Chapter Text
The giant gate marking the school entrance did a decent job of letting the teen want to turn on his heels and walk straight back home.
The whole situation still feels surreal to him. Just last week, Chan had prepared and studied for the exam that his teacher planned to let him take today, but instead of racking his brain over the overly complex questions his private teacher likes to create, Chan stood in front of an actual school.
To say that the boy feels overwhelmed would be an understatement.
He nearly falls as someone knocks their shoulder into him from behind.
“Hey, stop standing here! You're blocking the way.”
The boy pulls a grimace as he rubs his shoulder.
“If you saw me standing here, why could you not just walk around me?"
Bending down, Chan grabs his bag before dusting it off. A bundle of colorful keyrings jingles as he throws it back on his shoulder.
The noise of a busy school morning greets his sensitive ears as Chan nears the entrance. At first, the boy tries to avoid the elbows and bags from touching him, but sooner or later, the masses of students get a hold of him. Stumbling forward, he somehow manages to escape the crowds of students with a few steps to the side.
Chan finds himself standing near a large staircase, thankfully one of the less busy places. With wide eyes, the boy takes in the quantity of the building. The entrance leads into a giant main hall with parallel aligned sets of pompous-looking staircases leading upstairs. Near the end of the hall, the ceiling bends and merges into a glass front, granting a view into the inner schoolyard. There are various seating options and neatly kept flowerbeds outside.
There are students everywhere. Chan has never seen this many people with his own eyes before. Most of the couches and chairs are packed, and the small study tables throughout the hall are overflowing with notebooks and pouches, the sounds of paper rustling omnipresent. Most students stand together in groups, while others are busy on their own.
The volume of noises is hard on his ears. Chan looks around before going up the stairs. Chan soon realizes that the grandness of the school does not end here, and he searches through the hallways that remind him of a giant maze.
“ Why is it so hard to find the office? ”
Chan was certain that he had gone to the correct building, but for some reason, finding the teacher's office was tougher than anticipated. With every second where he couldn't find the office, he grew slightly more anxious.
The day before, Chan had arrived at the place where he would live from now on. No one had told him how long he would stay at the apartment. Looking around the place and feeling lost with the large bags leaning against the door, Chan had just unpacked the most necessary stuff to settle for the night. It had been a tiring task. Even though there was not much to unpack, the young boy couldn't keep his eye open much longer. To his luck, the apartment was completely furnished. Chan fell asleep as soon as his head met the pillow. He caught around four hours of sleep, but it was barely enough to make him feel well-rested.
He stifles a yawn as he keeps wandering around the hallway. After walking for a few more minutes, with no clue where to go, the boy comes to a sober conclusion. He needs help.
“I’m sorry. Can you tell me where I can find the teacher's office?”
Chan should have stuck to the basic rules when asking for help inside a school. Not that he would know them anyway, as he had been home-schooled all his life. Now, he knows to never ask for help from a larger group if he doesn't want to be ridiculed. When Chan realizes that he has made a mistake, the group of girls has grown silent. The girl who has her back turned to him looks over her shoulder. As soon as she sees him, her expression turns sour, as if she had bitten into a bad apple.
“Who are you?”
It sounds more like an accusation rather than a question. Chan raises an eyebrow at the harsh tone that the girl uses to speak to him. The girls surrounding her carry similar expressions as their eyes wander up and down on him, giving the boy a once-over. It made Chan feel very uncomfortable. He quickly casts his eyes away.
“Never mind, we got no time for you.”
She brushes him off, her friends following her as they stride through the hallway and out of his sight. Chan could only watch them leave, eyes wide in confusion, before glancing down at himself. His uniform looks like those of any other student around him. He even checked this morning, making sure that it was clean. No stains or toothpaste were on his clothes. They are spotless, as expected of a uniform he had never worn. He reaches upward to touch his hair, smooth banks laying orderly onto his forehead.
“Maybe something is stuck on my face?” he whispers as his hands wander downwards to check, slightly shocked that he might have walked around looking like a fool on his first day.
