this place.
And yet, it possessed something many grander residences lacked.
It felt lived in.
After a moment, he leaned back against the sofa, resting one arm along its back. His gaze settled on the ceiling.
"Are you satisfied with your life?"
Mina's fingers stopped moving.
The question caught her so unexpectedly that, for a moment, she wasn't certain she had heard him correctly.
"Y-Yes..."
She glanced at him, then lowered her eyes again.
"But... why would someone of your stature come to my humble home?"
Her voice grew quieter.
"And in a human form, no less?"
Mina shifted slightly, her posture becoming more formal. Almost instinctively, she began to lower her head in preparation for a bow.
Before she could do so, Donovan raised one hand.
"Don't."
She stopped.
"You don't need to do that."
His tone was calm, almost indifferent.
"For now, I'm simply a normal person."
A brief pause followed.
"At least in appearance."
Mina slowly relaxed her posture, though the tension in her shoulders remained.
Donovan lowered his hand.
"But that isn't what concerns me."
His attention returned to her.
The casual atmosphere that had existed moments earlier began to recede. Nothing in the room visibly changed, yet Mina noticed the difference immediately. The faint sounds of the morning seemed to drift farther away, and the space between them acquired a weight she couldn't quite explain.
Donovan's expression remained unchanged.
"As I told you before..."
His voice was still level.
"What is a being like you doing here?"
Mina's lips parted, but no answer came.
"This isn't your place."
He allowed the words to settle.
"And it isn't your role."
Mina lowered her gaze. Her fingers gradually tightened together in her lap.
"I..."
She swallowed.
"I-I can explain..."
Donovan didn't interrupt.
Outside, a bird continued singing somewhere among the trees. The breeze brushed against the flowers, and the curtains shifted gently beside the window. The world carried on with its ordinary morning, seemingly unaware of the conversation unfolding inside the house.
Mina struggled to find the words.
She had lived long enough to understand that some questions were not asked out of curiosity. Sometimes, they were asked because the answer had already been anticipated.
And Donovan was not someone she could deceive with a convenient explanation.
A few seconds passed.
Then he spoke again.
"If the gods discover this, you know what will happen to your daughter."
Mina's head lifted.
Whatever hesitation had held her back disappeared.
"I won't let them lay a finger on her."
Her voice trembled, but she didn't look away.
"I don't care who they are."
A faint pink light began to gather around her.
"I won't let them take my daughter away from me..."
The glow spread across her shoulders and arms, illuminating the room with an increasingly intense radiance. Her fingers curled into fists, and the air around her began to tremble.
"...even if it means fighting you, Creator!"
Her power erupted.
A brilliant pink aura surged outward, flooding the modest room with light. The wooden floor groaned beneath the pressure, the furniture rattled, and fine cracks crept along the walls. The curtains snapped upward as though caught in a violent wind, while the air itself seemed to shudder around her.
For a brief moment, the little house seemed far too fragile to contain the power she had released.
Donovan, however, remained seated.
His black suit rested perfectly in place. Not even the movement of the air disturbed his hair.
Mina's aura expanded around him, yet it seemed to bend away before reaching his body, as though it had encountered something it could neither touch nor comprehend.
He turned his head toward her.
"If I wanted to harm you or your daughter, believe me, Mina..."
His voice grew colder.
"...you would both be gone before I even arrived."
The pink light flickered.
Mina's raised hand remained suspended for another moment. Her breathing had become uneven, and the force surrounding her gradually lost its intensity.
Then her arm fell.
The room grew quiet.
She stared at Donovan, searching his expression for something—anything—that might help her understand his intentions. Yet the more she tried to read him, the less certain she became.
At last, her shoulders sank.
The strength that had held her upright seemed to leave all at once. She returned to her seat and lowered her face into her hands.
A small sob escaped her.
Then another.
"Angelita..."
Her voice cracked around her daughter's name.
"She's all I have..."
She tried to continue, but her breathing refused to settle.
"She is my true love... my daughter..."
One hand pressed against her chest.
"She's half my heart—no..."
Her voice dwindled to little more than a whisper.
"...half my soul."
She wiped her cheeks, though the tears continued to fall.
"Please..."
Her eyes returned to Donovan.
"Please, Creator..."
She swallowed, struggling to keep her voice steady.
