"Hello, Senior," Simon began, his voice polite. "I’m sorry to bother you while you’re sleeping."
He received silence.
Simon tried again. "We’d like to take the empty beds, if that’s alright with you."
Still no reply. Lena, who had followed them in, trembled as she clutched the hem of Simon’s shirt. "L-Let’s just go, Simon. He’s just like they said..."
Just then, from a gap in the blanket, a single bloodshot eye glared out at them. Dick swallowed hard, and Lena stumbled back, her face pale with fright.
"...First-years."
Finally, the blanket was thrown back. A man with a lean but well-defined physique sat up with a rustle. He had sharp eyes, and a vivid scar cut vertically through his bloodshot right eye. His bare torso was a roadmap of smaller scars.
’Dangerous.’ That was everyone’s first impression. As he glared, Dick and Lena instinctively grabbed Simon’s arms.
"...Drop the ’Senior,’" the man rasped. "I’m a first-year, too."
"Then... Kajan."
"Just Kajan." He brushed his bangs back, revealing a nacing gaze that seed capable of murder. These were not the eyes of a teenager. "I don’t know how long you’ll last at this school, but rember two things. First, stay out of my business. Second, don’t be loud before I fall asleep. Once I’m out, you can dance or sing for all I care."
"Oh! So that’s a yes?" Simon asked, unfazed.
"Permission or not, there are no empty rooms. Soone was bound to move in eventually." Kajan lay back down and pulled the blanket over himself.
A mont later, the sound of steady breathing filled the silence. Kajan was asleep. Simon and Dick exchanged glances before heading out. Lena, the last to leave, carefully closed the door behind them.
"We’ll take this room," Simon announced.
In the end, they settled on Room 409.
"Are you really going to be okay?" Lena asked, her face etched with worry.
"Yes, we’ll be fine," Simon assured her. "He doesn’t seem like a bad person."
Lena nodded and checked their nas off on the list before inserting their naplates into the holder on the door. "Alright, Room 409 it is! If... if he gives you any trouble, please let know. I’ll report it to the dorm supervisor imdiately."
"Thank you for your concern."
After parting with Lena, Simon and Dick chose their beds and began to unpack. Dick took the one closer to the door, while Simon settled into the one on the inner side, nearer to Kajan. They made a bit of noise, but Kajan didn’t stir, sleeping like the dead.
"Is he really not waking up?" Dick wondered, suddenly emboldened. He dropped a textbook on the floor.
A loud thump echoed in the room, but Kajan remained oblivious.
"...He really ant it when he said we could do whatever we wanted once he was asleep."
"See? Not a bad person."
Feeling much more at ease, the two finished unpacking.
"Simon! Let’s go take a shower," Dick suggested. "I saw a bathhouse on the second floor on our way up."
"A bathhouse?"
---
It was Simon’s first ti in a public bathhouse. The facility was large enough for over a hundred people, its floors and walls gleaming like gold, and its tubs overflowing with steaming hot spring water. Simon stood in awe under the showerheads that activated with the push of a button, then soaked in the bubbling water, letting the day’s fatigue lt away.
"Ooh, this is amazing."
After his bath, Simon walked up the stairs with a towel draped around his neck, a blissful, languid expression on his face.
Dick chuckled. "I’ve never seen anyone so amazed by a shower stall. Did you grow up in the mountains or sothing?"
"Sothing like that," Simon replied, rubbing his wet hair with the towel.
"Still, you could’ve tried to hold back the ’whoa’s and ’wow’s when you turned on the water. Rumors spread fast around here, you know."
"Was I really that bad?"
"It was no joke."
They returned to their room to find Kajan in the exact sa position, as if frozen in ti. Outside the window, night had fallen like a black velvet curtain. Drowsy from his shower, Simon collapsed onto the soft bed. A sigh of pure contentnt escaped him. It felt as if all the happiness in the world was concentrated in that single mont.
"Hmm, I’m so glad I ca to Kizen."
Dick chuckled at that. "Everyone wants to co to Kizen. Of course, whether we get to stay here depends on our grades."
"I heard there are only three hundred second-years."
"That’s right. The professors are going easy on us now because it’s the student protection period. But soon, it’ll be expulsion for poor grades, expulsion for lack of potential, expulsion for breaking the rules. Life at Kizen is survival." Dick propped his head on his arms and stared at the ceiling. "If you can just make it through the first year, you can get a position almost anywhere. But if you survive the insane competition and graduate... then you beco one of the movers and shakers of the continent. You can do practically anything, short of being royalty. Hmm, no, wait. A Kizen graduate could probably get a princess from a minor kingdom."
