John, Cyn..... Axia...

Sion walked through the halls of the Beast King's House with his hands tucked into his pockets, eyes scanning the corridor with quiet interest.

He was late.

Not because he got lost—but because Dara had dragged him over to the Infernal House first.

She wanted to see how chaotic it was, and of course, it lived up to its name. They'd spent a while just watching from the sidelines as nobles tried (and failed) to organize themselves. Tension, posturing, side-eyes—standard noble politics.

She'd promised to come check out his hostel next.

But her new roommates had distracted her. Or maybe it was Gena who picked a fight with Silas that got her attention. Either way, she vanished into the noise, and Sion decided not to wait around.

His room number blinked softly on his badge—Room 20.

A simple red dot with a glowing number pulsed in the corner of his field of vision. Another handy feature of the Academy's tech: your badge could project location markers right onto your vision like an interface.

The hallway stretched ahead—wide, clean, and way quieter than the other hostels.

Unlike the militaristic feel of the Infernal House or the noble prestige of the Destroyer's Abode, this place felt… normal. Or at least, unbothered.

Some students leaned against walls chatting. Others trained quietly in open alcoves. A few looked half-asleep even while walking.

No factions. No recruitment. No tension.

It was less a house and more a collection of strays figuring things out.

Sion liked that.

He rounded a corner. The badge blinked faster.

Room 20.

His room.

He stopped outside the door. Took a breath.

Then pushed it open.

The room was massive.

Three beds, each spaced with absurd generosity. One to the right, one to the left, and one dead center like some kind of social experiment.

Curtains lined the edges of the beds, lockers stood tall by the walls, and a single large window let in beams of natural light—cutting across the polished floor like lines on a chessboard.

Sion stepped in and immediately spotted someone already there.

A boy sat casually on the right-side bed, leaning back against the headboard with one leg folded over the other. He had a box open beside him, half-packed with essentials—nothing too personal, just a clean arrangement of necessities. He'd clearly staked out the right side as his.

His head tilted as he watched Sion enter.

Sion didn't say anything. He just crossed the room, picked the bed to the left, and collapsed into it like he'd earned the right to exist there.

The mattress didn't complain.

The silence lingered for a moment.

Then the boy spoke. His voice was easygoing, but there was a flick of curiosity underneath.

"You're that guy, right?" he asked. "The superhero kid."

Sion cracked an eye open.

"Yeah."

The boy nodded, as if he'd just confirmed a trivia answer. "Cool. Everyone's allowed to dream, right?"

There was no mockery in his tone. Just observation.

Sion shrugged. "Better than sulking about how the world sucks."

That got a chuckle out of the guy.

"Well, superhero," he said, leaning forward and holding out a hand, "name's John. If you ever get into some crazy mess, I got your back."

He winked.

Sion let out a dry laugh as he sat up and took the handshake. "You'll regret that."

Then, casually, "Sion."

John froze mid-handshake.

"…Sion?"

He blinked.

"Sion."

Another blink.

"You're that Sion?"

"Apparently," Sion said.

John looked like someone had told him he just ate lunch with a lion. "Second rank Sion?"

"You gonna keep saying it or breathe at some point?"

John shook his head, grinning in disbelief. "Bro, you don't even look like you care."

"I don't," Sion replied.

John flopped back against his bed, laughing. "This is wild. Second place and still room-sharing like a commoner."

"Better than being roomless like a king with no throne."

They both laughed.

Then—

SLAM.

The door burst open like someone owed it money.

Sion and John turned simultaneously.

In the doorway stood a slim figure in loose-fitting boys' clothes, a duffel bag slung across one shoulder.

He froze.

They froze.

He stared at Sion.

His eyes narrowed.

"…You have fangs?"

There was a long pause.

Then, like a switch flipped, he snapped out of it, stepped in, and kicked the door shut behind him.

"Sup, bros."

They didn't respond.

