The dormitory complex was divided into two sections—one for males and one for females. It was just past noon when I, Mandane, arrived at my dorm room to drop off my suitcase and belongings.
The first class of the day was titled "Getting to Know Each Other." Since this school was brand new, and all of us were attending for the first time, it made sense that they wanted us to familiarize ourselves with one another and explore the campus.
After setting my things down, I stepped out of my room and locked the door behind me. At the same time, the girl in the dorm across from mine exited as well. I recognized her instantly—Zephyrine Adelman. A Dutch girl. One of the female soldiers Sansula was close with.
We entered the elevator together.
"Hi!" She turned to face me, bright-eyed.
"Hello," I replied, keeping my gaze ahead.
"I think we're in the same class," she said. "Mandane, right?"
"Yeah." I wasn't surprised. She must have checked the student directory. "And you are...?"
"Zephyrine Adelman," she introduced herself with a smile. "Nice to meet you!"
"Likewise."
Adelman... That name carried weight. She is the Prime Minister's daughter. I didn't compare to her. Nor to Maria.
As we walked toward the classroom, she continued, "So, Mandane, do you already know anyone here?"
I hesitated. Of course, I was acquainted with Maeve, Sansula, and my sisters, but I didn't feel like sharing that.
"Not really," I said instead.
She seemed to have expected that response. "One of our classmates is Her Majesty the Princess herself. Isn't that fun?"
"I guess so."
"I wonder how she ended up in the lowest-ranked class... Wasn't she supposed to be brilliant?"
Before I could respond, we arrived at the classroom.
Inside, six boys and eight girls were already talking amongst themselves. The girls had flocked around Maeve, while Sansula stood with the guys, engaged in conversation.
"We have twenty classmates in total, right?" I asked.
"Yes," Zephyrine confirmed.
With her, myself, and the other eight girls, that made ten of us. Meaning the remaining four students would be male. A perfect 50/50 ratio. But why?
Zephyrine walked toward Maeve and the other girls, slipping effortlessly into their circle. I stayed where I was. My eyes met Maeve's, but neither of us spoke.
Nearby, one of the girls asked, "How did you end up in Class E, Your Highness?"
Maeve looked agitated. "This must be a mistake. I'll sort it out as soon as the teacher arrives."
Another girl gushed, "You're even more beautiful in person than they say..."
Maeve's lips curled into a small smile. "Well, thank you."
I suddenly had the unsettling feeling of being watched. Turning my head, my eyes locked onto Sansula. He wasn't paying attention to the conversation around him—he was staring directly at me.
There was recognition in his gaze. Surprise. Sadness. And something that almost looked like... relief?
I looked away. Whatever existed between us had been severed long ago. He was the one who cut me off. He was also the one who slept with my sister. I didn't care that Lilith had orchestrated it. He made a conscious choice.
I overheard murmurs from the boys.
"Hey, isn't she kind of cute?"
"Who? They're all cute."
"No, the one with glasses..."
"Huh? I guess she's alright."
"She has a mysterious air about her..."
Before I could react, the classroom door opened, and the homeroom teacher stepped inside.
A tall man. Wheat-toned skin. Dreadlocks tied in a ponytail.
I stiffened. He looked familiar.
Isn't that... Zipporah's husband?
But that didn't make sense. Lilith killed him.
Yet here he stood, alive and well. His features were the same—except for his eyes, which were an unnatural shade of blue, and his hair, which was stark white.
What was going on?
Had he been resurrected? Was he... a homunculus?
The man clapped his hands against the desk, his energy unsettling. "Good morning, my lovely students!" he greeted, beaming. "My name is Yeshaya Badila, and I'll be your homeroom teacher from today onward!"
I exchanged glances with Maeve.
She looked pale with terror.
Yet, strangely enough, Sansula remained composed.
How... odd.