A firm, confident knock on my door tore my attention away from my phone. "Coming!" I called, curiosity flickering, my mind branched wondering who it could be. I've only just arrived so, not a single soul should know of me. Unless perhaps...?
I eased the door open, my gaze meeting a tower—no, a man. He was massive, his muscular frame dwarfing my own lean body. His pitch-black hair was cut into a sharp military style. A long white coat hung from his broad shoulders, struggling to contain his sizeable form, resembling a lab coat. However, his rugged appearance didn't quite fit the bill of a scientist. A lit cigarette rested between his lips, a thin trail of smoke curling upwards.
"You Caelus?" he asked, voice deep and slightly intimidating as he flicked ash from the end of his cigarette.
"That's me," I confirmed, keeping the door partly closed as a barrier between the two of us. "Who are you, sir?"
"Name's Damien Knight," He replied, throwing his cigarette away into a nearby rubbish bin with practiced ease. "Headmaster of Mythoria." He paused, sharp eyes fixed on me. "Mind letting an old man in?" Reluctantly, I stepped back, allowing him to enter.
"It's a pleasure to officially meet you, transfer kid." he said as he stepped into the room, which seemed too small for him, his sharp eyes scanning the room.
"How did you know to come right now..." I asked, confusion colouring my words. I had only one guess. "I literally just got here..." I muttered under my breath.
"I got a call from your Guardian," He answered, I thought so— Michael, huh. I bet Gabriel's grumbling about how it should've been him instead.
"Oh I see, Michael contacted you, then?"
Damien nodded, "I didn't know someone like Michael was taking care of a little brat." His eyes glimmered for a brief moment, the smallest hint of interest hidden behind their dead grey colouration.
I can assume that Michael wasn't known on earth for being an angel, so I figured he'd taken on a human identity and generated a powerful background for himself. Maybe he's made himself an influential figure around the world, or perhaps just some rich noble? Either way, he'd be hidden in plain sight—someone who could move through the world and influence it without being recognised for who he truly his.
I had to admit, despite his laid back attitude, Michael was incredibly cunning and intuitive.
"He took me in recently on account of my regalia." I lied, carefully keeping my tone neutral. I didn't want to reveal too much, a single misstep could out myself and damage Michael's well-built façade.
"Yes, he told me about that," he recalled, rubbing the short hair of his beard thoughtfully. "Self-Regeneration," he muttered, his voice laced with subtle intrigue. "Quite the interesting concept for a regalia." He finished, honestly.
"You know, when I first heard about the transfer student, I was going to deny them immediately," he started, the sudden change in topic catching me off guard. "But then, Michael began to vogue for you, and my curiosities only began to grow."
"Mythoria is an academy that strictly enforces its rules," he continued, "A student sending an application two weeks into the first term— it was unheard of. But Michael, he was so insistent, freakishly so. He's never usually so tenacious. He told me if I passed up on you as a student, I'd regret it gravely." A smile that didn't quite reach his eyes carved its way onto his otherwise serious face. "The way he talked about you... I could've sworn you were some kind of deity."
I chocked, the accuracy of his words being scarily dangerous, "Michael thinks that highly of me?" I replied quickly, trying to play off my reaction with a forced chuckle.
"Apparently so..." he muttered, his gaze drifting off into the distance, as if he weren't in the room with me at that moment, lost somewhere else in his mind, trapped in the twisting depths of thought.
"So, Mr. Knight?" I asked.
"Call me Damien." he corrected, his tone casual but firm as he returned from thought.
"So, Mr Damien." I started, catching a defeated sigh from the burly headmaster, "When do I start classes and, when do I get a timetable?" I finished, listing the two biggest curiosities polluting my mind.
His dull expression sparked for a short moment, as if a memory resurfaced. "Thanks for reminding me, kid." he said, shuffling through one of the pockets of his coat before pulling out a folded piece of paper and handing it to me. "That right there is your lesson timetable. You've been place in homeroom 1-B under Miss Elara Avonhart."
I scurried to unfold the paper, eager to see my future classes, "Regalia practical training, History of monsters, Theory of regalia and monsters..." I read aloud, scanning over the subjects. These definitely weren't the conventional classes from my old world, but even so, the names alone felt far more exhilarating.
"You wont be attending class tomorrow so, your first official day will be Tuesday." Damien revealed, a portion of my excitement faded, replaced by impatience and a growing eagerness to finally start at the school. The wait was unbearable, my mind raced with the possible interactions waiting just around the corner.
"Why am I missing out?" I asked, disappointment clear in my voice.
Damien smirked, "You don't see kids complaining about missing school often these days." He teased, not giving me a straight answer.
"Woah, kid! Relax, you tryna kill me with that gaze?" He remarked, his voice sharp. It was only then I realised the murderous look I had unknowingly let slip, and I quickly softened my expression, feeling a bit embarrassed.
"You missing tomorrow is necessary. We need to do your Mana test." he finally answered, though I have no clue what a Mana test is. It certainly didn't sound like any of the tests I was familiar with in my world.
Not like my school knowledge is the best, though...