The First Class (2)

*****

Step—!

Amon took a slow step forward, his eyes scanning the room for any available seat.

His hopes plummeted the moment he realized—

There was only one empty seat left.

And it was right beside Eugene Beethoven.

"Ughh… damn it…"

He cursed internally, his expression remaining neutral even as frustration welled up inside him.

Of all the possible places, why this one?

He had wanted to keep his distance, to avoid entanglement with the main cast for as long as possible.

In every story he had read, getting too close to the protagonist was never a good idea—especially in a world filled with schemes, power struggles, and hidden dangers.

Yet now, fate was forcing his hand.

Taking a quiet breath, he steeled himself and walked forward, each step feeling heavier than the last.

The moment he reached the seat, he hesitated for the briefest second before finally lowering himself onto the chair.

The air between them was thick with unspoken tension.

Eugene, still fully engrossed in his book, didn't acknowledge him.

He simply turned a page, his fingers moving with mechanical precision, as if the presence of another person meant nothing.

Amon exhaled subtly, his body relaxing just a little.

Maybe, just maybe, Eugene would ignore him.

Maybe he could sit here in silence, avoid unnecessary interactions, and keep himself away from whatever grand destiny awaited this protagonist.

…Or so he hoped.

"Hi… My name's Eugene Beethoven."

Amon's mind screeched to a halt as he heard those words.

The voice was warm, smooth—carrying that natural friendliness that protagonists always seemed to have.

Slowly, almost mechanically, Amon turned his head toward the speaker, his thoughts racing as if his brain had short-circuited.

'Wait… did he just talk to me?'

His eyes flickered to the side, scanning their surroundings as if expecting someone else to be standing nearby.

Perhaps Eugene was greeting another student? Maybe there was a mistake?

But no.

There was no one else.

Eugene Beethoven—the main character of this world, the supposed "chosen one"—was greeting him.

And not just that—he was extending his left hand toward Amon, palm open, in an unmistakable gesture of friendship.

Amon's stomach twisted.

What kind of cliché development is this?

Everything about this moment felt too typical—a scene ripped straight from the early chapters of a novel, where the protagonist meets a "soon-to-be-important" character and extends his hand in good faith.

Amon had read about characters like Eugene countless times before.

A noble-hearted fool.

An unshakable optimist.

Someone who trusted too easily and was bound to be used.

"A-Ah, y-yeah…"

The words left his mouth before he could stop them.

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to maintain composure as his gaze locked onto Eugene's face.

The protagonist's features were exactly what he expected.

The kind of person who could rally armies with a single speech, someone who carried a natural charisma that made people gravitate toward him.

His eyes were a striking shade of deep emerald, radiating sincerity.

His golden-blond hair had a slight waviness to it, giving him an air of effortless charm.

And, of course, that smile.

A warm, genuine smile.

The kind that could disarm even the most wary of people.

Amon hesitated.

He didn't want to shake this guy's hand.

He had no intention of getting involved with the main cast.

Protagonists always attracted trouble.

Be it fate, destiny, or just sheer misfortune, standing next to them was like standing in the eye of a storm—disasters followed wherever they went.

But at the same time…

There was something off about Eugene.

As Amon slowly extended his own hand, gripping Eugene's in return, a strange sensation washed over him.

It wasn't just the warmth of another person's touch.

It was subtle—like a faint static charge, a whisper of something hidden beneath Eugene's otherwise kind demeanor.

Amon narrowed his eyes.

For a moment, his system flickered in his vision, a faint notification appearing at the corner of his mind.

[Warning: Unknown Entity Detected.]

His breath hitched.

'What?'

Amon's gaze snapped up, but Eugene was still smiling at him, his expression unreadable beyond that outward friendliness.

At that moment, Amon realized something.

This wasn't just the generic protagonist development he had expected.

Eugene Beethoven was hiding something.

And, whether he liked it or not, Amon had just stepped right into the center of it.

Eugene, noticing the prolonged silence, tilted his head slightly, his smile unwavering but his emerald eyes flickering with curiosity.

Their hands were still clasped together in an unspoken moment—Amon's grip had stiffened, his mind racing through the implications of that system notification.

Noticing the tension, Eugene let out a light chuckle, his voice carrying an easygoing warmth.

"You alright there? You seem a little… distracted."

His words were casual, but there was an underlying sharpness to them.

Amon didn't miss it.

He quickly loosened his grip and retracted his hand, clearing his throat.

"Yeah. Just... wasn't expecting a greeting from you, that's all."

Eugene raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering across his features.

"Why not? We're classmates, after all. Might as well get to know each other."

Classmates.

Amon suppressed the urge to scoff.

It wasn't just that.

If anything, he wanted to stay as far away from the protagonist as possible.

Yet, here they were, side by side, shaking hands like some inevitable twist of fate had forced them into each other's orbit.

Eugene didn't seem to notice—or maybe he did, and he was just good at pretending otherwise.

"You've got a strong grip,"

He added with a grin, flexing his fingers slightly.

"Are you a swordsman? Or maybe a brawler?"

Amon hesitated.

He hadn't even realized how firm his grip had been.

He exhaled, choosing his words carefully.

"Something like that."

Eugene didn't press further.