“Your face looks completely fine.”
Full cheeks and dirty blond hair are the first traits Chan notices in the student standing before him. Curious eyes wandered up and down but the other boy scanning him felt much different than the cold staring of the girls.
“You are new, am I right? And looking for the teachers' office.”
Chan nods silently.
“Go up the stairs and turn left. Walk down the hallway. It is the second last door on the right side.”
The boy does not look much older than him. Chan eyes him with curiosity but does not ask for his name. The other seems to sense Chan growing cautious, probably spooked by the earlier accouter with the group of female students.
"Nice to meet you. My name is Boo Seungkwan.”
Chan hesitates to take Seungkwan’s hand. The latter rolls his eyes and stretches his arm out further, grabbing Chan’s clammy hand and giving it a light shake.
“Thank you. I got a little lost.”
Chan laughs, hoping to overplay the awkwardness while taking his hand back and trying to wipe his sweat off on his pants without attracting too much attention. Seungkwan looked amused, lips somewhere between a pout and a smile, though Chan did not understand why the blond laughed at him.
“I could tell. See you around.”
“Yeah, see you.”
“ Nice, but a little quirky, ” thought Chan on his way upstairs. He later realizes that he had not introduced himself to Seungkwan. With the help of directions Chan got from the blond boy, he finally finds the office.
Not sure if it is allowed for him to go in, Chan knocks tentatively against the door. As he does not get an answer, the student hesitantly opens the door and takes a peek inside. The people in the room are busy. No one spares a glance towards the boy, who cautiously glances around.
Chan stood at the door, waiting, before he dared walk into the room. The student stands a little lost in the office, unsure where to go until he spots a young woman sitting near the windows. The honey-colored hair falls over her shoulders, hiding her face as she bends slightly over the desk, busy sorting her papers. His eyes ended up traveling back to the young teacher. As he had thought, she definitely looked the most approachable.
“Excuse me."
The woman looks up as he approaches and gives him a warm smile. “How can I help you? Are you a new student?”
She sounds kind.
There are so many students in this school. How does everyone know I am the new kid?
“Yes, I am Lee Chan.”
He gives her a reserved bow. The woman looks like she expects him to continue talking, but as Chan stays silent, she puts her papers down and turns to him instead.
“I am Miss Kim. You are probably Mr. Yun’s new student. Give me a moment. I'll help you find him.”
“Of course. Thank you.” Chan gives her another short bow and takes the chance to look outside the window. He could look over the whole school grounds from the office.
From what he could tell, the school complex contains four main buildings. The first building stands horizontally towards the school entrance and the street. Buildings two and three are positioned parallel to each other and located behind the first building. They look almost identical except for the annex growing out of the end of the third building. It holds the main library, which has a pentagon shape and owns several stories. Behind the fourth main building, which stays a little further from the others, are the training grounds and the gymnasium positioned. A little down on the left of the estate sits two luxury accommodations for the students who come from further away and live at the school. The school ground ends with the school garden and the greenhouses.
Fitting the pompous image, the teacher's office is also very grand. Although there are a lot of compact wooden desks and shelves everywhere, it surprisingly did not feel cramped inside. Mrs. Kim is soon done with her work, leading the new student through the office.
His eyes sting as he tries too hard to read the names written on the back of the folders as they pass the masses of shelves. Chan is not yet used to wearing contact lenses. The boy blinks a few times until the uncomfortable feeling in his eyes lessens. He doubts his folder will ever find a place between the other students and tears his eyes away from the shelves. Mrs. Kim slows down. Chan soon realizes their destination is the very vocal group of men standing in a half-circle at the other end of the office. His eyes fall on the enormous double-wing door behind them.
“ Principal office,” stands in flourish letters on the golden sign next to it.
The boy is surprised that someone notices them as they approach the group. The men seem very immersed in a heated discussion. The youngest-looking of the group glances around, only to dismiss the student with a short glimpse.
