—The Beginning Bell
Crownshade Academy – Dorm C, Room Eleven
Morning.
Aeron sat at the edge of his bed, the morning sunlight slipping past the drawn curtains, brushing faint warmth across his features.
He wore the Crownshade uniform for the first time—its dark blue blazer fit him perfectly, hugging the contours of his lean yet toned figure.
The white shirt beneath added a crisp contrast, and the black trousers were tailored just right—functional and noble.
The academy’s silver-stitched insignia gleamed over his left chest, pulsing faintly with enchantment.
He turned his head, eyes meeting his reflection in the long wall mirror.
Sharp jawline.
Smooth pale skin now with hints of sun-gold from daily training.
Lips neither too thin nor plush, his nose well-shaped, aristocratic.
And his eyes… a piercing gray, calm and stormy both.
This wasn’t the same face he once saw in the broken mirrors of the Blackthorn manor.
Not the same frail child from a ruined lineage.
There was strength now in those eyes.
A hint of something deeper.
A remnant of the soul that had burned across worlds.
Aeron Blackthorn.
Voidbound.
Third life.
But what caught him the most was his looks.
He didn’t look this handsome in either of his past lives.
“At least I’m good for the eyes, huh…”
A faint chuckle left his lips.
He couldn’t bask long in his reflection.
Because then—
RING!…
A deep, resonant bell rang through the air, echoing across every building, tower, and courtyard.
Not the harsh clang of warning—no.
This was ceremonial.
Aeron stood, exhaling.
“Now begins the real thing.”
The start of a new year.
And the beginning of his chapter at Crownshade Academy.
With that, he left his room.
Division C – Dorms Corridors
With a thud, Aeron closed his room softly.
Outside.
Lyra stood waiting just outside her door.
She wore her own version of the academy uniform: a dark skirt, navy overcoat, and white shirt tucked with care.
Her ears twitched nervously, and her tail swayed a little before it stilled at the sight of Aeron.
“G-Good morning…” she greeted, clutching her satchel.
“Morning,” Aeron nodded, and together they began walking.
Together they made their way outside, towards the main building area.
.
.
.
Crownshade Academy Grounds – Path to Grand Hall
The academy grounds stirred like a blooming city.
Students flooded from dormitories and inner quarters—some excited, others sleepy, a few bored nobles with tired yawns and shining brooches.
What made them different—what marked their ranks—were their blazers.
Dark red for Division A—the elite.
Enchanted fabric glowed faintly around the collars.
Royal purple for Division B—noble descendants and top performers.
Dark blue for Division C—the newcomers, commoners with potential, or those who clawed their way past trials.
And dull gray for Division D—the lowest division.
The barely-accepted.
Faint hope.
All heading toward the Grand Assembly Hall, a towering structure of polished obsidian and floating crystal spires.
Banners of the kingdom’s seal fluttered in the breeze, and golden wyverns sculpted from windstone flew in synchronized arcs above.
Aeron walked calmly through the shifting flow of bodies, the hem of his coat catching light as he moved.
Lyra Dakes.
Clad in the same dark blue blazer, her gray hair neatly tied, ears lowered and tail stiff.
She had grown quieter over the last two days, especially during mealtimes.
And now, as they walked through the main courtyard, Aeron understood why.
Eyes followed them.
Whispers trailed behind them like shadows.
“Hey, isn’t that the Blackthorn heir?
The ruined noble?”
“What’s he doing in Division C…?”
“And that girl with him… beastfolk?
Half-blood?”
“Tch… mixing races like that.”
Some voices were curious, others malicious.
But all were unwanted.
Aeron didn’t react.
He had walked through worse in his past two lives.
But Lyra—he saw the change in her.
Her fingers curled tightly at her sides.
Her ears drooped.
Her tail no longer swayed.
Her pace faltered just slightly.
It made something inside Aeron stir.
Unable to see her like that anymore.
He sighed inwardly and paused mid-step.
Lyra blinked in confusion and stopped beside him.
“U-uhm… Aeron?
W-we should keep going, r-right?”
He didn’t answer her.
Instead, he turned slightly—his eyes sliding toward a trio of students standing a few paces to the left.
They had been whispering.
Smirking.
Now they froze.
One of them, a blond noble boy, paled visibly.
Another tried to fix his collar.
“Quiet.
The Blackthorn’s here,” someone muttered behind them.
Aeron walked up, expression sharpening.
Cold.
Measured.
Royal.
He wasn’t yelling.
He didn’t glow with power.
But the weight in his gaze made their mouths clamp shut.
Lyra, alarmed, took a half-step behind him.
She feared what he might do.
Being with him for these past day, she knew he is something more…
Aeron stared at the trio for a long moment.
His expression turning cold.
“Anything funny?” he asked softly.
His voice was soft—icewater in a goblet.
Deadlier than a shout.
They couldn’t speak.
It was as if the air grew heavy, a shiver ran down their spines.
“N-nothing at all,” one stammered.
Aeron raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, that so?.” His voice cold this time.
Lyra touched his sleeve.
“Aeron… it’s okay.
Let’s go.”
After a beat of a moment, he nodded slightly, turning to leave.
But not before a quiet warning.
But before they could take more than two steps—
“Tch.
Still acting arrogant even after being tossed away?”
A voice rang behind them. This chapter was taken from g.com without permission.
Aeron stopped in his steps, turning towards the voice slowly.
There
Standing slightly apart from the trio now was another student.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
Smug smirk twisting his lips.
His red blazer caught the light.
Division A.
He looked at Aeron, then down at Lyra.
His eyes lingered.
From her ears to her tail.
Then he clapped slowly.
“First, you had the princess of frost,” he drawled.
“Now you’ve got yourself a stray pup?”
Aeron remained still.
The boy’s grin widened, but it twisted now—crueler.
“From broken nobility… to broken lovers… and now what?
A half-blood pet?”
He sneered.
“Isn’t your luck just rotten?”
Lyra straightened a little, moving behind Aeron still feeling his eyes.
Aeron didn’t move.
Because in that moment, memories stirred.
He knew this boy.
The name came unbidden—Renholt Virein.
Son of a powerful duke.
Pursuer of Princess Selene before Aeron’s engagement with her.
Spoiled.
Proud.
Self Righteous.
But there was one more thing, the way he said all that about Lyra.
According to Academy’s rules, it was strictly prohibited and severely punishable.
But he said all that like it was nothing, because he held power… mainly his father.
Renholt laughed.
“You don’t talk now, Blackthorn?
What, afraid of one more loss?”
He stepped forward.
“Though I must say—half-blood or not, that one’s got curves.
Better keep her close before she runs too.”
Aeron didn’t blink.
Didn’t move.
But then he exhaled… and smiled faintly.
“You’re right,” he said softly.
Renholt blinked.
“…Right?” he repeated.
Aeron nodded.
“My luck’s bad.”
He turned, slowly circling the air with his hand.
“I lost my title.
My home.
My name.”
He paused.
“But at least I didn’t lose my dignity over a woman who clearly rejected me again, then again and again.”
The nearby students gasped.
A few chuckled behind their hands.
Lyra’s eyes went wide.
Renholt’s smirk shattered.
A vein poped up in his forehead.
“You—!”
He s
urged forward with a yell, his fist raised.
A crackle of magic flared faintly in his palm.
“Wait—!” a girl from Division A shouted.
But it was too late.
He launched forward, his punch aiming straight for Aeron’s chest—
And the screen fades.