Simon smirked. "You want to beco a noble?"
"Not really. Life would be easier, sure, but that’s not my ultimate goal."
"Then what is?"
Dick made the shape of a coin with his fingers. "This."
For soone just saying they wanted to make money, Dick’s expression was incredibly complex. But since they had only just t, Simon decided not to press the issue.
While Dick was lost in thought, Simon channeled his mana into the ring on his finger. It glowed black as he pulled on an invisible handle. A Subspace portal opened on the floor, and his ’Island Ratman Skeleton’ set popped out—class materials he had bought on Campbell Road.
"Whoa! What was that?"
"Subspace," Simon answered simply, plopping down in front of the skeleton set. He opened the case and laid out the disinfected bones. A bone diagram was included.
Dick made a face. "Class ended hours ago, and you’re studying again?"
"I just don’t want to forget the feeling from class," Simon explained.
The competition against Hector in Summoning had been a whirlwind. He wanted to recreate that wondrous, intuitive sensation. First, he channeled Jet-Black into the magic circle on the skull, awakening the undead.
’Clack. Clack.’
The skull clattered its jaw, coming to life. Simon closed his eyes, heightening his synchronization with the construct. An array of possibilities flooded his mind. ’This ti, too, I’ll trust my instincts.’
He picked up bones number 5, 7, and 10, attaching them to the skull. The satisfying click as they snapped into place was a pleasure in itself. He built the spine, ford the torso, and continued down to the legs. Dick watched, mouth agape, as Simon assembled the creature with fluid, unhesitating movents.
"...Done!"
It took him thirty minutes to recreate the four-legged Irregular Skeleton from class. But this ti, it felt slower, and its gait was creaky and unnatural. It was a matter of imrsion. Assembling it in a relaxed environnt didn’t produce the sa flawless result. Still, Simon was satisfied just to have replicated it.
He stroked the undead’s skull. "Sorry about this."
Then, with a firm press of his fingers, he collapsed the skeleton’s torso.
The bones scattered in every direction. Dick jumped. "What are you doing? After all that work!"
Simon closed his eyes and focused. Sweat beaded on his brow again. Skeletons ford by summoning magic possessed a natural tendency to restore their previous forms—a principle officially known as ’Restoration,’ but often called ’Attraction’ in the field. He could feel the Jet-Black resonating within each of the fifty-three bones scattered around the room.
’Restore!’
His eyes snapped open. From every corner of the room, the bones flew through the air, clicking back into place on their own. What had taken thirty minutes to build now reassembled in a re fifteen seconds.
Simon let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
"...Still damn cool to watch," Dick muttered with a hollow laugh.
The restored skeleton padded over and affectionately rubbed its head against Simon’s leg. Simon smiled and stroked it.
Next, he began assembling the standard Island Ratman Skeleton according to the diagram. He didn’t just follow the numbers; he contemplated the logic behind the sequence, questioning why bone number 11 followed 10, and jotted down his insights in a notebook. This was the standard, honed by generations of necromancers, and he felt a thrill of discovery with each new understanding, a sense of gratitude for the knowledge they had left behind.
He tried swapping bones 25 and 31. "How’s this?"
The skeleton moved its arm and shook its head with a clatter. He was learning that anatomical logic didn’t always translate to the most effective arrangent for an undead’s movent.
"...Mmm."
Dick, who had been dozing, rubbed his eyes and sat up. "You’re still at it? You’ve really taken a liking to Summoning, huh?"
"Yeah, it’s fun." A smile touched Simon’s lips. "I can’t wait for the next class."
Dick yawned and crawled into bed, but Simon’s night was far from over. He opened his ’Introduction to Summoning’ textbook and began a proper study. ’The basics of the undead.’
He was still thirsty for knowledge. The skeletons his father used to help the villagers, the one Lorraine had used to subdue the gangsters... what was he lacking compared to them?
’Clack! Click! Clatter.’
He continued to reassemble the skeleton, over and over. He got his restoration ti down from fifteen seconds to ten. But on his seventieth attempt, sothing different happened. A dark, bluish Jet-Black fla flared to life in the skeleton’s empty eye sockets—sothing that hadn’t happened even in class.
The skeleton with burning eyes turned its head to look at him.
Simon t its gaze. His first day at Kizen continued late into the night.
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