"Ack—"
I hit the floor again.
Six days. Six consecutive, humiliating mornings of losing a fight against gravity and falling. At this point, the ground and I were on a first-name basis.
"Lord Atlas, are you alright."
Not a shred of concern behind her voice.
I pushed myself up with what dignity I had left. "Yes, Ivara."
Apparently, she wasn't just a maid. She was his maid. The previous Atlas's maid.
Which raised several deeply uncomfortable questions, chief among them: does she know I'm not him?
'Wasn't Atlas a pervert, basically? I mean, only for the villainess, I think, but that still counts.'
It had been a week.
A whole week of carefully avoiding the male leads.
Even Rowan.
Thankfully, they were so popular it bordered on absurd. There was always someone around them: admirers, opportunists, future political alliances. The only reason I'd been near them on the first day was pure chaos.
Shock value is a powerful thing!
Also, they were all at that age.
Eighteen.
Old enough to be thrown into political marriages to better up their families.
How distasteful.
As I stepped out into the corridor, someone tapped my shoulder.
"Lord Esso, good morning."
"Good morning, Lord Atlas." He beamed.
Right. Him.
My only friend.
Which sounded sad, and it was, but in my defense, everyone else either avoided me or watched me like I might start performing tricks for their entertainment.
I leaned slightly toward the latter.
"Today we're finally doing practical training," he said, practically vibrating with excitement. "What do you think Professor Sylsima has planned? Do you think you'll be able to participate?"
"Lord Esso," I sighed, "that's a difficult question. She didn't even let me do the basic energy assessment. I've spent the past week as a highly decorative observer."
My heart thudded unpleasantly.
The principal still hadn't returned.
Which meant my fate was still… pending.
Horrifying.
"Yeah, but they can't just bench you forever," he said. "Eventually, they'll make you do something."
…He had a point.
Unfortunately.
***
After making several poor life choices involving sweets, I found myself standing on the training field.
How did it always come to this?
"Today," Professor Sylsima began, her voice cutting cleanly through the chatter, "we will begin practicing control over your kinetic energy."
A collective shift rippled through the students. Some were excited, others unnerved.
"Before you can wield your attributes effectively," she continued, "you must understand how to gather, shape, and release energy at varying speeds and strengths."
She raised her hand.
Water gathered instantly, no, not gathered. It responded. It coiled around her arm like it had been waiting for permission to exist.
"Observe."
The water compressed.
Tight. Dense. Controlled.
Then—
A sharp flick.
The projectile shot forward and shattered a wooden target across the field. Splinters exploded outward.
A few students gasped.
Professor Sylsima didn't even blink.
"This was a moderate output," she said calmly. "Now, reduced strength."
Again, water formed. This time looser, softer.
She released it.
The target wobbled but didn't break.
"And increased speed."
The next shot was nearly invisible.
The target didn't shatter.
It disintegrated.
Silence.
Right.
So that's the level we're aiming for.
"Begin."
And just like that, the illusion of competence collapsed.
Water splashed uselessly. Fire sputtered like embarrassed candles. Air currents veered off like they had personal grudges. Someone accidentally launched dirt into their own face.
I leaned against a post in the back, arms crossed.
Ah yes. Excellence.
To be fair, it wasn't easy. Gathering energy required focus, control, and, most importantly, understanding.
Which, apparently, most of them did not have.
I watched as another student's attack fizzled out halfway.
'Damn, this sight is low-key tragic.'
But then, light bloomed.
It wasn't violent or loudly, but surprisingly clean and controlled.
Ah.
There it is.
Elinor didn't step forward like the others had. He simply was there, as if the space adjusted itself to accommodate him. No wasted movement, no hesitation.
'Flashy bastard.'
Light gathered in his palm, not in a chaotic flare, but in layered strands, thin as threads, weaving together with unsettling precision. Air wrapped around it instinctively, refining it, sharpening it. It didn't look like he was trying.
'Well, that's a genius for you. How unfair.'
A faint breeze stirred around him, just enough to lift the edge of his uniform. His expression was quite smug.
Then he released it.
The beam didn't explode outward.
It pierced straight through the wooden target.
'Jesus, what a clean, perfect hole. I wonder if he can pierce someone's skull with that kind of strength.'
There was a pause around him.
Then the whispers started.
And of course they did.
Next.
Rowan stepped into position, rolling his shoulders once like he was preparing for something physical rather than… whatever this was.
He frowned slightly, staring at the ground like it had personally offended him.
'Dude, get this over with already. Do you want to be a male lead candidate or not?!'
On his first attempt, the energy gathered, but unevenly. A chunk of stone formed in his hand, heavy and awkward, before dropping straight down with a dull thud.
A few snickers.
But Rowan's expression didn't change.
If anything, he looked more focused.
He inhaled deeply.
This time, the earth didn't just rise. It compacted. Compressed. Pulled tight under invisible pressure until the rough edges smoothed into something denser, sharper.
He adjusted his stance, grounded himself, literally.
Then he threw it.
The projectile shot forward with a low, solid force and struck the target dead center.
Crack.
A jagged line split across the wood before it broke clean in half.
Rowan exhaled, tension leaving his shoulders as if that outcome had always been inevitable.
Applause followed almost immediately.
Ah yes. The "hard work but still gifted" archetype.
Then the temperature dropped.
Not physically.
But something shifted.
'No need to guess, it's emo Cassian.'
Darkness didn't gather around him the way other elements did. It settled, more or less? Like it had always been there, just unnoticed until now.
It coiled at his fingertips, thick and quiet, swallowing light instead of reflecting it.
'Huh, he didn't even move much.'
Just a slight tilt of his wrist, he released.
The darkness shot forward. It wasn't particularly fast or slow.
When it hit the target, there was no impact sound.
No crack.
No explosion.
The wood simply… folded inward, collapsing into itself like it had been erased from the inside out.
A few students instinctively stepped back.
Cassian lowered his hand, already disinterested.
Like it hadn't required any effort worth acknowledging.
Subtle and intimidating but, most importantly, emotionally unavailable!
And finally, fire sparked.
Lucien didn't wait to be watched.
He wanted to be watched.
Flames flickered to life in his palm, bright and alive, but unlike the others, his energy wasn't restrained into something minimal.
It was controlled, but expressive.
He spun the flame once, casually, like he was playing with it. It followed his movement smoothly, responding without resistance.
A grin tugged at his lips.
Then he snapped his fingers forward.
The fire condensed sharply before launching in a concentrated burst.
It hit the target and burned straight through it.
The edges of the hole glowed faintly, charred in a perfect circle.
Lucien tilted his head, clearly pleased.
The reaction this time was considerably louder.
'They got to make some useful ally. This dude's at the top of the food chain.'
Suddenly, he shot a nasty side eye at... me?
Honestly, I'm not even surprised anymore.
In my opinion, it's just a setting in their brain to dislike me.
How annoying. I was literally doing nothing wrong and, on top of that, they're also being pampered.
The admiration was practically suffocating.
"They're incredible…"
"Did you see that control?"
"Of course they'd be this good, they all mafisted more than an attribute…"
I exhaled slowly, unimpressed.
'They really are just… male lead material, aren't they.'
Overpowered.
Naturally talented.
Effortlessly cool.
"Lord Atlas."
Ah.
I turned my head.
Professor Sylsima stood beside me.
When did she even...
"Do you plan on sitting here forever," she asked, "or will you participate?"
...?