"Sorry," Naomi said imdiately. "I didn’t an to sit next to you without asking. I can move if you want."
"You’re fine," I said.
"Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother."
"Naomi."
She looked at .
"You’re fine," I repeated.
She nodded. Relaxed slightly. Smiled again.
God, she was sweet.
Too sweet for this place.
The kind of person who’d apologize for existing if you gave her half a reason to.
I checked my phone. 7:58 AM.
The room was almost full now. Students still filing in. Finding seats. Separating into house sections like opposing armies.
The door at the front of the room opened.
A woman walked in.
I recognized her imdiately.
Dr. Vivienne Cross.
House Amber horoom teacher. Hunter Theory instructor. Owner of a PhD in psychology and a body that belonged in an adult film.
She was tall. Five-eight maybe. Long dark purple hair that fell in loose waves past her shoulders. Sharp violet eyes behind thin-frad glasses she absolutely did not need. Red lipstick. Perfect makeup.
And a figure that made every other woman in the room look underdressed by comparison.
The blazer was tied below her bust like a crop top. The white shirt underneath was buttoned but tight enough to show everything.
A black pencil skirt ended mid-thigh. Fishnet stockings. Heeled boots that added two inches.
She moved like she knew exactly what effect she had on people and found it amusing.
Every male student in the room stopped breathing.
So of the female students too.
Dr. Cross walked to the front of the room, set her bag down on the desk, and turned to face the class.
She smiled.
"Good morning," she said. Her voice was smooth. Warm. The kind of voice that made you want to listen even if she was reading a phone book. "Welco to Hunter Theory. I’m Dr. Vivienne Cross. You can call Dr. Cross or Professor Cross or Vivienne if you’re feeling brave."
Soone in the Sapphire section laughed nervously.
Dr. Cross’s smile widened.
"This is a compound class," she continued. "Which ans House Obsidian and House Sapphire will be learning together for the next nine months. I expect you to treat each other with respect. Save your rivalry bullshit for the simulations."
She said bullshit like it was a normal word.
I liked her already.
"Hunter Theory covers the fundantals," Dr. Cross said. She walked across the front of the room. Her heels clicked against the floor. "Gate chanics. Monster ecology. Mana theory. Combat psychology. Basically, everything you need to know to not die like an idiot in your first dungeon."
She stopped at the center of the room.
"So of you," she said, looking directly at the Obsidian section, "think you already know this material because your parents are hunters or you grew up around guilds."
Her gaze shifted to the Sapphire section.
"So of you think hard work and discipline will carry you through."
Then she looked at the back row. At . At Naomi. At the other lottery kids scattered throughout the room.
"And so of you are just trying to survive."
She let that hang in the air for a mont.
"Here’s the truth," Dr. Cross said. "None of that matters. In this class, you’re all starting from zero. I don’t care about your family na. I don’t care about your house ranking. I don’t care if you’re here on a lottery ticket or a trust fund."
She picked up a tablet from the desk.
"What I care about," she said, "is whether you can think critically under pressure. Whether you can adapt when your plan falls apart. Whether you can look at a monster you’ve never seen before and figure out how to kill it before it kills you."
The room was silent.
Dr. Cross tapped the tablet.
"We’re starting with a diagnostic assessnt," she said. "Thirty questions. Multiple choice. You have forty-five minutes. This will not affect your grade but it will tell where you’re at so I can tailor the curriculum accordingly."
She swiped the screen.
Every student’s phone buzzed simultaneously.
I pulled mine out.
A notification from the academy app. Link to the assessnt.
I opened it.
Question one appeared on the screen.
What is the primary difference between an E-rank gate and a D-rank gate?
I stared at the question.
Then I looked at Dr. Cross, who was now sitting on the edge of her desk with her legs crossed, watching the room with an expression that suggested she knew exactly how many of us were about to fail.
I looked back at my phone.
Two days left on the tir.
I had a diagnostic test to take.
A teacher who looked like walking temptation.
And a room full of future problems I’d need to navigate if I wanted to survive the week.
I tapped option C and moved to the next question.
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