Chapter 12: The Roommate
As Fulan and Fayrouz left the garden behind, the grand entrance of the academy building loomed before them, its massive wooden doors standing tall, dark brown, and adorned with intricate carvings that hinted at centuries of history. The air was cooler inside, carrying a faint scent of polished wood and old parchment, as if the walls themselves held the echoes of countless generations of students.
Beneath their feet, the floor was crafted from high-quality wood, its smooth surface gleaming under the golden light of the lanterns that lined the walls and ceiling. The warmth of the wood contrasted with the academy's pristine white walls, creating an atmosphere that was both elegant and imposing. Dark wooden staircases curved gracefully toward the upper levels, their railings polished to perfection. Despite the grandeur, the space felt eerily quiet, as if waiting for something—or someone—to break the silence.
Only one figure stood in sight: a young boy, no older than nine, dressed in the same sleek black suit as the elderly butler they had encountered earlier. His brown hair was neatly combed, and his green eyes, sharp and observant, gave him an air of maturity far beyond his years.
Fayrouz, slightly taken aback, approached him with a hint of concern in her voice. "How can they make a child like you work in such a grand place?"
The boy didn't even blink. His voice, steady and precise, carried no emotion as he recited, "Your room number is 037. The person behind you is in room 243. Rooms below 200 are on the right—the girls' wing. Rooms 200 and above are on the left—the boys' wing."
Fulan, standing just behind Fayrouz, smirked. "He's good at his job, regardless of his age. Anyway, I guess this is where we part ways. We'll see each other again during the exam. Goodbye for now."
Fayrouz gave him a brief nod before heading toward her assigned wing. She moved through the silent halls, her boots making soft taps against the polished wooden floor, the golden glow of the lanterns casting elongated shadows along the walls.
When she reached room 037, a rich, familiar aroma greeted her—coffee. The scent was strong but pleasant, carrying a warmth that contrasted with the academy's structured atmosphere.
She opened the door to find a well-organized space. A narrow hallway led inside, lined with a wardrobe and a neatly arranged shoe rack. Beyond it, the room opened into a comfortable living space with two beds positioned opposite each other. Seated on one of them was a girl with long, golden-blonde hair, her green eyes lazily focused on the steaming cup in her hands. The spoon in her grasp clinked gently against the glass, a rhythmic sound in the otherwise silent room.
The girl slowly lifted her gaze, locking eyes with Fayrouz. A brief, tense silence stretched between them before she finally spoke, her voice smooth and composed. "It seems even the most prestigious academy in the world can't afford to give each student their own room... Hello, roommate. Want some coffee? This will be the first and last time you get to drink my coffee for free, so think twice before refusing."
Fayrouz moved to her bed with measured steps, her expression as calm as her voice.
A small, knowing smile curved on the blonde girl's lips. With deliberate ease, she pulled out another glass cup and set it on the table.
---
Meanwhile, Fulan stood in the dimly lit hallway, his fingers brushing against the cold brass handle of his room. The golden glow of the lanterns flickered against the deep brown wooden walls, casting shifting shadows across the floor. The air was thick with the scent of aged timber, mingling with the faint metallic tang from the lantern fixtures. A silence hung over the corridor, heavy and unbroken, save for the soft creak of the door as he pushed it open.
He stepped inside, letting the door close behind him with a quiet thud. For a moment, he simply stood there, his back against the solid wood, before slowly sliding down to the floor. He rested his elbows on his knees, his eyes shadowed with thought.
Tracking Menma particles? That's exactly what I was missing. Now, even if I get the chance to assassinate the King of Saita, it'll be impossible to get close to him as long as there are people who can track Menma. All my paths are blocked. The only way left is to become a high-ranking knight and earn a legitimate opportunity to meet the king. Only then can I carry out my mission...
His expression remained unreadable, but his thoughts painted a far darker picture. The kind, helpful boy who had acted like a brave hero now revealed his true colors—his intentions shrouded in secrecy. But was Fulan really the type to take a life so easily? And not just anyone—the King of Saita himself.
Who was Fulan, really? What was his past? If his goal was truly assassination, then who had sent him? And, more importantly… would he truly go through with it?
The weight of these unanswered questions hung in the air, making the silence in the room feel even heavier. And what about Fayrouz? Had Fulan been deceiving her all along? How would she react when she discovered that his true goal was to dismantle the very laws she sought to protect?