"Don't take this life away from me. Don't send me back to that realm."
Her hands trembled.
"Please. I beg you."
For a while, Mina could say nothing more.
She had built a life here. It wasn't grand, and it certainly hadn't been easy. There had been hardships, humiliations, and more than enough moments when the world had seemed determined to make her regret every choice she had made.
But Angelita had been there through all of it.
Her daughter was not simply someone Mina loved. She was the reason the smallest, most ordinary moments of this life had become precious to her.
A shared meal. A quiet conversation. The sound of Angelita moving around the house in the morning.
Things that might have seemed insignificant to anyone else had become treasures.
And now, the thought of losing them—the thought of being separated from the person who had given this life its meaning—was more than Mina could bear.
Donovan watched her in silence.
Then his attention shifted beyond the present moment.
He saw memories.
Mina holding Angelita for the first time. The small child resting in her arms, unaware of the world into which she had been born.
He saw the years that followed.
The moment people discovered that Angelita was Unawakened. The looks exchanged between neighbors. The whispers that followed Mina through the streets. The accusations that she was an unfit mother, as though a child's lack of an Awakening were something that could be blamed on the person who loved her.
He saw the stones thrown at them.
The hostility.
The humiliation.
But those were not the memories that held his attention.
There were others.
Mina sitting beside her daughter, patiently teaching her to read. Mina comforting her after another difficult day. Mina reminding her that kindness was not weakness, that forgiveness did not mean surrender, and that the world's judgment did not determine the value of a person.
He saw a mother who had continued to give her daughter reasons to smile, even when she had very little to offer.
And he saw Angelita listening.
Learning.
Growing.
The memories passed.
Donovan's gaze returned to Mina.
"Even if I wanted to..."
He paused.
"...I couldn't tear a mother away from her daughter."
Mina slowly raised her head.
Donovan continued.
"And I have no intention of sending you back to those realms."
The tension in his voice had eased.
"Live however you wish."
He looked directly at her.
"You have my word."
Mina stared at him.
For several seconds, she seemed unable to respond. Her lips parted, but the words she wanted to say refused to come.
"You... really mean that?"
"Yes."
One word.
No hesitation. No attempt to soften the answer with unnecessary promises.
Mina's eyes filled again, but this time she no longer tried to hide the tears.
"R-Really...?"
A fragile smile appeared on her face.
"Am I really allowed to keep the life I've built?"
Donovan answered without changing his tone.
"Yes."
He paused.
"You have my word."
Something in Mina finally gave way—not from fear this time, but from the sudden release of a burden she had carried for far too long.
She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him.
"Thank you..."
She held him tightly, her voice muffled against his suit.
"Thank you so much..."
Donovan's eyes widened slightly.
For a brief moment, he seemed uncertain about how to respond. His hands remained where they were, and he simply allowed her to hold on.
He wasn't particularly accustomed to being embraced.
After a moment, he raised one hand.
"Hey..."
He paused.
"Alright, alright."
A faint awkwardness entered his voice.
"But this is hardly appropriate."
Mina froze.
She slowly pulled back.
Then she looked down.
Only then did she realize that, in her overwhelming relief, she had somehow ended up sitting on his lap.
Her face turned bright red.
"Eek!"
She scrambled backward and returned to her place on the sofa.
"I'm sorry!"
Mina sat upright, desperately trying to recover her composure. She smoothed her clothes and looked anywhere but at Donovan.
He glanced at her.
Then, as though nothing particularly unusual had happened, he turned his attention forward.
"Don't worry about it."
Mina cautiously looked toward him.
The conversation had begun with a question that could have changed her entire life. Yet somehow, after all that tension, she had managed to embarrass herself in the most unexpected way.
She cleared her throat.
"But... you still haven't answered my question."
Donovan turned toward her.
"Why did you take on a physical form?"
Her expression grew serious again.
"And what does this have to do with my daughter?"
Donovan released a quiet sigh and adjusted his black tie.
"You know nothing..."
He paused.
"...but I do."
Mina listened carefully.
"This isn't the first time I've met Angelita."
His gaze drifted toward the window.
"Nor is this the first time I've descended into the Lower Realm."
Mina's expression changed.
Donovan continued.
"I noticed distortions in space-time across several parallel universes."
