Chapter 4: The Assembly

After wandering around the castle for a while, Karla and I arrive at the academy auditorium. Following the instructions, we drop off the small gifts we prepared in advance at the gift deposit area.

New students file into the auditorium one after another. The soaring hammer-beam roof stretches across the dome like a giant beast's skeleton. The deep brown oak gleams with a thousand years of luster. Both walls are hung with portraits of past deans and notable figures. Warm light from brass-colored wall sconces flickers. The space is instantly wrapped in the weight of history.

The atmosphere is too serious. The chattering new students, upon entering, instinctively lower their voices or fall completely silent, quickly finding seats.

I spot George Stanley, sitting alone in a corner in the last row. Unlike the casual sweatshirt he wore when we first met, this time he's changed into a relatively formal gray knit sweater and a long navy windbreaker, making him look handsome and sharp, dignified and refined. It's just that the area around him seems protected by an invisible barrier—no one dares approach.

It seems he's not just rejected by Karla, but isolated by everyone. However, he sits up straight and proper, his expression calm and composed, carrying a distinctive noble air.

Before long, the heavy doors open, and a middle-aged woman in a black robe and gold-rimmed glasses walks in quickly. Five men in robes of different colors follow in single file and take their seats at the podium one by one. All eyes instantly turn toward the stage.

"Welcome, new students!" The middle-aged woman says in a somewhat flat voice, "I am the new student dean, Brandy York..."

The mandatory new student orientation process is similar to the human world: the dean's speech, introductions by various key leaders. It's just the accent that gives me some trouble. I've long known that the magical world and the human world share the same language system, but the accent difference is quite big. Also, in the final section of the dean's speech, he delivers a passionate address in a language I completely don't understand.

I'm totally lost. Out of the corner of my eye, I glance at Karla and the students around me. Many of them are listening with passion and excitement. Remembering the awkward moment when I didn't even know the spell to close the gate upon entering today, I feel a bit frustrated.

I want to quickly fit into this world, but it seems I've already lost at the starting line.

The leadership speeches that depress me finally end, and Brandy steps up to the microphone again: "Next is the new student dormitory lottery. This year we've changed things up by combining the lottery with the new student gift exchange. Each new student gift has a dormitory number on it."

A short-haired girl in the front row asks curiously: "Is it a mixed lottery for guys and girls? How do you make sure male and female dorms don't get mixed up?"

Brandy glances at her and says flatly: "New student dormitory arrangements... are not separated by gender!"

The whole hall erupts. The magical world is the same as the human world—males and females are clearly different. But even though everyone has their own single room, co-ed living is really too bold. Isn't the academy afraid of...

"However!"

The hall falls instantly silent. This dean sure knows how to control a crowd.

She pauses, her sharp eyes scanning the room. "Anyone who becomes pregnant or gives birth during their studies, or causes a female to conceive, will be stripped of their Academy of Magic student status. Your descendants will lose eligibility for enrollment forever. Forever!"

This warning tone scares the new students for a moment. Next, everyone steps forward to draw a number, then goes to the gift deposit area to claim their gift according to the number.

To my surprise, the gift I draw is actually a box of chocolate—the exact one Karla was so eager to buy earlier.

My heart skips a beat. I look at the delicate greeting card's message: Wishing you all the best. George Stanley.

So he bought it as a small gift. His handwriting is clean and sharp, neat and strong, with a classic noble quality. It matches his outward style. I don't know if it's really true that handwriting reflects the person.

We all prepared homemade small gifts in advance, at least to let new classmates feel our thoughtfulness. Did George buy chocolate as a last-minute substitute because he knew everyone rejected him? But a box of enchanted chocolate that helps with magical learning seems more useful to someone like me who's a bit behind at the starting line.

I scan the crowd and find that unlike the others rushing eagerly to claim their gifts, he's waiting leisurely for the crowd to thin out. I don't know if he senses my gaze, but while playing with a crystal in his hand, he suddenly looks up. His deep blue eyes meet mine.

I smile faintly. I gather my courage, cross through the noisy crowd, and walk toward him.

At this moment, Karla calls out to me: "Dear Thelma, what gift did you draw?"

I tell her honestly: "It's that limited-edition enchanted chocolate from the magic shop."

Karla glances at the box in my hand and immediately recognizes it as the one George bought just moments ago. Her face darkens.

"I told you not to go near him. Why won't you listen?"

Her bossy tone makes me somewhat uncomfortable. Still, I patiently say: "Dear Karla, if I receive a gift and don't say thank you, I'll feel bad. Don't worry about my safety."

"Suit yourself!" Seeing she can't talk me out of it, Karla warns me again: "But I'm telling you not to eat it. Who knows what kind of magic he put on it or what he added after buying it."

I sigh inwardly. People's prejudice really is like a mountain, weighing down until it makes you paranoid.

I was about to say "I can judge for myself," but I sense a powerful presence slowly approaching. I look up. George has somehow walked toward us.