There is nothing worse than the afternoon halls of Aetherion Academy. Not even the lecture theatres.
At least in class, people had the decency to pretend they were listening.
In these halls, particularly during the afternoon, everything was a performance.
Every student moved in streams between sections of the Academy, their uniforms flashing white, black, and red underneath the filtered daylight pouring through the crystal ceilings. Nobles walked like they were expected to be seen. Commoners either kept their heads down, trying hard not to stare, or overcompensated by behaving louder than they probably felt.
Everywhere and anywhere, there were eyes.
All measuring.
All ranking.
All judging.
Ryn walked beside me with his bag hanging loosely off one shoulder and the expression of a man being walked to his own demise.
"I'm sooooo screwed."
I briefly glanced at him.
"That's a bit dramatic."
"Nooooo. It's accurate."
"No. It's dramatic."
Ryn dragged a hand down his face. "Kael, I don't think you understand. I still haven't picked my electives yet."
I let out a quiet huff through my mouth and adjusted the strap of my backpack.
"Don't worry, you still have time."
"Not enough time."
"Yes, enough time."
"You only say that because your brain went full 'robot' mode and probably picked your electives as soon as you got the forms."
"That's... not really a criticism."
"It should be."
We passed beneath a high arch of polished stone veined with silver runes, the corridor widening into another intersection where students diverged either toward the combat wings, theory halls, and administration offices. Faculty moved like silent threats through the crowd, their robes trailing behind them as if the air itself had been trained not to inconvenience their pace.
Ryn continued muttering to himself.
"Ok. Ok. All I have to do is pick two academic or combat electives, pick one extracurricular, think about your future, shape your 'pathway' or whatever, refine your talent, don't embarrass yourself—"
I looked at him.
"You do know that repeating the rules won't make them disappear, right?"
"Maybe... or maybe me repeating it over and over again will wake me up from this unfortunate nightmare, and when I wake up, I won't be in this situation!"
"... Wow, Ryn. You might have actually gone insane."
Ryn pointed at me without breaking stride.
"You're not helping."
"I am helping," I replied. "I'm telling you not to panic."
"That isn't helpful. That's just you being weirdly calm. As per usual."
I considered that for a moment.
"That could be a fair comment."
Ryn groaned.
"So?" he asked after a beat. "What did you pick?"
I answered without hesitation.
"Composite Casting Theory and Anti-Beast Tactics."
Ryn nodded slowly, as if those choices had been inevitable.
"Yep. Yep. Of course you did."
"Yep, yep, of course I did."
He turned toward me slightly as we continued down the corridor. "And your extracurricular?"
I hesitated.
That made him immediately suspicious.
"You did pick one, right?"
I didn't respond, which seemed to make Ryn burst out laughing
"HAHAHAHA! You haven't picked one either!"
"I didn't say that."
"You paused."
"I was considering my wording."
"That basically means no."
I exhaled quietly.
"I'm… not fully certain yet."
Ryn barked out a laugh. "Oh, now that is rich."
"It is not rich. I would call it... selective uncertainty."
"So, basically, you don't know, but in weird phrasing."
I ignored him.
Ryn looked far too pleased with himself now, which made me even more annoyed.
"So?" I asked, trying not to make the annoyance on my face look obvious. "What are you thinking?"
He shrugged, though the motion was slightly more self-conscious than usual.
"Probably two combat electives."
"I thought you would do that."
"Yeah, well, I'm good at hitting things and moving badly while casting. Might as well refine the only skills that are keeping me alive."
"Seems reasonable."
"I'm thinking Close-Quarter Arcane Combat and Mobile Casting Drills."
'That made sense for Ryn.'
Actually, it suited him almost perfectly. From my understanding, both electives were directly guided, practical, and survival-oriented. It matched Ryn well— a little too well.
"And your extracurricular?" I asked.
Ryn's expression changed into something far too spontaneous to be genuine.
"Hmm, I don't know, maybe Aetheric Culinary Arts."
I stopped walking.
Hysterically.
Enough to make the students behind me manoeuvre around us in mild irritation.
Ryn looked at me and immediately laughed.
"Haha! Oh, that face is priceless."
I stared at him.
"You're picking cooking."
"Yes."
"Ryn Falen."
"Yes."
"You want to actually study cooking."
Ryn folded his arms and lifted his chin with a mocking expression. "I didn't say I wanted to study cooking. I just said I might take it."
"That isn't any different."
"It is to me."
I resumed walking, though more slowly.
"I have never once looked at you and thought, there goes a man who enjoys culinary discipline."
Ryn laughed. "That's because I don't."
"Then why?"
He shrugged.
"Because it sounds funny."
I looked at him.
He elaborated with a grin.
"Come on. Think about it. Me. In a fancy Academy cooking elective. Surrounded by nobles trying to make artistic pastries, while I accidentally burn down a countertop. That's comedy."
"It's also possible you would simply learn to cook."
Ryn made a face. "Dude. Don't ruin the joke by making it virtuous."
"I'm just pointing out the obvious future."
"Well, don't." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "Anyway, I don't care that much about cooking. I just thought it'd be a funny elective to take."
I glanced at him sideways.
"It would."
"Thank you."
Then a voice cut across the corridor, dry with that particular breed of confidence only the mediocre ever seemed to carry.
"Well, well, well. Look who we have here," the voice said, "it's the commoner who embarrassed himself in Professor Naeric's class."
The crowd around them shifted subtly. Not stopping, but slowing down with interest.
Another voice joined in, brighter with cruelty.
"Oh! And he's clinging to that weird commoner who thought all affinities were real."
A few of them laughed.
The kind of laugh that existed purely to make sure other people heard it.
Ryn and I both turned.
There were four of them, all minor nobles by the look of their uniforms and posture, good fabric, inherited confidence, no actual presence. Two boys, two girls, all carrying the refined carelessness of people who had never once feared that a room might decide they didn't belong in it.
The one who'd spoken first was narrow-faced with slick dark hair and the expression of someone who mistook disdain for charisma.
Ryn looked at him for one second and said, utterly flat:
"Wow, colour me impressed. You really practised that one well, didn't you?"
A few nearby students made small noises; there were half-laughs, but all were quickly suppressed.
The noble's mouth tightened.
"What did you say?"
Ryn shrugged.
"I'm just saying, if you're going to interrupt my afternoon with an insult, it should probably be better than one that sounded like it came out of a dustbin drama script."
The noble's face went red.
His companions exchanged glances, one of them already looking less confident now that the typical script had been broken.
I let Ryn speak.
For the moment.
Then, the noble took a step closer.
"You should watch your tone, commoner."
Ryn smiled in a way that guaranteed he would not.
"And you should improve your material."
'Yep. That did it.'