His voice remained composed.
"That is the primary reason I came here."
Mina's eyes widened.
Distortions in space-time?
That was no ordinary occurrence. The Lower Realm was considered one of the weakest regions of existence, yet its position within the balance of the Finite-Infinite World made such disturbances particularly unusual.
How could something capable of affecting space-time have appeared here?
"But..."
Mina frowned.
"That's unheard of."
She hesitated, trying to organize her thoughts.
"I mean... the multiverse within the Finite-Infinite World..."
Her gaze shifted slightly as possibilities began to form in her mind.
"Could it be that the reason is—"
Donovan raised one hand.
Mina stopped.
"I know who you're thinking of."
His gaze remained fixed ahead.
"But it is neither her nor him."
Mina fell silent.
"I've already dealt with the person responsible."
He lowered his hand.
"That's enough for now."
There was no invitation to continue the subject. Mina understood that pressing him would accomplish little, especially when he had already made it clear that he wouldn't explain further.
She was still trying to make sense of his explanation when footsteps suddenly echoed from the staircase.
"MOM!"
Angelita came rushing downstairs.
"I felt the house shake a moment ago! Are you okay?"
She hurried into the room, her eyes moving from one side to the other. She examined the walls, the furniture, and the windows, searching for whatever might have caused the disturbance.
But there was nothing.
No broken furniture.
No damaged walls.
Not even a trace of the cracks that had appeared moments earlier.
Everything had been restored.
Mina noticed Angelita's searching gaze, then briefly glanced at Donovan.
A faint smile touched her lips.
Of course.
Angelita approached the sofa.
"Good morning, my little one."
"Good morning, Mom."
Angelita looked around once more.
"But what happened just now?"
Mina's expression stiffened.
"W-Well..."
She glanced at Donovan before forcing a smile.
"As you can see, your trainer Donovan was showing me some of his abilities. Things got a little out of hand, and the house ended up shaking!"
Her explanation came out rather quickly.
Angelita scratched her head.
"Oh, really?"
She considered it for a moment.
"That makes sense."
Then she noticed Donovan sitting beside her mother.
"Wait..."
Her eyes widened.
"Creator—"
She stopped herself.
"I mean, Donovan!"
She quickly lowered her head.
"Sorry! I didn't notice you were here!"
Donovan slowly turned toward Mina.
A telepathic connection opened between them.
You're really using my name for this?
Mina pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh.
Oh, come on. Don't be like that.
Donovan immediately closed the connection.
His attention returned to Angelita.
"Don't worry about it."
He paused.
"But I have a question."
Angelita blinked.
"Hmm?"
Donovan looked at her.
"Why are you still in your pajamas?"
Silence.
Angelita slowly lowered her gaze.
A slightly fitted T-shirt.
Soft trousers decorated with little kittens.
She stared at her clothes.
Then at Donovan.
Then back at her clothes.
Her cheeks turned scarlet.
"W-Wha—?!"
She had completely forgotten to change before coming downstairs.
"S-Sorry!"
Angelita spun around and rushed toward the staircase.
Within seconds, she had disappeared upstairs.
Mina watched her go.
For a moment, she remained silent.
Then—
"Pfft..."
A laugh escaped her.
She covered her mouth, but it was already too late.
"Hahaha!"
Donovan glanced at her.
Mina tried to compose herself, though the amusement on her face remained.
He looked toward the staircase.
This is the first time in my existence I've encountered someone like her acting so... human.
His gaze lingered on the empty doorway.
It seems even those from up there can be like this.
A brief pause.
Like her.
The thought remained with him for a moment.
That's... a good thing.
"By the way..."
Mina's voice interrupted his thoughts.
Donovan turned toward her.
Her expression had become more thoughtful.
"Why are you helping my daughter, Donovan?"
She studied him.
"From what I can see, there's nothing for you to gain from this."
Donovan considered the question.
His gaze briefly settled on Mina before drifting toward the ceiling.
"She has potential..."
He paused.
"And..."
A faint glow appeared in his pale yellow eyes.
"...a promise I made."
Mina tilted her head.
"A promise?"
"Well..."
Donovan's expression remained composed.
"I'll leave it at that for now."
He looked back at her.
"Those are the reasons."
Mina didn't press him further.
