Dicarthen Academy. It might just be the perfect educational institute for aristocrats and aristobrats alike—arrogant boys and girls alike who are overly narcisstic due to their position as the esteemed daughter or son of a Noble house.
Francés. The country of origin. Francés is a nation renowned for its rich history, sophisticated culture, and breathtaking landscapes, it boasts grand cities with elegant architecture, charming countryside villages, and a deep appreciation for art, philosophy, and gastronomy.
Its capital, Lumière, is a hub of fashion, literature, and political influence, while the nation itself is divided into diverse regions, from rolling vineyards to coastal rivieras.
Francés has a complex yet proud history of revolutions, monarchy, and republics, shaping its national identity around ideals of liberty, romance, and refinement. Its people are known for their passion, wit, and deep-rooted traditions in cuisine and the arts.
You might ask, what am I doing in such a large city all by myself at a school meant for aristobrats—as a commoner.
I'm not an ordinary student. I'm here to find someone.
Marienne Whitmore—my blood-related twin sister who went missing at this Academy, although we're twins, she was a prodigy and skipped a year ahead to enroll in Dicarthen, promising a promising future for the Whitmore lineage. Perhaps her being the prodigy led to her disappearance.
If only she'd not skipped a year. It's hard not to think like that, but some things are just meant to be.
Marienne suddenly went out of contact and despite the local task force trying their best to find any leads on Marienne, there was no trace left behind; as if her disappearance was plotted by someone with pure perfection.
Whoever that might be, a Great Houses Head or even the Emperor himself...
There's not a line in this world I wouldn't cross for my loved ones.
Here I am, in the greatest nation, in the greatest city of all time—the beginning of something grand. Dicarthen Academy, a new start.
I enrolled as a freshmen with a 890/1000 score on the entrance exam. I scored just an A and got in the elite class along with other aristocrats. If I had scored just some marks less—I would be rotting in the lower-class section and wouldn't be able to use my freedom to investigate the Great Houses.
All my actions, my movements—they're aimed to find clues about Marienne.
Although I'm currently doubting myself at this very juncture. An attendance of at least 1,000 students. They were all freshmen. I knew Dicarthen was popular, but these many elites gathered in one institution? But again, there are commoners like myself who got in by merit.
It's usually a tradition in schools that the highest scoring freshmen is usually the representative of the freshmen, gaining a status higher then other freshmen.
That person would be this white-haired girl with red robes, Snowflake Everhart. From the Everhart House. A noble house known for only having one daughter, coming from a family of travellers.
Nowadays, this hefty thing, a "book" can really benefit everyone.
I'm not much of a reader, but free information on all the Great and Elite Houses along with their respective Heads? Count me in.
Anyway, this representative has to present a speech infront of all the freshmen and be a role model for them. Sounds tiring.
However, her soft and soothing voice made the obviously boring motivational speech music to the ears of many boys' and girls' alike.
I bet she'll be popular with her features. Long white hair with a hint of red, a not-so-overly vigourous but balanced body, good facial features and bottom.
The kind of sheltered young noble lady that many would kill to marry.
Snowflake Everhart: "...I believe, that if we all continue to work together, we can make Dicarthen an educational institute where even commoners can be treated equally as people of a higher status, and make this school a place where your status does not matter and everyone is awarded by their achievements..."
I bet this is at least the fifteenth time they've recycled the same speech, that exact same line.
How can one expect to make this school, a place meant for aristocrats as a haven for commoners like us—it doesn't make any sense.
In the end, the commoners will be bullied and oppressed by the elite. All this bullshit won't matter.
As Snowflake Everhart's speech ended, everyone stood up to clap in an enjoined manner as the hall burst out with sounds of clapping. Indeed, even if the school used the same speech, some people just have that ability to make even a boring speech interesting—and you are that person, Snowflake.
The way you compose yourself, the way you fiddle with your hair after each line, the capacity to mentally revise the speech instead of relying on a paper clearly defines your hardwork and mentality—you really are an interesting person.
I wonder what kind of secrets you have, or if you're connected to Marienne. If your family knows something, I wanna know. I'm curious about you.
That sounds a tad bit creepy.
The grand hall brimmed with good-looking, mostly noble aristocrats, their uniforms were adorned with family crests, but I could only see some common crests. Chandeliers cast a golden glow over the hall. Instructors stood at the front, watching the sea of expectant gazes.
Seeing this sea of aristocrats, I thought to myself.