His attention is focused on Mrs. Kim.
“Mrs. Kim, how can I help you?”
If Mrs. Kim had been uncomfortable by the too-sweet-sounding tone, she overplayed her discomfort well. Chan, on the other hand, has to keep himself from fumbling with the ring sitting on his left ring finger. It was a nervous habit he developed over the years. He does not like to judge people based on their first impression, but Mr. Yun did not seem to care about showing his disdain freely.
“It seems your new student is looking for you, Mr. Yun. But he could not find his teacher.”
Mr. Yun’s expression turns cold as he unwillingly directs his eyes on Chan again, but he breaks his expression soon after as he smiles at Mrs. Kim. “Thank you for showing him the way, Mrs. Kim. You are as nice as ever.”
“Are you not going to ask him his name? He is your new student, after all.” Chan likes Mrs. Kim more than his new homeroom teacher, but he also wishes she would stop talking to him the way she did. Every word she says works like pouring fuel into a fire for whatever negative emotions Mr. Yun holds against Chan. The boy can feel something dark growing from deep within the man.
“Introduce yourself.”
It is an order.
Although the icy tone is nothing new to Chan, the boy bites his lip before giving Mr. Yun a bow.
“I’m Lee Chan. I’ll be in your care, Mr. Yun.”
“Lee Chan?”
The sudden silence after the mention of his name makes Chan look up. The men had split up, parting and making way for a gray-haired man who steps forward.
“Yes, Sir?”
“Lee Chan?” the older man asks again, and Chan confirms with a faint nod, freezing in his bow as he feels the weight of a hand on his shoulder.
The eyes he met seemed kind, but something felt off.
“You have classes soon, but before that, come and have a talk with me, will you?”
“Principle Hwa, -”
“Quit it.”
The men who had called out for the elder closed their mouths instantly. The older man is still looking at Chan. It was the second time this day that Chan felt incredibly uncomfortable. It gave off the feeling that the principal was examining him, searching for something.
“Come into my office.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Chan steps after the principal into the office, the massive double-winged wooden doors closing behind the two on their own with a soft click.
“Let us sit down.”
“Yes, thank you.”
Apart from the luxurious creme-colored leather couch standing in the center, the principal's office seems surprisingly down to earth. Maybe it stood in contrast to what Chan had been expecting.
The principal stands with his back to him, pouring himself a cup of coffee. Chan takes the chance to let his eyes roam around the office. He turns around once before he slowly sits down on the couch. The couch is softer than expected. Chan nearly falls back as he sinks into the soft cushion while sitting down. He quickly pushes himself up again and slides forward until he sits on the end of the couch, acting as if nothing happened. The student straightens his back and folds his hands neatly on his lap, a textbook example of an obedient student. He glances at the elder and relaxes when he sees that the principal is still busy brewing coffee. The boy takes the chance to look around some more.
‘ Hwa Jihwon, ’ read the name sign, sitting on top of the dark-reddish escritoire, illuminated by a small, out-of-place-looking Tiffany lamp. Bookshelves cover nearly every inch of the office walls. The last free inches of the room wall are complete with paintings of various sizes. The shelves are bending under the weight of hundreds of folders and books. Most of them are large enough that Chan would never start reading them if he ever picked one of them up. Other items are scattered all over the place, most unfamiliar to Chan.
What catches his attention is a mirror standing in the corner next to a painting of a sunflower field. Chan assumed that the object covered by a white bleached sheet had to be one. There is a small opening where the sheet didn't reach far enough to cover everything. Chan read somewhere that mirrors can turn black when they start desilvering, but the blackness inside the golden frame feels unordinary. The longer Chan looked at it, the more he could swear he saw something moving inside the black void.
Chan does not dare to ask what had happened to the mysterious mirror and decides to look around further instead. There are two large sets of bowed windows. One of them holds a door that leads out onto a small balcony. Chan could not see what kind of view lay behind the thick stonewall which borders the area.
“Do you know why you are here, Chan?”
