Extra's Ascent

Aldrich's entry into the classroom was met with an immediate, heavy silence.

As the door swung open, every set of eyes in the room turned to look at him—his classmates and the stern woman in the front of the room who stood behind the podium, wearing a formal outfit that screamed authority.

"So nice of you to join us so late, Mister Aldaman..." she said with a sharp edge to her voice, her eyes narrowing as she studied him.

Her gaze flicked to his silver hair—a trait unmistakably tied to the Aldaman clan, renowned for their exclusive bloodline.

Still, his name was unknown to her.

"Aldrich, ma'am," he replied, feeling a twinge of awkwardness.

He had arrived at the class already in session, and it seemed everyone else had been here long before him.

"Mister Aldrich Aldaman, the latecomer rebel," she continued, her voice laced with sarcasm.

"Seeing as you don't seem to care much about punctuality, how about you take my place today and enlighten the class on the use of Art?!"

Her tone was sharp and unforgiving, making it clear to Aldrich that this was not a situation to be taken lightly.

"Apologies, ma'am. It wasn't my intention to—"

"Intention?!" She cut him off with a venomous snap.

"Your intention as a student of Eldora Institute is to be up by five, thinking about how you'll make it to your first lecture by seven. Is that understood?"

Her voice brooked no argument, and Aldrich, sensing the storm that was building, quickly replied, "Yes, ma'am. I understand."

"If you understand, then what are you still standing there for, looking like a buffoon? What are you waiting for—a personal escort to your seat?" she barked.

Aldrich's lips curled slightly in a forced smile, but he quickly pushed the thought away.

No sense in making things worse.

Merely standing in her presence was daunting enough that any preplanned excuses left him be.

He hustled to find a seat as fast as he could, his thoughts lingering on how he'd managed to keep his cool under such a hostile greeting.

"And it's Professor Mariana to you, not 'ma'am,'" she corrected him, her eyes narrowing as she watched him scurry for a place to sit.

'Professor Mariana,' he thought, the name ringing a bell.

Her infamous reputation preceded her.

This was the same grumpy, no-nonsense professor from the novel—a woman who had a reputation for turning students into nervous wrecks, with a particular talent for putting rebels in their place.

He had gotten off easy this time.

Had it been any other day, she would've likely tossed him out of the class without a second thought.

Today, it seemed, she was in a somewhat better mood—or perhaps just too tired to carry out her usual brand of public humiliation.

The realization dawned on him as he made his way up the stairs toward the back of the classroom.

He passed rows of occupied desks before finding an empty seat near the window, but the spot came with one caveat? he would be sitting next to none other than Dante Pendragon, the golden boy.

No time for debate.

He couldn't afford to upset Professor Mariana a second time by staying too long to find a seat, so he took the seat.

Aldrich adjusted his chair, carefully shifting it away from the desk to cradle the familiar egg against his chest.

His fingers were tender with it, a silent promise of care that was hard to ignore.

He glanced around the room and quickly spotted his little sister, Saldrich, seated at the front among the other girls.

Aldrich tried to catch her eye, but she quickly averted her gaze, no doubt wanting to avoid drawing attention from Professor Mariana.

Figured.

He thought about calling out to her, only to quickly discard the idea.

Any attempt to engage with her would likely make things worse—for both of them, especially with the professor's watchful eye upon him.

Wanting to pay attention for real this time, his eyes caught sight of another familiar figure.

Fiona who is seated by his right, is separated by the space in between the column setting.

Aldrich wanted to send a greeting to her only to be ignored.

Believing he was ignored for the same reason Saldrich has, Aldrich did not pursue the matter.

He sighed inwardly and faced forward, knowing there would be no easy way to escape the tension.

Just then, Dante leaned toward him, speaking in a low voice.

"Tough times, huh?"

Aldrich couldn't help but glance over, his expression unsure. "What are you talking about?" he muttered back.

"I'm talking about your girlfriend," Dante said, his voice dripping with amusement. "Not cool how she's ignoring you like that."

Aldrich blinked in confusion. "Oh, her? She's not my girlfriend," he said, his voice faltering slightly as he tried to make sense of Fiona's recent behaviour. "We're just friends, I think…"

Dante raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Really? I thought you two were an item, seeing as how you were her escort at the cotillion."

Aldrich felt the heat rise to his face at Dante's casual observation.

He wasn't wrong, of course—everyone had seen him at the event with Fiona, but things had changed since then.

His relationship with her now was... complicated.

"I have a retentive memory," Dante continued, almost as if to explain his uncanny ability to recall such details. "Don't worry—I remember everything I see."

Aldrich simply nodded, though the thought of Dante's exceptional memory still made him uneasy.

It wasn't just a skill—it was more of an innate talent, one that didn't quite align with the typical mystic powers he'd grown used to.

Dante had a knack for picking up on things most people would overlook.

"Is it okay to treat your familiar egg like that?" Aldrich asked, his eyes catching the sight of Dante's familiar egg, casually resting against the desk, its fragile shell pressed against the wall as though it might fall at any moment.

Dante shrugged, unconcerned. "There's no specific way to raise them, so I guess it's fine."

Aldrich was sceptical.

He'd read through the detailed scrolls Stella had gone through just to ensure they treated their familiar egg with the utmost care, bonding with it from its earliest stages.

He wasn't about to let Dante's cavalier approach slide.

"And I think I'm better off than you," Dante added, glancing at Aldrich's familiar egg, nestled safely in its carrier. "They'd have to cut off my arms and legs, change my brain, and replace my eyesight before I could ever think of carrying one of those eggs the way you do."

Aldrich couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the comment, though his chuckle was stiff.

Despite Dante's lackadaisical attitude toward his familiar egg, Aldrich knew he was in the running to have one of the strongest familiars known to man—something that irked him to no end.

Before he could reply, a voice rang out across the room, loud enough to make Aldrich jump in his seat.

"Mister Aldaman and Mister Pendragon! I want both of you out of my class… NOW!"

It was Professor Mariana's voice. All other sounds in the room ceased at her command.

Aldrich and Dante exchanged a glance, both sensing that the real lesson was about to begin.