Hakus 15th, 07:50 A.M.

  The first class of the day, and of course it was history. Geran — the same old man with a bald spot on his head — was already starting his boring lecture that could probably put a hungry lion to sleep.

  — First of all, little goblins. Can anyone answer me — the teacher paused, his eyes scanning the class for anyone who seemed lost in thought. — You, Innia. Answer me this: Why did the Emperor divide Gaijin into three rings?

  Ilya looked up from his absentminded doodle, holding back a sigh that might get him scolded.

  — Because he wanted to protect Gaijin from war. The Outer Ring was a defense tactic meant to station soldiers there. — Ilya spoke up, his voice sounding completely blank. After all, changing his tone was a big mistake. The guy who got sent to detention last class can confirm. — And it’s Ilya, sir.

  Geran narrowed his eyes at that answer, then his lips curved slightly as he resumed walking from one side to another, tapping his pen against his head.

  — Weak answer, boy. Wars were the reason he created the Middle Ring. Can anyone complete Innia’s response?

  His gaze shifted from head to head, eventually landing at a dark-haired girl seated in the middle part of the room. Her hair fell in soft waves just above her chest. She seemed to be drawing in her notebook, in a posture of complete disinterest.

  — Anna! Drawing won’t get you anywhere unless you do it exceptionally well. Doesn’t seem like you do, though. Now answer.

  The girl looked up from her notebook, startled by the sudden raise of his voice. Her dark eyes wandered toward the source of the sound, then landed on Geran. She scratched her left cheek with her index finger, then spoke up with a small stutter.

  — M-Me, sir? It’s Nayuu, Anna is the girl who’s sick. The one who’s been missing school since last week. — Nayuu said quietly, almost a whisper.

  The shy girl had dark circles under her eyes, showing a sleep schedule somehow worse than Ilya’s. Maybe there were a lot of night merchants around her home.

  Noticing the teacher couldn’t care less about her name, Nayuu looked down for a moment, organizing her thoughts.

  — I think… The three rings were created to establish functions in society. — she paused, looking at Geran, who just stared at her, tapping his pen against the teacher’s desk. Taking the hint, she continued. — The Outer Ring was formed by the lowest classes, so they would stay away from richer people, and also serve as a distraction in case of wars. Above it, the Middle Ring was created to defend the city in case it got attacked, and it was also a good place for stores, malls, schools, and other services. It also had most of the city’s defenses, obviously. Uhm… and the High Ring was formed by the richest people back then. It is the place for most of the business buildings, the biggest and most influential schools, universities, expensive hospitals, and—

  Geran intervened with a tap on the desk with his pen. Nayuu stopped talking, sitting up straighter.

  — That’s good enough. At least someone pays attention to this class. Now, we’ll learn about some of Gaijin’s revolutions, starting with the Internal Invasion, which was actually an internal conflict, not an actual invasion from another country, since […]

  Ilya leaned back against his chair. His pen slid across the desk and fell on the floor beside him. He sighed, and as he was about to pick it up, Angela already did so, putting the pen in his hand.

  — You know… do you ever feel like some parts in history classes are just… wrong? Like… it’s a cruel thing to use the poor as a distraction, especially since the Emperor is a “hero” to our country. Pretty morally wrong hero, huh? — the girl whispered, but the teacher was too invested in his monologue to notice.

  Ilya stared at her for a moment, then spoke up with an air of confusion, his expression blank.

  — What are you talking about…? I mean — thanks for the pen, but… that’s just history.

  The girl shrugged, spinning her pen and pressing it against her notebook.

  — Never mind, you’re boring. — she muttered, disappointed. — Forget it.

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  Ilya just sighed and started to take notes about Geran’s lesson. The last thirty minutes flowed as slowly as a snail, contributing even more to Ilya’s boredom. When the bell finally rang, the dark-haired boy glanced at Angela, noticing her blank page in her notebook.

  — Did you space out the whole class? Really?

  The girl’s gaze went to him with that sentence, as she responded quickly.

  — My memory’s really good. — she said with a small smile.

  — …I see. — Ilya muttered.

