The whispers followed Arashi like persistent shadows long after the duel.
The crowd had seen something they couldn't explain—how a supposed weakling had effortlessly dismantled Renji Takeda, a noble with powerful magic.
Their hushed voices carried through corridors, hung in the air like invisible mist.
Eyes followed his every move, calculating, wondering.
Rumors would spread. That was inevitable.
But what concerned him more... was her.
Kagura Ayame.
She hadn't just watched—she had dissected him with those piercing violet eyes. Too intently. Too knowingly.
As if peeling back layers of deception with each measured glance.
'She's not convinced.'
Arashi exhaled through his nose, a tight knot forming in his chest.
He had expected suspicion, but not this soon, not this intensely.
He needed to divert attention—quickly, cunningly—before her suspicions crystallized into certainty.
And conveniently, an opportunity was about to present itself, dangling before him like forbidden fruit.
The academy's corridors buzzed with electric excitement as students clustered around the new announcement posted on the main board, their faces illuminated with anticipation.
"The Annual House Selection Test Will Begin in Two Days!"
The House Selection was one of the academy's most significant events.
Not merely a test—it was destiny's forge, determining a student's place in one of the four great Houses, each with its own influence, resources, and coveted privileges.
More importantly—
It was a perfect stage for manipulation. A theater where Arashi could direct attention away from himself while pulling invisible strings.
"Arashi."
A voice called his name, smooth yet commanding, slicing through the ambient chatter like a blade through silk.
He turned.
Kagura Ayame stood before him, her dark violet eyes unreadable pools of midnight.
Despite the commotion around them, the air between them seemed to crystallize, an invisible pressure settling over them like the calm before a storm.
She held out a sealed envelope, the wax seal bearing the prestigious crest of the Student Council.
"This is for you." Her words hung in the air, weighted with unspoken implications.
Arashi accepted it wordlessly, breaking the seal with deliberate slowness, feeling her gaze track his every movement.
Inside, a single message was written in elegant calligraphy:
"Join the Student Council."
' What this Again, how annoying,'
Later that night, Arashi leaned against his dormitory window, the cool glass a counterpoint to his racing thoughts as he reread the letter by moonlight.
The pale light cast shadows across the parchment, turning the elegant script into something almost sinister.
Joining the Student Council would grant him access to sensitive information.
It would let him observe the academy's political landscape from the inside, peer through cracks in the system, identify weaknesses he could exploit.
But it also meant placing himself under their watch. Under her and their watch.
Every word scrutinized. Every action analyzed.
A double-edged sword, honed to lethal sharpness.
'Tch. Annoying.' His fingers tightened around the letter, crinkling the expensive parchment.
Then again... wasn't this exactly what he needed? A chance to redirect suspicion, to plant seeds of doubt in fertile soil?
The Unknown masks were watching. Ayame was watching. The student council were watching
If he played this right, with perfect precision, he could turn their suspicions against each other, create a vortex of doubt where he could operate unseen.
A slow, predatory smirk played at his lips, his eyes gleaming with dangerous calculation in the moonlight.
'Let's see who the real predator is.'
The next morning, Arashi found himself walking through the academy's gardens.
The morning mist curling around ancient stone pathways as he headed toward the Student Council chamber.
He wasn't surprised to find Ayame waiting for him, a solitary figure amidst the verdant beauty.
She stood beneath a flowering tree, watching the pink petals drift through the air like snow, her profile a study in elegant composure.
"You read the letter," she said. It wasn't a question but a statement laced with certainty.
Arashi tilted his head, his posture deliberately casual. "Is this how you always recruit people? Mysterious invitations and ambush tactics?"
Ayame's lips curved slightly, a ghost of a smile that never reached her eyes. "It worked, didn't it?"
He shrugged, a calculated display of indifference. "Maybe I was just curious."
' they sent you to smooth things over, how predictable.'
"Or maybe you're exactly what we're looking for." Her words fell between them like stones in still water, creating ripples of implication.
Arashi met her gaze unflinchingly, his mind already moving through possibilities, calculating angles, identifying leverage points.
