Mikhail stepped out of the room and back down the dormitory hallway. The midday sunlight filtered through the tall windows along the corridor, falling softly onto the stone floor, warm and real, too normal compared to what he had just experienced.
With slow steps, Mikhail headed toward his room.
But right in front of the door, he saw two familiar figures.
Rev stood casually in the hallway, his face bright as usual, talking to Ivan. Ivan stood beside him shyly, his shoulders slightly slumped, his hands clasped together, nothing had changed about him.
Is their practice over? Mikhail thought.
He frowned slightly. It feels like I've been there forever…
"Hey, Mikhail," Rev greeted cheerfully, waving.
Mikhail flinched slightly. "Oh… you're back?"
Rev laughed lightly. "Not yet. We were just about to leave."
Ivan glanced at Mikhail, then nodded slightly.
"You're not sleeping?" Rev asked again. "Ivan and I are going to practice archery. Are you want to join with us?"
He smiled broadly. "I even waited a few minutes in front of Ivan's room, as promised," he said with a chuckle.
Mikhail fell silent.
A few minutes…?
His chest tightened.
Does… time not flow there like it does here? he thought.
The time he had spent behind the painting felt much longer, long enough to shake his mind, long enough to make the world feel unfamiliar. But here, time seemed to pass in a flash.
"Okay," Mikhail finally said.
Rev immediately smiled broadly. "Yes! With one more person, training will be more fun."
Ivan simply nodded slightly, but the corners of his lips turned up slightly.
The three of them walked out of the dormitory. As soon as they passed through the main door, the midday sun greeted them fully. Before them lay a vast garden with neat green grass, bright flowers, and several fountains splashing clear water, sparkling in the sunlight. The atmosphere was serene, beautiful, almost like a tourist spot.
"If I passed by here every day, I'd never get bored," Rev said, stepping back for a moment, staring at the fountains. "It's a shame you can't play in the water."
"You'd jump in right away if you could," Ivan muttered softly.
"Heh, that's called extra swimming practice," Rev replied quickly, laughing to himself.
Mikhail smiled faintly too. His gaze briefly drifted straight ahead, toward a large gate visible in the distance, standing majestic and silent. For some reason, the gate gave him a strange feeling, like something he hadn't yet arrived at.
But they weren't headed there.
Rev turned left. "Come on, the archery range is here."
They walked along the stone path until they reached the archery range. The range was wide and open, with flat ground and several wooden targets neatly lined up in the distance. Several other students were already there, some preparing, others chatting and laughing.
"The farthest target is mine," Rev said confidently.
"You always say that when you talk about your training," Mikhail replied. "But your arrows often miss."
"That's... a strategy," Rev defended himself. "So the targets won't be surprised."
Mikhail chuckled. "Can targets really be surprised?"
Rev thought for a moment, then nodded seriously. "If I were the target, I would be surprised."
Ivan covered his mouth, holding back laughter.
For a moment, Mikhail forgot about the blue hall, the giant statue, and the strange book. A gentle breeze blew, carrying the sounds of laughter and the strumming of bowstrings. The world felt normal again, warm, simple, and full of the sounds of life.
As the training session began, the archery range became more crowded. All levels were allowed to practice in the same area, from new students to those with much more experience. However, there was one level that was rarely seen: the fifth grade. They almost never appeared, and even when they did, their presence always felt distinct.
At the side of the range, Mikhail saw several guards standing watch. He had thought they were just cleaners or gatekeepers, but it turned out to be more than that. The guards also served as trainers, some supervising archery practice, others working in the stables, and still others training fighting techniques. Their faces were calm, but their eyes were sharp, as if not a single movement was overlooked.
A fourth grade student approached the Rev. He was taller, his movements relaxed, and his expression full of confidence.
"Rev," he greeted.
"Eh," the Rev replied lightly.
The student's gaze shifted to Mikhail. "New student?"
"Yes," the Rev answered without hesitation.
"Transferred from another atrium?"
The Rev glanced at Ivan. Ivan immediately shook his head slowly, almost imperceptibly.
"No," Rev finally said.
The fourth-year student frowned. "Then how did you get into third-grade straight away?"
Rev shrugged. "I don't know. It's not important anyway. What's important is that we start training."
He clapped his hands once, as if to end the conversation.
Mikhail stood beside them, listening intently. The words felt like tiny needles pricking his mind. The question was reasonable, and there was also something odd about it. He was well aware that his position here was unusual.
He glanced at Ivan briefly. The boy's face remained calm, too calm.
Ivan has many secrets, Mikhail thought.
Maybe… I'll ask him later.
He took a deep breath, then looked ahead, at the arrow targets lined up in a row. Training may have just begun, but within him, curiosity was already awakening.
Practice was finally over. Mikhail's hands were sore, but there was a small, inexplicable sense of satisfaction. The three of them walked away from the field and sat on the shady grass at the edge of the training area. A gentle afternoon breeze blew, rustling the leaves above their heads. The sun was already setting in the west, its light warm and soft, seeming to soothe the entire atrium.
