"Another room with fake lights, huh?" Arvard thought to himself as the lift doors opened.
Vampires from Classes 2 and 3 were scattered across the large, empty room, chatting in small groups.
Suddenly, a bald man in a red tracksuit appeared out of nowhere.
"Everyone, form a line. Now! And Albert—the new student—come here," he barked.
In a matter of seconds, the students snapped to attention, forming two straight lines. Arvard walked calmly toward the man.
"What's with that look in your eyes?" the instructor asked, narrowing his gaze.
Arvard considered whether ignoring a teacher would be considered disrespectful. He answered without emotion, "What do you mean?"
Students started whispering among themselves.
"Is he blind or something?" one muttered. "He doesn't even flinch looking at Mr. Oliver."
"Shut up," Oliver snapped without even turning to face them.
"Pardon me," Arvard said politely. "But why did you call me here?"
"There are some exams you need to go through," Oliver replied, eyes still fixed on Arvard's.
Then he turned to the class. "If anyone thinks they can improve on their last score, follow me. This is a golden opportunity."
The room erupted in quiet murmurs. Most looked reluctant.
Suddenly, Sasha stepped out of the line.
Seeing her, Alfred followed. His bangy-haired friend joined as well, and Mai followed next. Even Tania, Sasha's friend, stepped forward.
At that moment, the lift opened again, and Saina walked in.
"What are you doing here, ma'am?" Oliver asked.
"Nothing much. Just wanted to see how my class is doing on their path to becoming perfect vampires."
She moved to stand beside him.
"I remember Albert's form specifically stated: No practicals. Some personal issue. Mr. Biltus himself signed it," she whispered—not quietly enough.
Oliver sighed. "I know. But a power test won't kill him."
Then he turned to Arvard. "Wanna give it a shot?"
Arvard looked at Saina, whose face was barely holding back a laugh.
"I will," he said.
They entered another room. A large machine stood against the wall, equipped with an orange cushion and a screen to the side. It was a power measurement device. A punch on the cushion would display a score on the screen.
Oliver activated the machine via a tablet. "Ms. Poreak, you go first."
Mai stretched, then stepped forward and punched the cushion. The screen lit up: 1998.
"Only ten points more than before," Oliver said, clearly disappointed.
"Next. Mr. Yannier."
Arvard remembered hearing that name for the first time from Alfred's father. Yannier stepped forward without warming up and landed a solid punch.
3989.
"Sixty points better," Oliver muttered.
"Ms. Sasha Polenk."
Sasha stepped forward, stretched briefly, and punched.
3203.
"Good. Two-hundred-one point improvement. Impressive," Oliver said with a nod.
Then, turning to Arvard: "Your turn."
Arvard approached the machine, thinking. Even with the rosary that suppressed his powers, he needed to hold back. He aimed for a modest score—around 2000.
"Punch now," Oliver said.
Arvard hit the cushion.
5997.
"How?" Oliver whispered.
The room went dead silent.
Saina just grinned. "Cool."
Arvard stepped back, unimpressed. Today's generation really is weak.
Sasha walked over, laughing, and softly punched his chest. "You never told us you were so overpowered."
Arvard just smiled.
Mai looked too embarrassed to approach him. Alfred, meanwhile, stood frozen, burning inside as he watched Sasha joke with Arvard.
"Moving on. Trisha, you're up," Oliver said.
Trisha punched after stretching.
2087.
"Better than before… Good," Oliver said distractedly, still reeling from Arvard's score.
"Now Alfred. Your last one was the highest in the first year. But Albert just broke the school record."
Pressure built in Alfred. He had to win Sasha back.
He stepped up, stretched like a trained athlete, and locked eyes with Sasha—who was now laughing with Arvard.
He punched hard, giving it everything he had.
3980.
"Sixty points less than before," Oliver noted.
Alfred turned, crushed.
"Life can be hard sometimes," a voice whispered.
Saina appeared beside him. She placed a comforting arm around him. "Don't worry. I think he wouldn't—"
"Ssshhh," