“There are a few things you have to know for starters,” a young, plain-looking commoner said to a beautiful young man standing next to him. That young man had an academy uniform on, a grey jacket with an emblem, a grey vest, and pants. His hair was short, like gold threads that covered clear, sun-kissed skin and framed sparkling lavender eyes. “We are commoners; even if the academy says this is common ground and we’re all the same as students…we are not. You have to be careful. You should avoid the attention of the student council. Those high-up nobles only play nice when, in truth, they’re the ones who organise the bullying. No one stops them, because the only thing those people can think of is that at least it’s not them. There are also the ladies from the magic major we are in; their leader is Lady Florent. Yeah, of those Florents, one of the Big Four. Those ladies are vile, let me tell you! … And there is also Lord Dante Crimson...Yep, another Big Four...well, he...O! there he is!”

  Dante was enjoying his peace, ignoring his surroundings. The students, new and old, didn’t matter to him. He grew used to his lone type of life. He didn’t have friends. His constantly cold expression never helped in that matter. Now he was only trying to get to the classroom, but because of some commotion, he ended up stuck near the fountain at the entrance to the Gardeniabay Academy. At least the weather was nice and sunny. He enjoyed a moment of peace basking in the sunlight. When suddenly there was a splash. Water hit him right in the face, wetting his black bangs.

  He turned around, maintaining his cold expression. He was just curious what happened. One person was in the fountain, a younger peer. Sitting in the water, the boy clutched his fists, trying not to cry. His clothes were worn out, as if the uniform had been passed down to him by his older sibling and now was completely soaked. Dante could assume that this boy was a commoner. He shot a glance at the three laughing students who were responsible for this situation. They were all nobles, guessing by their clean attires and fancy accessories. Dante gritted his teeth; he didn’t want to be noticed by them, but when they all shuddered because of his cold red glare, he knew he needed to play along.

  “L...Lord Dante! You...We didn’t know you were standing there!” one of the young nobles voiced when Dante stepped closer.

  “What is that commotion, Lord Neil?” The boy seemed surprised that he knew his name. “You think that the academy is a playground for you? I’m wet now and you’re the one responsible for it! I’ve already had enough of your big mouth after what I heard before summer break. And with two people at once!” Dante still had the same cold expression, while on the other hand, the boy called Neil looked like a fresh tomato, embarrassed to the core. He started looking around, afraid of how many people heard the conversation.

  “How...how do you know?”

  “It’s not a matter of that. It’s rather what your father, Count Alion, would think? Do you want me to tell him that his son fools around in classrooms?” the young lord started frantically moving his head. “Then stop annoying me and get to the class! … Maybe I should have shot you back then, at least you wouldn’t be so sore for my eyes today.” The group of three, by some miraculous quick thinking, decided to flee the scene, before the young lord would do more than just threaten them. The crowd around started whispering, thinking that Dante was about to shoot someone again and only because he was annoyed.

  Dante looked at the victim, yet to change expression. He didn’t really pity the younger peer. He could be in the same spot if he were to show his true self. He had no mana. The force that everything revolved around. He couldn’t use magic. He was a failure, an easy target, but at the same time, he was the one everyone feared. They labelled him as unpredictable and vengeful.

  The commoner looked at the ground, even more scared by his gaze. Dante just clicked his tongue in annoyance and walked off confidently. Only when he was inside the building did he relax his shoulder.

  “The famous con-artist Dante strikes again!” a cheery voice came from his side. A girl around the same age as him floated above the ground. She was poking Dante’s cheek with her finger, while her legs walked before them. She was in two parts, bones sticking out in a grotesque sight. She also had on the uniform, a little outdated one. Dante sighed.

  “Stop poking me,” he whispered. Well, he could do nothing less, because of the crowd around. If he were seen speaking to himself, there would be many more rumours about him.

  “Oh! Tell me, how nervous you were just a second ago?! It’s a miracle you didn’t break anything!” He was indeed nervous. How could he not? He had just faced bullies, who could have easily targeted him. And when he was nervous, he usually broke things in his clumsiness. “But see, my gossip comes in handy!”

  “You’re a ghost, Izodora, you spy on people for entertainment.” He muttered, striding to the classroom to the left. His first lesson this semester was history; he enjoyed this subject. When he entered, the once lively room became quiet. His reputation really preceded him. Ignoring his classmates, he walked to his seat at the end of the lecture hall, next to the window, where he could see the training grounds. At least two seats next to him were always left untouched.