They were both staring now—at the strip of plaster across his nose, at the messy tangle of short black curls, and especially at his eyes. Brown, but ringed with jet-black circles that looked like someone had drawn them in with ink. Eyes that didn't blink much, but didn't miss much either.

Then—

"She's a woman," they both said in sync.

He scoffed. "Pfft. Woman? Me?"

Sion and John stared at him. Unblinking. Deadpan.

The silence stretched.

John's eyes slowly—intentionally—drifted down toward her chest.

He folded.

"Okay, okay—fine!" She threw her hands up. "So what if I am?"

She waved them off. "Doesn't matter."

Sion shrugged. "Doesn't."

John echoed, "We don't care."

"Cool," she said, flipping her bag off her shoulder and letting it drop to the floor with a thud. "Name's Cyn."

She pointed at them in turn. "And you two?"

They glanced at each other.

A beat passed.

Then, in sync: "Sion." "John."

Cyn blinked.

Her jaw twitched.

Her eyes went wide.

"You're Sion and John?!"

Her face lit up like she'd just pulled a golden ticket.

A grin split her lips. "I got the two strongest guys in this whole damn house in my room? Hell yeah—this is a win."

With that, she practically dove onto the center bed, bouncing once before flopping flat on her back.

Then she popped back up, frowning.

"Wait, this isn't right. I can't sleep between two boys. That's scandalous."

Neither John nor Sion responded.

They were already moving.

Sion stood, grabbed the small pouch he'd tossed on the bed, and pulled it open. Without a word, he yanked off his top and trousers, throwing them in a lazy arc toward the corner.

John, with perfect timing, mirrored him—his shirt flying in the same direction.

Cyn's gaze followed the clothes like a hawk tracking prey.

"Yo—what the hell?! That's bad behavior! Y'all just—just throwing your—"

She cut off mid-rant.

Because she realized both of them were now digging into their bags for clean clothes like synchronized savages.

Then, without looking up, they said it at the same time—

"If you're gonna dress and talk like a boy…"

"…you better learn to live like one."

---

Evening had settled like a warm breath over the Academy grounds.

Inside the Beast King Hostel, most students were either winding down or making noise—but Sion preferred the quieter corners. His steps echoed softly as he wandered through the stone halls, his hands tucked into his pockets, mind drifting.

Then he saw it.

A tall, arched doorway, carved with old runes and crowned with a hanging plaque.

[Library]

He tilted his head slightly.

"Huh."

With no real reason to stop—but no reason not to—he stepped inside.

The library was... quiet.

Unnaturally so.

Rows upon rows of books stretched beyond the eye's reach, some shelves taller than buildings. The air carried a scent of old pages, candle wax, and something ancient.

At first glance, it was empty.

Sion walked to the nearest shelf, ran his fingers across the spines, and pulled out a random book. Dust puffed out like the book hadn't seen sunlight in years.

Just as he cracked it open—

Rustle.

Pages turning.

Not his.

Sion paused, ears twitching faintly. He followed the sound, quiet as a shadow, until he peeked over one of the taller shelves.

There—tucked between two rows under a floating candlelight—was a girl.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, a thick tome open on her lap. Her long, curly silver hair shimmered like spun starlight under the glow. A purple witch hat rested gently on her head, slightly oversized, tilted at an angle. Her violet eyes scanned the page with focused intensity, yet her aura felt gentle—fragile, even.

Sion raised a brow.

"Oh, you. You're the youngest of those girls, aren't you?"

His voice broke the silence like a ripple in still water.

Axia flinched.

Her head snapped up. A flurry of emotions danced across her face—surprise, guilt, then a touch of something softer... remorse?

She gave a hesitant nod.

Sion leaned on the edge of the shelf, casual. "Well… nice to meet you again."

He trailed off, waiting.

"…Axia," she said softly.

Sion nodded once. "Hmm. Nice name."

Then, with a small smile—

"…Axia."