Hot steam rises out of the cup that stands in front of him.
“I do not, Sir.”
He does not even like coffee. The cup is uncomfortably hot against his hands. Chan does not know what to take from the thoughtful expression on Mr. Hwa’s face. The man keeps looking at him like Chan is an enigma that needs to be solved.
The steam rises further, softly dancing through the air as it grows thinner and less visible until it disappears completely. Chan takes a small sip.
“Do you know why am I here, Sir?” asks Chan in turn.
Gray piercing eyes lock with his own. The student did not think he could sit up even more straight, but his spine proved him wrong. The director leans forward and takes his cup, never leaving Chan out of his eyes. Chan only sees now that a part of Mr. Hwa’s left pointer finger is missing. The boy quickly looks away, feeling the need to pretend that he did not notice. His fingers absentmindedly run over the floral pattern of his cup.
Chan takes another sip of his coffee to distract himself. He burns his tongue.
“To be honest with you,” began Mr. Hwa, as he kept giving him a curious look.
“I am not sure what I have expected you to look like.”
Chan freezes.
“As your dear father called me and asked for you to attend this school, I was about to decline. But then he shared a piece of information that perked my interest.”
The boy retains a neutral expression as Mr. Hwa calmly drinks his coffee. Seconds pass by, and Mr. Hwa keeps on observing him. Chan knew that the man was waiting for a reaction. He could keep waiting if he had expected him to spring up and run out of the room.
It's not like Chan didn’t think about doing it. It would be the next better option, though not very rational, rather than sitting in a room with someone who knows more about you than he should. He ignores the pain from burning the inside of his mouth and looks up with a stoic face.
“Who else knows?”
His voice carries through the room without an ounce of emotion. It feels unfamiliar even to him as his words chill the room. Mr. Hwa's lips turn upwards, the action well hidden behind the thin porcelain of the cup.
“No one other than me is aware, Lee Chan.”
As if he knew that his words come off like a threat, the director puts his coffee down again and openly smiles at the student. Chan didn't move an inch as he watched the man with the eyes of a hawk.
“You might be on alert now. That is understandable. But our interests are probably more alike as you would assume, young man.”
Mr. Hwa sounding so at ease while sitting in front of him angers Chan. It feels like the man is doing it on purpose. Flaunting the fact at him that Chan’s well-kept secret lies in his hands, additionally holding more information than Chan.
“What else did my father tell you?”
He listens to the story calmly. Apparently, Mr. Hwa got a phone call about a month ago.
"Imagine my surprise at the sudden request of Mr. Lee to let his beloved son attend the school."
Chan controls his expression, his jaw slightly clenched as he listens to Mr. Haw's words.
Mr. Lee's son, Chan, is a lovable child who had been home-tutored until now due to special conditions. His parents had felt bad for their son. The child was missing out on social life because of it. Now that he would turn sixteen years old, it felt like the right time for Chan to attend school together with other students.
“Until then, I did not know Mr. Lee had a son.”
Chan decides not to comment on that. He knew that Mr. Hwa had already counted two and two together. Humoring him by telling the man that his parents kept him a secret feels like Chan voluntarily makes himself vulnerable. He rather have the man guessing instead of affirming it.
“You must know that it is in our best interest to care for students with special needs. Keeping that in mind, I had to ask your father about your condition to provide you with the best studying experience.”
“It is not a condition.”
Chan knew he played right into Mr. Hwas's hands when he caught the man's smile. He wants to slap himself but cannot help getting defensive over the word. Even though the boy does not raise his voice, the anger he carries is very noticeable.
“Of course. I did not mean to offend you, Chan.”
The boy's jaw clenches. Chan reminds himself to stay calm, feeling his posture growing stiff. The fingers which had nervously played with everything within reach came to a sudden halt. He knew that if his father went that far, he would not have a chance to back out of this. The second his father decided to call Mr. Hwa, Chan had no other choice than to attend this school. He suppresses a sigh.