  This classroom was swarming with ghosts, just like the entire academy. Public places like this always attracted them. Dante may have no mana, but he could see ghosts. He really didn’t know why, nor did he care. This ability made him a loner, whose friends were only ghosts and a butler, Ron. He grew accustomed to this, as much as to the fact that his family didn’t really care about him. He was sent to the academy by his father, Duke Crimson, because it was far from home. He didn’t fit his image of a powerful family of mages. Duke never had any ill intentions towards his son, but Dante knew that he felt ashamed and pitied him. The idea of him attending the academy and living alone in the holiday mansion strangely comforted Dante.

  Especially, when he learnt that the mansion was haunted. He had his own ghost gardener, ghost maids, and even a ghost cook. And of course Ron, who couldn’t see them at all, the butler always strangely smiled at him when he caught him speaking to them. Dante sometimes wondered what this old man thought about him. Once he heard him saying, ‘My master is just eccentric,’ as if being eccentric meant being mad.

  After some minutes of silence and moving seats to the ones far away from young lord Crimson, the classroom became lively again. Dante’s classmates talked about their vacations, what they've done, or where they’ve been. If he were to join, he could talk about taming a Black Dog, one of the strongest wraiths, that could take the form of a real, physical dog. He called it Lady, and she growled at him whenever he called her differently. Izodora helped him a lot; she was one of the ghosts that wasn’t tied to a place, but could travel freely. The stronger ghosts were the more they could do, like moving things, possession, or even showing themselves to humans. Iza was quite strong when he looked back at it. She never wanted to tell him what sliced her in half; she always joked that he could guess some ‘half’ truths. Her puns were terrible, but he caught himself smiling at them.

  Some girls who sat in front of him, after making sure that he didn’t pay them any mind, started talking in hushed tones:

  “Did you hear?! The Miracle Sage from the Mist City killed one of the vassals from the east. They say he did it out of spite.” Dante wasn’t usually one for the gossip, but the Miracle Sage was interesting even to him. No one knew what this sage looked like, though rumours said he was incredibly handsome, nor what his name was. A few things about him were widely known. One was that he was the same age as Dante, twenty-one, the youngest sage in history. Another was that he hated people and was violent. Those killings may have been only rumours, because there were no bodies or evidence. But that same sage was also the most powerful mage on the continent; he probably could evaporate people. The problem with Mist City was that its inhabitants mostly kept to themselves.

  “Are you sure?” the other girl asked. “Anyway, who cares! He’s handsome and powerful, a perfect man. I wish I could meet him!”

  Upon hearing this, Dante couldn’t help but scoff.

  “Lovely, now I also wonder what the Miracle Sage looks like,” chirped Iza, and then her gaze fell to the seats next to her friend. She let out a quiet ‘O!’ and then Dante felt that someone took a place next to him. “My little Prince of Gloom is going to have living friends!”

  Dante ignored her comment with yet another funky nickname and looked to his side. His expression nearly changed when the first thing he saw was a little too big and dazzling smile of a beautiful young man with gold hair. Dante sized him up. It was strange enough that someone approached him on their own accord, but the fact that the person was a commoner was even stranger. Next to the gold-haired young man was another one, looking shy and a tad bit scared, with brown hair and eyes, without any distinguishable features.

  “Hello there, my dear lord. My name is Kelit.” He looked Dante straight in the eyes and then remembering that he wasn’t alone, gestured to his friend: “And this is Peter.” Now his lavender eyes sized Dante in turn. When the young lord didn’t answer, just glared at them, Peter tugged at Kelit’s arm:

  “Uh… maybe we should sit elsewhere…”

  Dante quickly realised his mistake, but decided that it fit his carefully-created persona and said coldly:

  “I don’t care,” and turned his face back towards the whiteboard and the professor who had just taken her seat.

  “Uh, icy, I like that,” it was like Kelit wanted him to hear that comment, but the young man was still grinning and had no intention of switching seats. Iza started giggling, unnoticed by anyone but Dante and other responsive ghosts.

  “I like this one! Make friends with him!”

  Dante wasn’t sure about that. He had a strange feeling when Kelit looked at him. It was like not only was he being assessed with a tad bit too much interest, but also seen through. And not only that, but that man’s eyes seemed strange. It wasn’t their colour; lavender was quite common. Dante couldn’t put his hand on why he felt such strange vibes from him; maybe it was a gut feeling.

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  When suddenly his heart started beating faster. It wasn’t the boy’s smile that made his pulse spike, it was like something heavier was pressing on him, like the air itself had turned hostile. He glanced at Kelit again. He was sure that that sudden, strong feeling had something to do with him. He subconsciously reached under his jacket, where his revolver was hidden, before he caught himself. Reflex. He wasn’t about to draw it on a classmate. For him without magic, this was the only tool he could rely on when he felt threatened, and he discovered that bullets were quicker than spell-casting, unless someone was an incredible mage. A blond man was looking at Peter, his back facing Dante.