A sound—soft but distinct—broke the quiet. Footsteps.
Fulan lifted his head slightly, staring calmly with his black eyes at the floor of the room, he saw feet. He hadn't realized someone else was on the room until now.
Then slowly raised his gaze from the feet upward, and the scene finally became clear to him.
The boy standing there was about his age, with short, light blue hair and eyes of the same color. His gaze carried a quiet intensity, glowing faintly in the dim light—a subtle sign that he was prepared to use his ability at any moment. He wore a white shirt and black winter pants, his stance poised and ready.
"Finally, my roommate has arrived," the boy said, his voice calm yet edged with something sharper. "The person I need to crush to secure my spot in the academy..."
The room itself was built like every other in the academy, with a narrow hallway stretching three meters inward. A wardrobe, a coat rack, and a shoe rack lined the walls, partially obstructing the view of the main living space. Because Fulan was sitting by the door, he hadn't noticed the boy until he heard his steps.
Now, the light blue-haired boy stood five meters away, his posture indicating he was prepared for battle.
"Finally, my roommate has arrived," he repeated. "The person I need to crush to secure my spot in the academy..."
Fulan placed a hand against the door, slowly preparing to stand. "I understand that we're roommates and will be sharing this space, but what exactly do you mean by 'crushing me' to secure your spot? I don't think I'm your enemy."
The boy reached into his back pocket, pulling out what looked like thin, black boxing gloves. Sleek and delicate, they wrapped around his hands almost like bandages. As he slipped them on, he explained, "No, it seems you don't understand anything. But I'll be kind and explain.
"Last year, there were far more new students than this year's applicants. So many, in fact, that they had to put three students in each room. Of course, that was only for the first night. The next day, the trio fought. The people who had dinner together, thinking they'd be friends or roommates for the next three years, ended up eliminating each other the very next day."
His fingers curled into fists, the material of his gloves stretching over his knuckles.
Fulan's expression remained unreadable. "Let me guess," he said calmly. "You think they'll repeat what they did last year and make us fight until only one of us remains to claim this room."
The boy nodded. "I'm glad you understood quickly."
"But there's one thing that bothers me."
"What is it?"
"If we're really going to fight tomorrow," Fulan said, his voice even, "why do you look like you're ready for battle right now?"
The boy raised his fists, his stance shifting into that of a professional boxer. "I don't want to be eliminated tomorrow—no matter what. So I'll measure your strength here. If your ability is troublesome and poses a significant threat to me, I'll make sure to inflict critical injuries on you to secure my victory."
A faint smile touched Fulan's lips. "I admire how honest you are with yourself… and with me. I wish I had the courage to be as straightforward with others as you are."
The boy remained silent, his focus unwavering. Fulan realized that the fight had already begun, and there was no turning back. The white aura around his body flared as he prepared to defend himself.
ZAP!!
The boy with light blue hair moved like a bolt of lightning, his speed astonishing. But when it came to speed, Fulan was no amateur. He had trained to move at the speed of sound.
The boy's left foot shot out in a kick aimed at Fulan's face, but Fulan reacted quickly, raising his hands to block the attack. But he didn't just block it—he caught the boy's foot with both hands, stopping the kick in its tracks. The sound of the collision spread through the room as Fulan's white aura shook and shards of blue electricity spread through the air and quickly disappeared. The wind stirred through the once-quiet room, window curtains fluttered and danced in the sudden breeze."
The boy's eyes widened in shock. He had never encountered someone who could match his speed. But instead of pulling his foot back or launching another attack, he remained still.
Fulan released the boy's foot, his expression calm. "What's wrong? I thought you were going to cripple me to ensure your victory tomorrow."
The boy smiled faintly as his foot touched the ground. "There are many strange abilities in this world. Some people have disgusting powers that can make you unable to breathe or kill you with just a touch. I hate those kinds of abilities. I hate how someone weaker than me can win just by touching me. I prefer abilities that can be strengthened through hard work, like yours. You have a good ability. You deserve a fair fight against me."
Fulan removed his shoes and placed them to the side, walking further into the room. "In short, you're impressed by my ability and want to fight me? But you don't even know what my ability is yet. All I did was stop your kick."
The boy jumped onto his bed, picking up a book titled The Theory of Life Before Menma, pointedly ignoring Fulan's words.
Fulan sat down on his own bed, his dark eyebrows relaxed as he asked, "That book you're reading..."