She could tell there was more behind his answer, but she also understood that Donovan rarely explained something simply because another person wanted to know.
Instead, she let the matter rest.
Donovan glanced toward the staircase.
"I'll drop Angelita off at the academy. After that, I'll see what happens."
His voice returned to its usual calmness.
"But be prepared in case something unexpected occurs. You aren't always safe."
Mina rolled her eyes slightly.
Then she smiled.
"You... you're genuinely worried about her—and about me. That's sweet."
Donovan sighed and looked away, resting two fingers against the bridge of his nose.
"Just stay on your guard. I'm giving you a warning, nothing more."
"Hehe."
Mina chuckled softly.
"Alright, alright. I'll be careful. My daughter is lucky to have someone looking out for her now..."
Her smile softened.
"Please, take good care of her."
"I'm not protecting her."
Donovan's reply came without hesitation.
"I'm simply doing as I please..."
He glanced toward the staircase again.
"...until the day she takes flight and spreads her own wings."
Mina smiled.
For a moment, she looked at him with an expression that carried more meaning than her words could easily convey.
Then she spoke in an unfamiliar, ancient language.
The words were quiet, almost reverent. Their sounds carried a rhythm unlike the languages commonly spoken in the Lower Realm. They were not words Angelita would recognize, and their meaning remained between the two of them.
Donovan listened.
Then he answered in the same tongue.
Mina's smile widened slightly.
Before either could say anything more, footsteps sounded from the staircase.
Angelita appeared at the bottom, now dressed in her school uniform. Her long black hair fell neatly over her shoulders, and her dark blue tie rested against the front of her white shirt.
"Here I am!"
She smiled.
"Donovan, shall we go?"
Donovan nodded and stood.
As Angelita headed toward the door, he cast one final glance at Mina.
She met his gaze and gave a small nod.
There was no need for another explanation.
Mina waved goodbye as the two left the house.
Five minutes later, Donovan and Angelita were walking through the district.
The morning had grown brighter. Sunlight rested across the narrow streets, illuminating faded buildings and the uneven pavement beneath their feet. Some shops had already opened, their owners arranging goods near their entrances, while others remained shuttered. A few residents passed by carrying bags or small baskets, and the distant murmur of conversation drifted between the buildings.
The district was gradually coming to life.
Angelita walked beside Donovan, occasionally glancing at him. Her footsteps were light against the uneven pavement, and her long black hair shifted gently with each movement.
After a while, curiosity got the better of her.
"So..."
She tilted her head slightly.
"What were you and Mom talking about?"
Donovan glanced at her before returning his attention to the road.
"That's not what matters."
He looked across the district.
"What's more important is this..."
His eyes moved over the surrounding buildings.
"Are these the slums of the kingdom? Isn't this supposed to be a modern era? Why are there so many impoverished people in this district alone?"
Angelita followed his gaze.
At first, she wasn't entirely sure what he meant. There weren't many people gathered in the immediate street, and the buildings were not all in equally poor condition.
Then she understood.
He wasn't referring to one particular street.
He was referring to the entire district.
Angelita looked around again.
The worn buildings.
The patched roofs.
The narrow alleyways.
The clothes hanging from windows and balconies.
Children playing beside cracked walls, their laughter carrying through streets that had seen better days.
Her expression gradually softened.
"It's because..."
She hesitated.
"Well, not everyone here is Awakened."
Donovan continued looking ahead.
Angelita lowered her eyes.
"That's just how it is. I was one of them, too."
Her voice became quieter.
"We were—and still are—at the very bottom of society. The lowest class."
She didn't elaborate.
She didn't need to.
For Angelita, the district was not simply a collection of old buildings. It was a reminder of the life she had known before her Awakening: the way people had looked at her, the words they had used, and how easily a person's worth could be judged by something they had never chosen.
Her fingers briefly tightened around the edge of her skirt.
Then she let go.
There was no reason to dwell on it now.
Donovan's gaze moved toward a nearby alley.
A few children were sitting beside the roadside.
Their clothes were worn and oversized, and one of them had a sleeve that had been carefully stitched back together. They were gathered close to one another, their attention fixed on the ground. Their conversation had quieted, leaving only the occasional rustle of fabric and the distant sounds of the street.