  The Crimson-eyed man then turned to his ghostly friend and wrote in his notebook: ‘What was that?’ and showed it to Izodora.

  “What was what? That’s a handsome guy if you don’t have eyes to check it.” She looked at him with brows tight, eyes shocked like always, stuck like that since she died, so that expression looked quite comical on her now.

  Dante shook his head, deciding to pay attention to the lecture that had just started. He would think about this strange encounter later. The professor’s tone was dull as usual, but for some reason everyone always listened to her. Somewhere mid-lecture he heard Iza giggle while her torso flowed above Kelit. He firstly glanced at her, but when she pointed down at the man’s notebook his eyes widened for a moment. Kelit wasn’t paying attention in class, that was obvious. The notebook wasn’t filled with notes on the Fifth Magical Era at all, but doodles of little profiles, sharp jaw, dark hair, that cold expression Dante thought he wore so well.

  “The fuck?” He muttered to himself. His ears burned as he snapped his gaze forward, thankfully no one saw that. Of all things, he hadn’t expected that.

  “It seems he’s smitten with you already! How did you pull that off Mr. Gloomy?” Iza answered, floating back to his side.

  “Heh,” he didn’t have to look to know who’s chuckle was that. It appears that Kelit wanted him to see his little doodles.

  The moment the lecture ended, Dante ignored both commoners who sat next to him, walking out of the class. He really didn’t want more complications in his already hectic life. Especially now, when it was the time for his ‘favourite’ subjects: practical magic. Thankfully, he didn’t major in magic, but in diplomatic law, which made rumours about him more exaggerated. People whispered how a man who threatened others with a gun daily could possibly study diplomatic arts.

  One practical magic class a week was enough to make him feel nauseous. Before going to the training ground, he decided to check a scourboard in the main corridor. These boards listed names and scores of every student who attended the year. He found his name at the very end with a mockingly cute score of 2%, but next to it was a full 100% on mid-term and full-year exams. He deliberately failed normal exams, scoring only a small percentage. Thanks to him, those whose score was low weren’t picked on, because no one would indirectly insult a son of a duke. Especially when that duke’s son was the infamous Dante Crimson. He scored those 2% only because he didn’t want professors to catch on to his schemes. He looked at the list of new students in his year. His eyes quickly found Kelit’s name. Kelit Merrin, major: Use of Mana and Magic, which meant that they would sadly have most classes together.

  “Sooooo will you make friends?” Iza also looked at the list. Dante gave her an annoyed look and, when she laughed it off, decided to attend the magical practice.

  He walked on the training ground late. The professor didn’t mind him at all, as everyone knew that Dante was there only to maintain perfect attendance. He sat under a tree, far away from the rest of the class, but in a place where he could still hear the lecture and see the training. He liked watching those; magic was scary yet strangely beautiful. He rested his head against the tree trunk and closed his eyes, while the old man was reviewing the last semester's theory.

  “As you know, mana is a key force in magic. Who can tell me why it is so important? Maybe Mr. Merrin?” Dante opened his eyes when the blond man yawned.

  “Mana isn’t a force. It’s like an extension of the body or another limb that can manipulate ‘magic’.” His voice sounded almost bored, like he had years of study and research already behind him. The professor looked surprised, because it sounded more like Kelit was correcting a student who was wrong than a student answering a question.

  “That’s precisely it, thank you, Mr. Merrin. It was a very easy and practical explanation.” The old man’s smile was stiffened, but polite. A few classmates started whispering something about how commoners, even those handsome like Kelit, are not supposed to be smarter than others, but Dante stopped paying them any mind and again closed his eyes.

  After a few moments, all voices blurred as he started to drift towards the dreamland. Suddenly, through that blur of voices and sounds the one sentence rang out, cold and clear:

  “Magic is a tool for the living.”

  That made him open his eyes. He felt a sudden headache. Class was in the middle of practice, so that wasn’t something the professor would have said. Dante wasn’t sure if that was the old man’s voice or if anyone around actually said anything. Maybe it was his mind playing tricks on him, but he could swear that he had heard that sentence once before.

  He looked around, all the present ghosts were occupied with their own self-affairs, even Iza was talking to one, who was called Hans. Dante could remember the names of all the ghosts, but he never knew the names of his classmates. Hans was literally impaled by a sword. When Dante asked him about it, the ghost brushed it off as an unlucky accident.