They were silent for a moment, gazing at the scene before them. The fountain in the distance gleamed golden, and the shadows of tall buildings stretched across the ground.
Suddenly, someone appeared from behind them.
"Hey."
Mikhail turned his head. Eric was standing there, holding several small bottles of water.
Rev narrowed his eyes.
"Hey, I didn't see you at the archery range earlier, Eric."
Eric slumped down on the grass.
"Just trying out riding a horse," he replied curtly.
He held out a few bottles toward them.
"Here. Drink."
Mikhail hesitated, but Rev took one without a second thought.
Rev glanced at Eric with a mischievous smile.
"Why are you so nice today?" he said. "Missed me, huh?"
Eric's expression immediately hardened.
"What the hell," he grumbled.
Rev chuckled.
"just kidding."
Eric snorted and sat closer. Ivan accepted the bottle with both hands, nodding slightly without saying anything. Mikhail opened his slowly and took a sip. The taste was refreshing, cool, and a stark contrast to the exhaustion in his body.
They sat side by side, quietly enjoying the evening breeze and the fading sunlight. There was no training, no rules, no awkward questions, just a simple moment that felt… normal.
Rev lay down on the grass, staring at the sky, which was starting to turn orange.
"It's nice, isn't it," he said casually. "I hope the world stays like this."
He whistled softly, a cheerful tune floating in the afternoon air.
A question suddenly occurred to Mikhail. He hesitated for a moment, then turned to Rev.
"Rev," he said quietly, "you make friends so easily. Why… when you first entered first grade, did you choose me to be your friend?"
Rev stopped whistling. He turned around, then smiled slightly.
"I don't know," he replied casually. "You're unique."
He thought for a moment.
"If I'm not mistaken, there are two unique person. First, you. Second, Leo."
"Leo?" Mikhail asked.
"Yes," Rev said. "He's a good listener. As for you… you're often alone. Even now, I don't really understand why you're like that."
Mikhail fell silent.
That's true, he muttered to himself. I'm too closed off.
Rev suddenly sat up half-way.
"But wait a minute," he said. "Why are you only asking me? Eric often talks to you too, right? Why don't you ask him too?"
As soon as his name was called, Eric, who was drinking, immediately turned his head toward them.
"Huh?" he said curtly.
Eric stared at them both for a few seconds. His face remained impassive, as usual.
"What the heck," he said casually. "Why even bring that up?"
He took another sip of his drink, then looked away.
"Besides… friends are just friends. No need for weird excuses."
Rev grinned. "That's a pretty safe answer."
Eric snorted softly. "Yeah, let it be."
Mikhail smiled faintly. That answer didn't really answer anything… but somehow it felt honest, in its own way.
Ivan, who had been silent all this time, turned his water bottle slowly in his hand. He stared at the liquid inside, then looked up at Mikhail. His gaze was hesitant, as if he were weighing something in his mind.
"…I think," Ivan finally said, his voice low but clear enough, "that's enough."
All three turned to him.
Ivan flinched slightly, then quickly looked down. "I mean… Eric is just like that. He doesn't talk much about things like that."
Eric glanced at him briefly. "You know a lot," he said dryly.
Ivan gave him a small, almost imperceptible smile. "I… often observe."
Rev chuckled. "I knew it. You're a unique person, Ivan. Ivan, the professional observer."
Ivan shook his head slowly. "Not an observer," he said softly. "I just… don't like talking unnecessarily."
Rev suddenly sat up straight. His eyes lit up, as if he'd just had a ridiculous idea.
"Then," he said cheerfully, "should I give you guys nicknames?"
Mikhail turned around in surprise. Eric sighed softly.
"Here they are," Eric muttered.
Rev pointed to each of them. "Mikhail the loner. Ivan the observer. Eric the thinker."
He paused, then touched his chin. "Hmmm… what about me?"
For some reason, the three of them stared at each other for a moment. No one spoke. But their thoughts seemed to converge on the same point.
"Clown."
The answer came almost simultaneously.
Rev blinked. "Clown?"
Then, a second later, he burst out laughing. A laugh that was free, loud, and honest.
Mikhail laughed too, followed by Eric, who tried to hold it in but eventually gave in. Even Ivan—usually quiet and shy—covered his mouth with a chuckle, his eyes narrowing in amusement.
"Heh… that makes sense," Rev said through his laughter. "A clown and his friends."
He lay back down on the grass. "This would make a good story. A story about a clown and his friends."
They fell silent, enjoying the slowly descending dusk. The sky was golden orange, a gentle breeze blew, and for a moment, the world felt simple, without mystery, without fear.
Just laughter, the evening, and togetherness. And in the distance, the shadows of the atrium slowly lengthened, as if to remind them that this tranquility was real, but not forever.