“As you might know, this school is focused on educating those able to use magic. But we also accept students with a great interest in magical affairs. Under certain circumstances.”
The aftertaste of the coffee lies bitter on his tongue.
“Like a scholarship?”
“That is indeed right. Several students attend the school through being granted a scholarship.”
Chan frowns at the words.
“Under certain circumstances?” he repeats the principal's words.
Mr. Hwa leans back in his seat.
“There are students who are not gifted but are interested in studying magic,” answers Mr. Hwa, his voice patient as if he was explaining something simple for the fourth time.
Not gifted.
Right.
Using magic is considered a gift.
Although the majority of the population cannot use magic, at this academy, they get treated like they are something out of the ordinary.
The absurdity of it has Chan baffled.
“Would you look at the time? We have drifted away from the important topics,” says Mr. Hwa as he looks at his expensive-looking wristwatch. To Chan, Mr. Hwa looks like he would rather keep playing with him, poking at sore spots and asking questions. Mr. Hwa taps a finger against his empty cup. A moment later, hot steam wafts out of it. The scent of freshly brewed coffee fills the room once again.
“To get back to the topic.” begins the older man, “I believe you would like to keep your identity hidden.”
The director sits back up, and Chan holds the eye contact. If he wanted to get a hold of his future school life, he had to act now.
“That is right.”
Chan waits for the, "however."
Mr. Hwa chuckles and leans forward, causing Chan to frown at his reaction.
“That is very pleasant to hear. I hope you will not misread my intentions, Chan. I am welcoming your choice with open arms. You should know that the comfort of my students is my greatest interest. I am convinced you are going to blend in quite well."
The director holds a look full of expectations as he keeps speaking.
"Your father did not tell me about the level of your abilities. I assume they are above the average.”
Chan has to keep himself from crossing his arms over his chest. The manners taught to the boy are hindering him from it. His instinct, on the other hand, tells him to shield himself.
“They are not worth mentioning. Attend this school under the pretense of being a gifted student.”
The moment Mr. Hwa showed interest in Chan, the boy made a decision. He would run away rather than reveal his identity willingly. If his father thought he could tell people, so be it, but Chan himself won't ever tell anyone who he was, what he was, and certainly not, what, he's capable of.
“You want to attend as a human?” asks Mr. Hwa with a frown and sinks back into the cushion.
Chan keeps himself from growing annoyed at the director’s tone.
“I believe all of the students attending are humans.”
“Of course, you are right.”
Mr. Hwa seems to be still perplexed by his decision. The disappointment is evident in his voice.
“I am going to attend under the pretense of having a scholarship. It is the easiest way for me to help keep everyone comfortable.”
He emphasizes the word comfortable, causing Mr. Hwa to raise an eyebrow, an amused expression playing on his pale features.
“I look forward to having a bright student like you attending this school, Lee Chan. It is going to be a pleasure.”
Mr. Yun did not look pleased when Chan came out of the principal office about thirty minutes later. It seems like the teacher had been waiting for him outside the office, perched against a desk with his arms crossed over his chest. He gave Chan a cold glare as soon as his eyes landed on him.
“We will talk again at the end of the week. I hope you take time to get used to our school.”
Mr. Hwa stands next to Chan after they stepped out of the office.
“Study well, Chan.”
Chan dislikes the look he's receiving and avoids the gray eyes by bowing towards the man.
“I will, Sir.”
“Good.”
The principal pats him on the shoulder, a sign of encouragement. Chan forces a smile. The older man walks back into his office, and the double-wing doors close behind him, leaving Chan in the care of his homeroom teacher.
“Come on now. At this rate, we will be late to class.”
“Yes, Mr. Yun.” Chan quickly walks after his teacher, his heart beating faster as he realizes he needs to introduce himself to his new classmates. He had never done something like that before.
On his way to his new apartment, Chan was excited about having classmates. He had imagined it more than once after the end of his private lessons. Right now, he could not bring himself to get excited over the thought as he had back then. Everything Chan feels is an incoming headache from the lack of sleep and breakfast. The nervousness did not make it any better. He had trouble standing up this morning and thus skipped breakfast. A decision he regrets deeply by now.