Was she testing him? Warning him? Luring him into a trap of his own making?
It didn't matter.
Because no matter what game she was playing—he would win. He always did.
Dark marble floors that seemed to swallow light. Towering windows that bathed the room in ethereal moonlight, casting long shadows that stretched like grasping fingers.
A single long table at the center, occupied by the most powerful students in the academy, their faces masks of practiced neutrality hiding razor-sharp ambitions.
And at the head of the table—Leonhart Valerian.
He sat with perfect posture, fingers interlaced, his eyes watching him like a chess player studying his next move, seeing possibilities unfold five steps ahead.
'So, this is their den.' Arashi committed every detail to memory, noting exits, gauging distances, measuring threats.
The Student Council wasn't just a governing body. It was a faction.
One that dictated power struggles within the academy's walls, that shaped futures and crushed aspirations with equal indifference.
And they had invited him inside. Brought the wolf into the fold.
Why?
The other council members didn't bother hiding their skepticism, hostility radiating from them in palpable waves.
"Is this a joke?" One of them scoffed, voice dripping with contempt. "You expect us to welcome a magic-less into our ranks?"
Arashi didn't react. Not a muscle twitched. Not a breath quickened.
He merely glanced at leonhardt, a question in his eyes but not on his lips.
'Let's see how he plays this.'
he tapped a single finger against the table, the soft sound somehow cutting through the tension like thunder.
"The Imperial Academy recognizes strength in all forms," she said smoothly, her voice a velvet glove concealing an iron fist.
"The fact that he is here should tell you he's already proven something."
Murmurs rippled through the chamber like disturbed water.
Uneasy glances were exchanged, alliances silently reaffirmed, threats tacitly issued.
Arashi watched them carefully, reading their body language, memorizing their reactions.
The council was divided. Some saw him as a curiosity, a novelty to be examined and discarded.
Others as a threat to the natural order, a pebble that could start an avalanche.
'Good.'
They were already giving him more attention than he deserved. That meant they were thinking about him.
And if they were thinking about him—they could be manipulated, their own fears and ambitions turned against them like hidden blades.
Leonhardt turned to him, the subtle movement commanding instant silence.
"The House Selection is in two days." His voice was measured, each word deliberate, weighed and delivered with surgical precision.
"Most students have already begun forging alliances. You, however, remain unclaimed."
Arashi raised an eyebrow, a calculated display of defiance. "Didn't realize I was property."
A few chuckles, nervous and sharp. A few glares, burning with indignation.
Leonhardt didn't react, not even a flicker of emotion disturbing his composed features.
"It's simple. The Student Council is offering you protection. In exchange, they want something from you."
"Which is?" The question hung between them, charged with unspoken challenge.
His smile curved into something dangerously close to amusement, a predator's smile. "They want to see what you'll do."
Silence descended, heavy and oppressive.
Arashi narrowed his eyes, mind racing behind the mask of calm.
'Ah. So that's how it is.'
They weren't asking for loyalty. They weren't even demanding compliance.
They were studying him like a specimen under glass.
And they sent her as their instrument, their eyes and ears.
Waiting. Watching. Measuring his every response, every microexpression.
And that meant—they were uncertain. Unsure of where to place him on the chessboard.
'Good. Keep them guessing. Keep them off-balance.'
He smirked, the expression not reaching his eyes. "I'm flattered. But I don't recall asking for protection."
"Perhaps," he said, tilting his head slightly, a serpent considering its prey. "But you'll need it soon."
The words hung in the air, a promise and a threat twined together like venomous vines.
As Arashi left the chamber, he felt the weight of Ayame's gaze lingering on his back, sharp as a blade between his shoulder blades.
The Student Council had extended an invitation.
Not as allies.
Not as friends.
But as observers. As watchers on the wall.
They wanted to see what kind of player he was. What moves he would make when the board was set.
And that meant—he had just been placed on the board. A piece in their game.
Or so they thought.
He exhaled slowly, his mind already shifting through possibilities, discarding some, developing others, weaving a web of contingencies.
'Let the games continue.' His thoughts coalesced into cold resolve. 'And may the best deceiver win.'