One child rested a hand against his stomach.
Another did the same.
Donovan slowed his pace.
He understood what he was seeing.
Hunger.
For a moment, he watched them without speaking.
Then he raised one hand.
A soft shimmer appeared in the air.
Several loaves of bread and a handful of apples materialized above the children before settling gently onto the ground in front of them.
The sudden appearance startled them.
"Whoa! What's this?"
A boy looked down.
His eyes widened when he recognized the food.
The girl beside him leaned forward, picking up an apple with both hands. The others stared at the bread as though they weren't entirely certain it was real.
"This... this is food!"
The boy's voice rose with excitement.
"But where did it come from?" the eldest girl asked, looking between her younger siblings.
The boy glanced around.
"I don't know!"
The eldest girl gathered some of the food.
"That doesn't matter! Come on. We can eat, and we can take some home for Mother, too!"
The younger children nodded eagerly.
They collected what they could carry, carefully gathering the bread and apples before exchanging excited glances. Then, together, they hurried down the street.
Their footsteps gradually faded as they disappeared around the corner.
Angelita watched them go.
The small smile on her face remained for a moment before she turned toward Donovan.
"Good heavens, are you—?"
"No."
Donovan had already resumed walking.
Angelita blinked.
She looked at his back, then toward the direction the children had gone.
A small smile gradually appeared on her face.
Could it be that he has a soft spot for children?
A quiet giggle escaped her.
Donovan continued walking.
He had heard her thoughts.
A faint click of his tongue was the only response.
Angelita's smile widened.
For a little while, neither of them said anything.
The district continued around them: the distant voices of residents, the creak of an old sign above a shop, and the steady rhythm of footsteps against uneven pavement.
Angelita walked beside Donovan, her attention occasionally drifting toward the people they passed.
And beside her, Donovan continued forward as though the small act he had just performed required no further thought.
Angelita glanced back one last time.
The children had gathered a short distance away, their small figures already beginning to dissolve into the morning crowd. Their voices drifted back to her, thin and bright against the noise of the street.
"Mom will be okay now," the boy said.
"Yeah… it's strange for food to just fall from the sky, but I'm not complaining," his older sister answered.
The younger girl clutched the bread and apples tightly against her chest, as though afraid they might vanish if she loosened her grip.
"It doesn't matter where it came from," she murmured. "Mom will be proud. Maybe we can even save a little until we find work."
The youngest remained silent for a moment. Then she lifted her face to the sky. Tears slipped down her cheeks, catching the light.
"I'm happy too," she whispered. "Thank you… for everything."
Angelita watched her.
Something quiet and familiar moved in her chest. She knew the weight of an empty stomach. She knew how a single meal could feel like a miracle when the world had offered so little for so long.
I wish they could eat like this every day.
The thought had barely formed when Donovan's voice entered her mind, calm and absolute.
"Don't worry. Their future will be better."
Angelita blinked.
What do you mean?
"I mean their lives will improve," he replied. "And because I have said so, they will."
He did not look back. He simply continued walking, as though the matter required no further discussion.
Angelita turned once more toward the children. She watched until their small shapes disappeared around a corner. Only then did she face forward again.
And as she did, something stirred.
A memory rose, unbidden.
Sunlight filtered through the leaves of an old tree, scattering soft gold across the dirt.
A little girl sat in the shade, tracing patterns in the soil with a stick. Nearby, Mina rested against the trunk, watching her with quiet affection.
"Mo… mmy."
Mina's expression softened.
"What is it, my little one?"
The child did not look up. Her small fingers kept moving in the dirt.
"Why won't the other children play with me?" she asked, her voice thin and puzzled. "Did I do something wrong?"
Mina's smile gentled. She reached down, lifted the girl into her lap, and cupped her small face between both hands so their eyes met.
"And what of it?" she said, warm and steady. "You are the sweetest, most beautiful child in the entire world. If anyone fails to see that, they must be blind."
Angelita stared at her mother for a long moment, as though carefully weighing the words.
Then she leaned forward and wrapped her thin arms around Mina's neck.
"Thank you… Mother."
Mina did not answer. She only held her daughter close, one hand cradling the back of the child's head, while the breeze moved through the leaves above them.
The memory faded like mist under sunlight.