Chan wishes they would continue walking, but Mr. Yun is heading towards a classroom door. Chan knew that it meant that they had reached their destination. He steps after Mr. Yun into the room. The new student feels the stares as soon as he walks into the class.
When he walked around the school before, no one had paid attention to him. At this moment, however, over twenty pairs of eyes follow his every move with curiosity. Chan hopes his eyes do not look as irritated as they feel, the itch leaving him blinking a few times.
“Hello, everyone,” begins Mr. Yun, greeting the class. Chan stands quietly next to him, trying not to meet eyes with any of the students. He looks over their heads, trying hard to not look disinterested but also not coming off as aloof.
“This is your new classmate. Go on, introduce yourself.”
Mr. Yun gave him a bored look, fitting his equally bored tone. Chan hurries to introduce himself to the class. He is not keen on leaving a bad impression. He gives a quick bow to the students sitting before looking up.
“Hello, I am Lee Chan. Nice to meet you. I hope we get along well.”
While he introduces himself, Chan spots a familiar face, leaving him surprised. Seungkwan looks at him with a raised eyebrow, looking just as surprised as Chan, but gives him a tiny nod in greeting.
“Can we ask him some questions?”
Chan hoped, and highly expected, Mr. Yun to decline and tell him to sit down. Contrary to his anticipation, Mr. Yun agrees to the requests. The class used the chance, pushing their luck and asking everything that came to mind. Chan, unable to tell if they were sincerely interested or tried delaying the lesson by making him talk as much as they could, fights through the awkwardness of answering every single one.
They ask Chan where he comes from and why he changed school in the middle of the year. He explained that he lived in Iksan but moved to Seoul due to his father changing workplaces. He feels unwell as he answers. The first thing he tells his new classmates is a lie, but Chan reminds himself that he has to get used to it. He wishes he could tell them something else. Not even Chan knows why his step-father made his move to Seoul so abruptly and let him attend a school as soon as Chan turned sixteen. The thirst for answers lessened until few hands were left raised. Chan starts feeling not as nervous as he had before.
“Why are you all asking such boring questions?”
Chan directs his eyes to the boy who starts speaking, caught off guard by the aggressive undertone in his voice. The other students seem to have similar thoughts as the girl sitting next to him asks what he means, looking annoyed.
“Ask him if he's gifted.”
Chan is taken aback by the sudden change of atmosphere. The whispers and murmuring stop in an instant, the classroom turning silent. All eyes are on him, waiting for him to answer. He sees Mr. Yun glancing at him. Even the teacher's interest perks up at the question. As much as he dreads answering, Chan had expected the topic to come up. He should have been suspicious of the tameness that the questions of his classmates held earlier.
“Are you not going to answer? Just tell us already!”
Chan looks back at the boy, who glares at him with a threatening gleam in his eyes. The student asks him again, this time with his head cocked to the side as if he is ready to start a fight.
“Lee Chan, are you gifted?”
“Don’t be like that, Sejong. Of course, Chan is gifted. Why else would he be here?”
“In fact,” starts Chan, which causes the other student who spoke up, as well as the rest of the class, to look at him with an uncomfortable amount of anticipation. “I am not gifted.”
It took about five minutes for Mr. Yun and the threat of giving extra homework to the class to stop the murmurs. Chan still stands in front of the students, but while the topic of all their conversations is him, no one pays him attention. Or so he thought.
“Why do they allow another one to come to school if they are not gifted. What a waste of space.”
“Sejong, mind your words.”
Mr. Yun did not sound upset by the boy's way of speaking but was more bothered by the volume of it. Chan feels better knowing that the only free seat available lies the opposite of class.
“If Chan would hurry and sit down, we can finally start the class.”