  The warm tones of sunset shone outside, refracting through the window and casting a golden light across the classroom. Those clear golden hours wouldn’t last long, considering how the snow would arrive soon. The final bell had rung, and Ilya was packing his materials when he felt a soft tap on his shoulder.

  — I’m still not used to this school’s layout, y’know… can you show me where the Music Club plays, please? — Angela asked, her backpack lazily slid down her shoulder. After a moment, she put her hands up apologetically. — If you have free time, of course! Sorry if it’s a burden.

  Ilya nodded, grabbing his backpack and standing up. He faced Angela, silently noticing how her eyes appeared golden under the sunset light.

  — So… can you? — Angela repeated, tilting her head.

  Ilya snapped out of his gaze and cleared his throat, falling into step toward the door.

  — Oh! Yeah, I’ll… — Ilya paused, slightly embarrassed — I’ll take you there.

  The crowd of students had already dissipated, emptying the hallways. Angela and Ilya walked as the boy tried his best to avoid conversation. The awkward mood was already intense, and to make it even worse, Nero was sick that day.

  The brown-haired girl looked around the hallways, noticing the small details like posters on the walls or small group projects presented in a few classrooms.

  — You don’t see these that much in High Ring. — she commented, running her hand through a series of lined-up paintings by the younger students.

  Ilya’s gaze shifted to her hand, but he just kept the pace, his hands buried deep inside his coat’s pockets.

  — Is that so? That’s… weird. — Ilya raised an eyebrow, now looking at the floor. — Schools up there are probably as fancy as palaces, right?

  Angela chuckled, letting go of the paintings and adjusting a loose strand of hair. She looked at Ilya with a small smile.

  — Is that what people think of High Ring here? I mean, it’s not average, but it isn’t some royal building or whatever you’re saying.

  Ilya nodded. They took a turn and ended up in front of the Music Club’s wooden door. Ilya sighed, remembering how he was technically supposed to be in there too.

  — Not a big fan of instruments? Fair, some of them are really hard. — Angela leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. She stared at the wooden door for a few seconds, before turning back to Ilya. — Sorry for intruding, but… you got messed up by the Red Hooks, right?

  Ilya felt a chill in his stomach. He placed a hand on his shirt, feeling the bandages wrapped beneath it. Looking down, he muttered.

  — I guess so. Why? — the boy looked at Angela, his tone quieter.

  Angela hummed, shrugged, and stepped closer, leaning toward Ilya’s face and inspecting a long patch over his cheek.

  — Dang, they even got your face? Pretty… brutal. Do you feel any headaches? Unease? A feeling that someone is about to stab you at any moment? — she rushed, question after question.

  Ilya leaned back, slightly startled by the sudden proximity. The way the light fell over her figure made her eyes appear almost golden. For a moment, the dark-haired boy had no answer, like the words tangled around his tongue.

  — I… sometimes feel that, maybe—

  — No “maybes”! Do you?

  — Fine, fine… I do. Why are you so interested in that? — he asked, glancing at the wooden door beside them, suddenly finding it immeasurably interesting.

  Angela stepped back, crossing her arms and following Ilya’s gaze.

  — Just curiosity. It’s not every day I get to talk to someone who survived a murder attempt. And the door won’t walk away, you know? No need to watch out for it. — she chuckled at her own joke. Ilya’s eyes almost instantly shifted to her, avoiding the door now as much as possible.

  — I know that! Anyway, don’t you need to go to your Music Club? — he spoke quickly, but tried not to stutter.

  Angela hummed once again, tapping her cheek with her index finger and looking down. She frowned slightly, dreading the next hour of boring music theory.

  — I guess I do, huh… — the brown-haired girl muttered under her breath, then sighed and walked to the door, hands behind her back. She turned to Ilya and smiled. — Well, see ya! Try not to get stabbed again!

  Ilya felt a small surge of annoyance at the last comment, but just waved at her.

  — See you later, then… — he said, reluctantly.

  The hallway felt colder when she was gone.

  — A murder attempt, huh. — Ilya repeated, turning around, his footsteps echoing through the empty hallway once again.