Instead, he leaned back in his seat, tapping the cover of his book with a thoughtful expression.

"Well, Amon, I have a feeling we'll be seeing a lot of each other. Call it intuition."

Amon forced a tight-lipped smile, but inwardly, he felt an uneasy knot forming in his stomach.

Intuition, huh?

He wasn't sure whether to call it fate or a cosmic joke, but one thing was certain—Eugene Beethoven was going to be a problem.

Then, as if the very air in the room had been seized by an unseen force, the chattering among the students came to an abrupt halt.

A presence had entered—a presence so commanding that silence became instinctual.

Amon, like the rest, turned his gaze toward the source.

A woman stood at the threshold of the classroom, her posture poised, her presence both ethereal and formidable.

Her long, flowing purple hair cascaded down her back like a river of silk, swaying gently with her every movement.

The way it framed her delicate features only enhanced her beauty—so refined, so striking, that she seemed almost unreal.

Yet, it wasn't just her looks that held them captive.

It was the way she carried herself.

Every step she took exuded an effortless confidence, her heels clicking lightly against the polished floor.

Her golden eyes, luminous and piercing, swept across the room, scrutinizing each student with a gaze that felt as if it could unravel their very thoughts.

She couldn't have been older than twenty-five—her face bore no signs of age, no hint of weariness.

And yet, there was something in her expression, in the way she carried herself, that spoke of experience far beyond her years.

Amon instinctively straightened in his seat.

Even Eugene, who had been entirely at ease moments ago, adjusted his posture slightly, his book now forgotten on his desk.

This was no ordinary instructor.

And the realization settled into the bones of every student present.

The woman reached the front of the class, her gaze finally settling upon them as a whole.

Then, in a voice as smooth as velvet yet carrying an unspoken authority, she spoke—

"Welcome, freshmen. My name is Professor Selene Valtoria. I will be your instructor for Magic Fundamentals.,"

Her voice was steady, cool, and composed.

There was no warmth in it—only the sharp, unyielding edge of someone who had no patience for mediocrity.

"Before we begin, let me make one thing clear."

She paused, allowing the silence to stretch, ensuring that every student was listening.

"I have no interest in coddling you. You are here to learn. To push beyond your limits. To shape yourselves into mages worthy of this institution."

Her golden eyes flickered, a silent challenge to any who dared think otherwise.

"If you seek an easy path, you are in the wrong place."

Amon felt a shiver crawl up his spine.

This wasn't just any professor.

This was someone dangerous.

Someone who had likely seen more battles than they could imagine.

Someone who wouldn't tolerate weakness.

He clenched his fists beneath his desk, his mind already spinning with thoughts.

Selene Valtoria.

A name that hadn't been mentioned in the novel.

A deviation.

And in that moment, Amon knew—this world wasn't going to follow the story he had once read.

Amon barely had time to process his thoughts before the sharp, commanding voice of Professor Selene cut through the air like a blade.

"Okay then,"

She announced, her golden eyes sweeping across the room with an unreadable expression.

"Line up and follow me. We're starting the physical test."

The reaction from the students was immediate.

The lively chatter that had once filled the classroom vanished in an instant, replaced by murmurs of confusion and hushed whispers.

"Physical test?"

Someone muttered from the back.

"I thought today was just introductions and orientation,"

Another voice added, laced with apprehension.

"What kind of test is she talking about?"

Amon's brows furrowed slightly.

This wasn't in the novel.

He had read through every major event in the story, and there had never been any mention of an initial physical examination.

Luminae Conservatory of Magic had always emphasized theoretical knowledge first, allowing students to study magic in a controlled, structured environment before pushing them into real-world applications.

Yet, here they were—barely an hour into their first day, and they were already being thrown into something unexpected.

Something's off.

He stole a glance at Eugene, the so-called protagonist of this world.

Unlike the others, Eugene showed no signs of nervousness or hesitation.

He simply smiled, as if this development was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

Of course, the protagonist wouldn't be fazed.

Amon exhaled quietly, realizing that he had no choice but to go along with it.

If this was truly a deviation from the original story, then resisting or questioning it would only paint a target on his back.

Professor Selene tapped her foot impatiently, her arms crossed over her chest.

"If you can't even follow a simple instruction, you might as well leave now."

Her words sent a wave of tension through the students.

Nobody dared to step forward or speak up.

The authority in her voice was absolute.

Amon observed her closely.

She looked young—too young to be an ordinary professor.

Her long, flowing purple hair cascaded past her waist, accentuating the sharp contrast of her golden eyes.

There was no trace of wrinkles on her pale face, suggesting she was likely no older than twenty-five.

Yet, despite her youthful appearance, there was an unmistakable aura of experience about her, as if she had seen countless battles and crushed many students' spirits before.

This woman… she's dangerous.

Not because of her beauty, but because of the sheer presence she exuded.

"Move,"

She commanded once more, her voice colder this time.

There was no room for argument.

With reluctant steps, the students began forming a line, following her out of the classroom.

Amon, still piecing together his thoughts, fell in line as well.

He had no idea what was about to happen, but one thing was certain:

This academy was nothing like what he had read in the novel.

*****

Thanks for reading—! And here I make the explanation less compelling to make it understood brainrot readers