The chuckles of the students make Chan flush, and his ears and neck grow hot as he passes by their desks. He sits down and quickly takes out something to write while Mr. Yun begins explaining the topics for the upcoming exam. The rest of the school day passes fast. During break time, several students approached Chan and asked him questions, some mildly offending, but he didn't let it bother him. He isn't sure why the students think so highly of themselves for being gifted, but after seeing the wealth of the school, Chan could assume what their backgrounds and social standings look like. Not as if he could hold it against them. His background isn't much different, with Chan coming from a well-off family.
“Who would have thought that we would meet again so soon.”
Chan looks up, the straw of his juice still stuck between his lips. He didn't even notice that Seungkwan’s seat was in front of his own. The latter sits on the edge of his seat, legs crossed and an arm perched on the chair’s back to support his head. Seungkwan looked at him with interest, but while the curiosity of his classmates made Chan uncomfortable, Seungkwan's curious eyes on him weren't unpleasant.
“How are you doing on your first day? Must be a lot.”
“It’s okay, I guess.”
When Seungkwan gives him a funny look, Chan realizes that his words and tired face fail to provide a convincing sight.
“Hmm, if you say so.”
Seungkwan nodded as he talked, his bottom lip pushed forward into a pout. It was obvious that he didn't believe anything that Chan just said. Chan scoffs at the reaction, a small smile creeping on his lips while shaking his head. He misses the amused look on Seungkwan's face as the other boy has turned around in his seat.
With Seungkwan’s help, Chan finds the way to the library to get the rest of his books. He tells the other boy he can go, but Seungkwan is persistent. The latter wishes him good luck carrying his belongings home while Chan unceremoniously stuffs more and more books into his backpack. Seunkgwan bids him goodbye as they leave the library.
On his way out of the school, Chan walks past a group of students standing near the entrance. After a short glance, he spots some of his classmates, but the other faces are unfamiliar. It seems like they are hanging out with some older students, and although Chan did not have much social experience, his gut feeling told him he better not stay too close to the group.
“That’s him! It’s the smartass new in our class.”
“Sejong, be quiet. He can hear you!”
“So what?”
The group of boys laughs, and several heads turn in his direction. Chan pulls a grimace and tightens the hold on his backpack, his steps getting faster. He glances around and jogs down the street, looking for the sight of a familiar school uniform. The boy cannot spot any of his classmates and deems it safe to pick up the pace. Chan runs back to the apartment, the door opening after the security system successfully scans his face. Chan slips out of his shoes as soon as he steps into the apartment, letting the backpack slip from his hand. His eyes widen at the loud thud when the bag hits the ground. He stares at the bag with muted shock before the realization hits him.
He had completely forgotten about the books.
"Can I get a noise complaint here?" wonders the boy as he unpacks the books and sets them on the wide desk. He looks at the place where he had thrown the bag, and Chan would not have been surprised if there was an actual dent on the spot where it had hit the ground. After checking that he didn't accidentally disassemble half of his apartment on his first day, Chan lets the jalousie of the window front down.
Technically, no one could look into the apartment as it was located on floor number twenty-one, and none of the neighboring apartments owned a similar height. But Chan couldn't help being extra careful. Feeling better after seeing every window covered, Chan goes into the bathroom to wash up. He pulls out his cell phone and connects it to the apartment's sound system. Music had always been the most efficient tool to improve his mood.
Chan folds the uniform and puts it away after dressing in a comfortable pair of sweatpants and a white t-shirt. While carefully removing his contact lenses, today’s events roll past his mind. It still feels surreal to the teen. He pulls the ring off his finger and sets it gently on the free space next to the sink before washing his face. His hand blindly reaches for the nearest towel to dry his skin, breathing in the comforting scent of fabric softener.
He was still coming to terms with not being homeschooled anymore.
Chan took the bunny hair band that helped hold the black curls out of his face. While still holding the towel against his cheeks, finding comfort in the softness, the boy glances into the mirror. Emerald-green eyes stared back at him.
A demon pretending to be a human in a school of magic users.
Chan puts the towel down and scoffs at his reflection.
"What a joke."