I'd best pick my friends carefully. The kind of beneficial friends that can use their power to help me in a pinch.
Although...
Misha: [Fiddling her hair] "Which class are you in, Castor?"
Bonde-haired pony-tailed girl with decent facial features. This person was Misha Caleb, one of my best friends.
As the speech ended, everyone had an hour of free time before their first lesson began so everybody started talking to their friends or explored the school, and so here I was.
Castor: "I'm in Class 1-A. What about you, Misha and Ethan?"
I pointed out the other person standing next to Misha Caleb. A head taller then me, brown-haired good-looking Ethan Walker. My best friend.
Ethan: [disappointedly] "I'm in Class 1-B... I think they just decided our classes based on our grade in the entrance exam."
Misha: [with a slight grin] "I'm in Class 1-B too. Looks like you've been left behind, Castor."
If that really is the category for deciding our classes—aren't you the ones left behind?
Castor: [arrogantly] "Not my fault I got an A grade. You should've studied harder."
Misha and Ethan booed, as if they just hated the idea of studying, which I guess was true in their case.
Of course, I didn't have time to just goof around and hang out with these two losers who I'd been best friends with since middle school. I'm not the same person I was since then.
Although I am the same emotionally and physically, I have someone I wanna find—so, I can't afford to make any mistakes.
Of course, they don't know anything about it because if Marienne's disappearance is really related to a greater plot, then I don't wanna get them involved since I do care about them.
Castor: "The classes are just a formality for some lessons. Most of our other lessons will be enjoined."
They both looked confused as if they did not have the slightest idea of what I was talking about, which was true for the most part as they obviously did not bother to read the school instructions manual.
We continued our conversation, talking about the academy.
Misha: [curiously] "Hey, how'd you like her speech, then?"
She was talking about Snowflake Everhart.
Ethan: [confidently] "I think I really liked it. She has a certain charm not most people have. I'm sure she'll be popular once everybody gets to know each other."
Castor: [critically] "We're in no position to criticize her if her speech wasn't to our liking—none of us would've done better anyway."
Although it might seem harsh, that was the bitter truth which both Ethan and Misha agreed to.
Misha: [making herself clear] "No, I'm not saying we should criticize her—it's just you know, I've never seen somebody so perfect it makes me think there's some facade behind her perfectness."
It's true. Nobody was perfect. Even if it was Snowflake Everhart, she definitely had secrets that the world she knew wouldn't understand.
Everybody has something they want to hide.
We talked a bit more before the bell rang and time for our first class began.
On my way, I couldn't help but notice how this Academy nailed that old-school vintage look. The Grand Hall is a huge, elegant room with tall stone columns and a high ceiling decorated with chandeliers. Long wooden tables fill the space, where students sit for meals and gatherings. At the front, an elevated platform holds the headmaster's seat, with a massive stained-glass window behind it, casting colorful light across the hall. The walls are lined with large portraits of past scholars, their eyes seeming to watch over the students. A giant fireplace at one end keeps the room warm, while the scent of old wood, candle wax, and parchment fills the air. The hall feels grand but strict, reminding everyone of the academy's deep traditions.
At Dicarthen, there were six core subjects:
1. Classical Literature & Philosophy – Students study works by Shakespeare, Milton, and Greek philosophers. They write essays with quill pens, debating morality and ethics.
2. Mathematics & Arithmetic – Taught on large chalkboards, focusing on algebra, geometry, and practical accounting skills for the wealthy elite.
3. Natural Sciences – Lessons cover biology, chemistry (often called "natural philosophy"), and astronomy, with demonstrations using primitive microscopes and telescopes.
4. History & Politics – Heavy focus on the British Empire, Roman history, and world affairs, with an emphasis on discipline and patriotism.
5. Latin & Other Languages – Latin is mandatory, with some learning Greek or French, especially for diplomacy or law careers.
6. Etiquette & Rhetoric – Students practice public speaking, letter writing, and social manners, essential for high society.
My first class just so happened to be History. As I was heading to my first class, I managed to run into what I expected would happen later on. Two elite aristocratic students bullying a commoner—so much for equality.
Of course, as a commoner myself, I'd prefer not to interfere as long as it didn't get violent. I could barely hear them from my distance.
Mysterious Boy: "...What'd you say, goddamnit?!"
A punch to the face followed right after that statement. An arrogant young man who seemed to be from one of the Great Houses punched a mere commoner. And his goons stood there stomping on his face as he lied helplessly.