Angelita's awareness returned to the present street. The sounds of the district slowly resolved around her again: distant voices, the scrape of footsteps, the faint creak of an old sign in the wind.
She was still looking at Donovan's back when another image flashed through her mind.
It was almost the same scene…
And yet, not.
A different tree. A different light. A voice she almost recognized, speaking with quiet certainty:
Don't worry. Just follow me everywhere I go.
Pain bloomed behind her eyes.
Angelita's hand flew to her temple. The fragment tried to surface—warm, familiar, important—but it slipped away as quickly as it had come, leaving only a faint ache and the unsettling sense that she had forgotten something she once knew by heart.
The discomfort faded.
She lowered her hand and stared at Donovan's back for several steps longer than necessary.
Then, without speaking, she continued walking.
The house was quiet.
Mina sat alone in the modest kitchen, a cup of tea cooling between her palms. In her other hand, she held a photograph: Angelita at less than a year old, round-cheeked and solemn-eyed.
How small she had been.
How quickly the years had taken her.
Mina's thumb brushed the edge of the picture.
A memory rose, gentle and vivid.
She was sitting on the edge of the bed, cradling the infant against her chest.
The room was dim and still. Angelita's tiny fingers opened and closed in the air.
"You're like an angel," Mina whispered, pressing soft kisses to the baby's forehead and cheeks. "My own little angel… so beautiful."
The child looked up at her.
Then a small hand reached out and touched Mina's face.
A single sound left the baby's lips, clear and deliberate.
"Ma… ma."
Mina froze.
For a heartbeat, she could only stare.
Then a radiant smile broke across her face. She pulled her daughter close, laughing softly as the baby's tiny hands tangled in her hair.
"That's right," she whispered against the soft crown of the child's head. "Mommy's here. Mommy's right here."
The memory receded.
Mina remained at the kitchen table, the photograph resting in her hands.
For a long moment, she simply looked at it.
Then a tear slipped free and landed on the image. Another followed.
She smiled even as she cried.
Her fingertips traced the edge of the photograph with infinite care.
"Don't worry," she whispered. "I will protect you with everything my Concept can give… my little angel."
Moments later, they stood before the academy.
The building rose beyond the iron gates with quiet authority, its pale stone walls and tall windows reflecting the prestige of the institution. Above the main entrance, the WB emblem caught the morning light, gleaming with polished certainty.
Students crossed the courtyard in loose groups. Some spoke in bright, careless voices; others moved with hurried purpose. The air carried the ordinary energy of the start of a school day.
Donovan's gaze moved once across the scene before settling on Angelita.
"Well. Here you are. I'll be heading off."
He slipped his hands into his pockets and turned to leave.
He had taken only a few steps when Angelita's fingers caught the sleeve of his suit.
"A-actually…" she began, the word small and hesitant.
Donovan stopped.
"Those who trained the students are supposed to be present," she said, her voice growing quieter with each syllable.
He turned his head slowly toward her.
"Huh?"
Angelita offered him an awkward, sheepish smile, her eyes briefly avoiding his.
"Y-yeah… I only found out yesterday."
She lifted one hand and rubbed the back of her head.
For a moment, Donovan simply looked at her. Then he raised two fingers to the bridge of his nose and exhaled a quiet sigh.
"I don't see the point of this, unless—"
"What do you mean?" Angelita asked, tilting her head.
Donovan's attention drifted toward the academy entrance. Students continued to pass through the gates, unaware of the brief exchange taking place at the edge of the courtyard.
Another soft sigh left him.
"Fine. I'll go with you."
Angelita's face brightened at once.
"Really? Thank you, Donovan!"
Before he could answer, she turned and walked toward the entrance, her steps lighter than they had been all morning.
Donovan remained where he was.
He stood with his hands still in his pockets, gaze fixed on the academy doors. Around him, the courtyard continued its ordinary rhythm—voices, footsteps, the faint rustle of uniforms—yet something within that rhythm had shifted.
A subtle distortion brushed against the edge of his perception.
A spacetime user.
The awareness settled in his mind without altering his expression in the slightest.
I can sense one here.
His eyes lingered on the entrance a moment longer.
Very well. Let's see the true reason behind the invitation extended to these students.
Without another word, Donovan stepped forward and passed through the gates, following Angelita inside.