  Dante looked back at the practice, forgetting about the strange sentence. Kelit, who was standing on the side, looked incredibly bored. Like, he didn’t even want to be here. Gone was the big smile. Some nobles from the class pointed their fingers at him and whispered something with vicious smiles. Dante couldn’t stop rolling his eyes. It was like watching some exaggerated drama in the theatre. In that moment, Dante’s eyes meet Kelit’s. The commoner instantly smiled and started walking towards Dante. That surprised everyone. Dante mumbled to himself: “Oh, no.”

  Kelit didn’t make a show or anything, but the curious eyes followed him. It was like those people wondered what Dante would do. Would he be annoyed, draw a gun, or maybe just ignore the commoner? Iza and Hans curiously floated closer to the tree. The golden-haired man dropped next to Dante, their shoulders brushing as if by accident. Dante was sure it wasn’t one at all.

  “I’m really not great at that magic stuff. Have you seen that flop, My Lord?” He made a self-deprecating joke while trying to make conversation. Dante was apparently half-sleeping, so he didn’t see that flop. He answered crudely and short, sure that if he tried to ignore Kelit, the entire experience would only be more annoying for him.

  “No”

  “Yet so cold again,” a commoner whispered in a joking manner, wanting to get a reaction out of Dante, who remained unperturbed. Kelit picked up a dry stick and started messing with the dirt. “So, my Lord, why aren’t you taking part in class?” Dante fought an urge to roll his eyes and grit his teeth. He was sure that man knows exactly why, everyone knows. It wasn’t a secret. He answered with a tone that he was only using to teach Lady not to chase ghosts around.

  “I have no mana.”

  Kelit’s smile widened even though he had just spoken to him like a rebellious dog.

  “Oh, I understand, I have only a little bit of mana myself. Maybe then, my lord, you could teach me how to slack off and still look pretty?”

  That was the moment when Hans and Iza couldn’t hold their laughter anymore.

  “Is he mocking him or flirting with him?” Joked the impaled ghost.

  “It’s a bit of both. You should see Dante’s face in the classroom when he sat next to us. It was hilarious,” Iza added.

  “I’m sure he had a very cold expression,” Hans smiled with his teeth.

  Dante would love to retrod the ghosts’ teasing, but he couldn’t. It was so hard not to frown

  “First of all, you have to shut up, Mr. Merrin.” He answered, and the young man giggled. Dante could feel his jaw tightening. For him, the mocking wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was that Kelit seemed genuinely amused.

  Dante tapped his knee with his fingers in annoyance and slight shyness. He was never called pretty so openly. He looked at the crowd; they probably didn’t hear their conversation, because they were talking in measured tones. Those who were pointing fingers before now were talking pretty loudly.

  “Is that a commoner’s trash talking to Lord Crimson? Doesn’t it know its place?” Dante wanted to disappear like a ghost. Why do nobles find pleasure in picking on those with less money? It was so cliché that his tapping on the knee increased in speed. When a professor saw this movement, he shot him a begging glance. At first, Dante was taken aback, but then he realised that while doing so, his gun holster was peeking from under his jacket. He rolled his eyes deliberately to show the old man that he didn’t care.

  He stole a glance at Kelit, who just got called trash, and it. Even if Kelit was too cheeky for his liking, those words were crude and sour.

  “Our Goldy didn’t seem to care at all,” Izodora commented, while getting into his personal space, to watch his expression. The same expression that Dante had seen for a second changed into something sharper, even cold, as she got closer, but it was quickly gone. Suddenly, Izodora’s laugh was cut off into a yelp. She grabbed at her torso where the cut that sliced her in half was, then she retorted, sprinting behind Dante. As if he were her shield. “Ow, ow, ow!” She wrapped her arms around her human friend. Hans rushed to comfort her. “What was that?! It had been so long since I felt pain! Why did it suddenly hurt?! It’s so good that the air around you is cool and calming Gloomy.” In that moment, Dante forgot himself and looked directly at her with his brows furrowed. He caught himself before voicing the question.

  When he realised that Kelit was looking at him, he suddenly stood up and, without saying anything, walked off the training ground. Iza still clung to him, while Hans had to stay as he was tied to that place. Dante was worried and wanted to ask what happened, even if that meant that he was leaving the lecture in the middle.

  Everyone watched him leave, and after he was gone from their sight, the whispers started. “That commoner is done for,” “What a waste of a handsome face,” and the rest was rather unpleasant, directed only toward Kelit, whose smile never withered and maybe became more curious. Peter approached him with a worried expression. Even though he knew Kelit for only a few days, he was a good soul who worried about his friends a great deal. His eyes darted between the already gossiping nobles and Kelit.

  “Kelit...maybe you should...just keep your head down.” The lavender-eyed man flashed him with yet another dazzling and confident smile.