Before I knew it, I was lost in thought for a mere second, I peeked over to see some familiar and feminine voices coming from there.
"Oh," I murmured to myself as I saw what was happening. The rumoured student council president, the perfect yet friendly lady of the Helios house, The brash warriors, who value strength over status. They have a lineage of warriors and I suppose being the only daughter is a burden to their family name, but from the way I've seen Ovari Helios—the student council president act, it doesn't seem like she gets mistreated.
She fights for justice. From what I knew, the student council had three prominent members: the president, Ovari Helios, the vice-president, Stella Aurelius and the general affairs manager—or, the former general affairs manager because I believe the new general affairs manager is none other then Snowflake Everhart.
That's a freshmen representative right there. Already in the student council.
Ovari Helios: "Cassius Veldane, this will be your final warning. You've already caused too much trouble to us. You have no business meddling with the freshmen."
Cassius Veldane, huh? Seems like a familiar name, and he's a year older I believe. I've always thought about people or students I need to interact with in order to find clues about Marienne.
The most logical choice were the current seniors, who were in their second year since they would've been in the same year as Marienne.
Cassius Veldane fits that category. Although I hate people like him, he might be an easy target.
Anyway, my business here was done. I don't know why I spaced out but I'm glad I didn't hurt them in any way. They'll be dealt with now.
I naturally inserted myself onto the scene as if I was just a passerby, none of them paid any attention to me except one girl—Snowflake Everhart.
You turned your head to look at me, and I could see you form a small smile on your face.
Just who are you?
I reached my first class just in time. History & Politics. It was a section-class which meant only Grade A students would be present here. I could already feel the eluding aura once I entered the room.
The classroom was spacious yet orderly, lined with wooden desks arranged in neat rows. Large windows let in natural light, casting soft shadows on the polished floor. Shelves filled with books and scrolls lined the walls, while a grand blackboard stood at the front, waiting for the instructor's lesson.
I took a seat on the last row in the far back to avoid as much socializing as possible—me, being a mere commoner would obviously be a target for bullying being in a Grade A class with all these aristobrats.
I would prefer to just watch over here. As we patiently waited for the lesson to start, more and more students entered the class all with a smug and arrogant look on their face, with most of them looking at me sitting in the far back.
The row I was in with was pretty much empty, until, I saw a girl—long purple hair, a cold expression that seemed like she was unbothered by anything and nonchalant. She was a beauty.
Just her entering the room and her fragrance attracted everyone towards her—almost perfect facial features matched with a balanced body. Who was she? And not to mention, she sat in the same row as me maintaining her distance.
Do you like to watch over others too?
Are you also the type that avoids socializing with people?
Before I had the time to talk to you, a man in his 30s with curly hair and a well-toned beard entered the room, likely our professor for this subject. He put the large, old and rusty book on the table and extended his arms and took a good look at everyone before coming forward.
Professor Jonathon: [adjusting his brown coat, his sharp gaze sweeping over the students] "Welcome to History & Politics. My name is Jonathon. But that's Professor Jonathon to you. Some of you may see this as a dull subject—endless wars, treaties, and rulers long gone. But let me make this clear: history is not just the past. It is a weapon, a lesson, and for those who wield it well, a key to power."
He was confident in the way he spoke, the way he carried himself. He clearly had that "friendly" teacher vibe.
Student 1: [leaning back with arms crossed] "So, you're saying knowing who won a war centuries ago will help us now?"
Of course it won't, dumbass.
Professor Jonathon: [chuckles] "Knowing why they won, and why others lost, will. Empires don't fall in a day, nor do they rise by chance. The same mistakes repeat across time—those who recognize them can change the game before others even know they're playing."
I'm sure I'll run into a situation where I have to lead an army of a hundred thousand men to war against Moscow.
Student 2: [raising a hand] "Will we only study monarchs and wars, or do we cover modern politics too?"
Professor Jonathon: "Both. The foundation of today's world was laid by rulers of the past. You will learn about the strategies of emperors, the collapse of nations, and the rise of ideologies—because whether it's a battlefield or a council chamber, power follows the same rules."
Student 3: [thoughtful] "So… history isn't just about the past. It's about control."
Professor Jonathon: [smirks] "Now you're beginning to understand."
At this point, it was evident he was beginning to catch the interest of many students'. I couldn't focus on his class because of the beauty sitting right in my row.
It wasn't her beauty that attracted me towards her—it was the way she looked at people, as if she knew something everyone else didn't.
Even now she didn't bother to ask any questions and carried on with her work, fiddling her hair in the process. I made sure I wouldn't look creepy watching her so I maintained my distance.
As the first class of the day ended, evetyone quickly exited the hall commenting on the Professor's brilliant teaching style and acknowledging him.
I could already see the Professor's satisfied look. When I looked at him, his eyes met with mine and he formed a smile.
Castor: "...What a faker."
...Oh.
Castor: "I'm really sorry."
As I was busy in making a comment on the Professor's fake smile, I accidentally bumped into that same girl I was admiring. The books she carried fell onto the floor. I quickly crouched down and swiftly picked up all the books that had dropped and handed them to her.
Mysterious Girl: "Thank you."
You expressed your gratitude. Although it was my fault for bumping into you, you didn't blame me, you didn't flex your status or show your arrogance like the others would have. In return, you expressed your gratitude as I helped you.
And I learned your name thanks to the name tag on your notebook.
—Isla Vritra.
It didn't take me any research to figure out who you exactly were. There wouldn't be a person in Francés, even if he was a tourist, who wouldn't know the Vritra household.
In the Great Houses, the Vritra house was the strongest house and the most influential. They produced geniuses, prodigies and future rulers of the nation. The king and queen are usually from the Great Houses and for centuries now, they belonged to the Vritra household until this time—where the king was a full-fledged Aurelius.
The Great House Aurelius. It is said to be equally comparable to House Vritra in power. The school's golden royals, descendants of kings and queens. They act untouchable but are hiding a centuries-old scandal.
Even the vice-president, Stella Aurelius belonged to that house.
The point still remained that the Vritra household was extremely wealthy and powerful. If that was the case—then why wasn't Isla the freshmen representative?
Given her status, even if she got a D grade, Dicarthen would still present her as the freshmen representative. Normally, a person of such caliber would be a celebrity. So why was she, so lonely?
She looked lost. As if she had no interest in anything. Apart from her beauty which attracted people, not many dared to approach her.
Were they scared of her? Or is it just her status as a Vritra that scares off people?
In any case, I want to show my gratitude to you, Professor Jonathon, if I didn't comment on your fake smile, I wouldn't have bumped into her today and would've not learnt her name.
As the day progressed, I attended all the lessons ranging from Latin to Etiquettes. Rags to riches. Aristocrats and Aristobrats—I saw it all. Friendly professors or cold and arrogant professors, there wasn't a limit.
Castor: "...I'm beat."
I complained, yawning as I felt increasingly tired after the long day. I hadn't seen Misha and Ethan since the morning and none of our classes were enjoined. I didn't see Snowflake for that matter, not that we're friends but I half-expected to see her.
Well, since I found myself strangely free, it was time for my very own "investigation."
I told myself I came here to find Marienne, but before I knew it, I started to blend in as an ordinary student.
I walked through the grand hall, my eyes scanning the towering chandeliers and the intricate marblework lining the walls. Everything about this place screamed wealth—polished floors that reflected the golden light, tapestries embroidered with family crests, and students draped in uniforms that were tailored to perfection. Nobility had a way of making even a school feel like a palace.
Clusters of aristocrats stood around, chatting in hushed tones, their expressions always measured, always calculating. They laughed at just the right moments, spoke with a practiced elegance, and carried themselves as if the world already belonged to them. Maybe for some of them, it did.
I stepped past a pair of students arguing over whose family had closer ties to the royal court—something that seemed to matter a great deal here. Beyond the hall, the garden came into view, its perfectly trimmed hedges and vibrant flowers creating a picturesque scene straight out of a painting. Further ahead, the club buildings stood tall, where students gathered to hone their skills—whether in swordsmanship or diplomacy.
It was a place of opportunity, or at least that's what they claimed. To me, it was a place where power shifted hands behind closed doors, where names and bloodlines mattered more than talent. But that was just how this world worked. And if I was going to survive here, I'd have to play along.
And then, I saw you. Cassius Veldane. My first victim in my investigation to find clues about Marienne.
You struggled with your locker; if I had to say, it was locked. You tried everything, from trying your locker key or banging or kicking it.
Cassius Veldane: [gritting his teeth, fumbling with the lock] "Damn thing… useless piece of junk." [He kicks the locker lightly, frustration clear in his expression.]
Perfect opportunity to casually insert myself onto the scene.
Castor: [resting by the lockers] "Are you having trouble, Senior Veldane?"
Cassius: [snaps his head toward Castor, scowling] "What do you want?"
Castor: [shrugging] "Just admiring the great Cassius Veldane losing a battle with a locker. A rare sight."
Cassius: [huffs] "Tch. Mind your own business."
Castor: [grins, tapping the lock] "Let me guess. You forgot the combination?"
Cassius: [crosses his arms] "Obviously not. It's jammed."
Castor: [mocking curiosity] "Hmm. You sure? Because I'd expect a noble like you to at least be able to open a simple locker."
Cassius: [glares] "Are you going to help or just stand there running your mouth?"
Castor: [chuckles, then swiftly turns the lock a few times and pops it open] "There. Not so hard, was it?"
Cassius: [snatches the locker open, still scowling but clearly relieved] "Hmph. Don't think this means I owe you."
Castor: [smirks, watching him closely] "Of course not. On that note, that was quite the ordeal you caused this morning. What happened?"
Cassius: [dumbfounded] "Huh, you were watching? Are you some kind of stalker?"
Rude. But I'll let it slide for Marienne's sake.
Castor: [with a poker face] "Just passing by."
Cassius didn't buy it, he might've been arrogant and all—but he wasn't dumb.
Cassius: [closes his locker and completely ignores Castor] "Stay out of it. Don't try to get involved."
Shit, I have to stir the pot.
Castor: "...That commoner you were bullying, did you know the president has a crush on him?"
Cassius stopped in his tracks, as if he heard something really unexpected or unbelievable. A commoner being crushed on by a noble student council president? Yeah well, it was all bullshit too. I couldn't let this chance slip by.
Cassius: [clearly not buying it] "Are you tryna make some kinda joke? The fuck's your deal? A commoner and that Ovari Helios? You clearly don't know your shit."
I expected that reaction.
Castor: [confidently] "I know its my first day here but I know about this school more then you might think. My sister used to be friends with the president, she would often tell me about this academy so that's where I learnt of this rumour. Seeing her step in for that commoner only proved it."
Although my story wasn't completely made-up, it sounded pretty convincing and I could tell Cassius was clearly biting.
Cassius: [lost in thought] "Your sister? What's your name, commoner?"
Booyah.
Castor: [politely] "Castor Whitmore."
Upon hearing my name, Cassius' eyes were shot wide open as if he came to a quick conclusion. Of course, I was the brother of that prodigy Marienne Whitmore. Since Cassius studied with her, he recognized that last name.
Cassius: [slightly chuckling] "Ha... you're that slut's brother?"
Slut? Fuck you.
Castor: [hiding his anger] "She disappeared just some months ago. Do you know anything about it?"
Cassius had a smug grin on his face.
Cassius: [amusement] "Of course, that whore, Marienne—always acting like she was a step ahead despite being a commoner. No wonder I felt the same vibe I felt from her. She was nosey and tried to get involved in our shit and paid the price, stupid scum. And now her dear brother's here to find clues about her disappearance—"
Castor: [in a more colder tone] "Take that back."
Before I knew it, rage overtook me. I grabbed him by the collar and slammed him to his locker.
Cassius: [gritted teeth] "Tch—what the hell is your problem?"
Castor: [voice low, controlled, but seething] "Say that again."
He shoved at my arm, but I didn't budge. Fury curled in my gut, hot and unwavering. He didn't even hesitate to speak about her like that, as if she were nothing—just another stain to be wiped away.
Cassius snarled and swung at me, aiming for my jaw. I saw it coming, ducking just in time, but he used the moment to break free, pushing me back a step. He came at me fast, throwing another punch, but I caught his wrist and twisted, forcing him to his knees with a sharp gasp of pain.
Cassius: [hissing] "Bastard—!"
Castor: [leaning down, voice deadly calm] "If you know anything about Marienne, you're going to tell me. Now."
Cassius snarled and pushed back with all his strength, breaking free from my grip. He staggered to his feet, rubbing his wrist, his glare sharp with fury and humiliation.
Cassius: [spitting out his words] "You're really this worked up over her? Please. Marienne was weak. If she's dead, it's because she deserved it."
Silence.
I didn't move. I didn't react. I just stared at him, my expression blank, my pupils dark and empty.
If she deserved to die, then people like you also deserve to die, don't they?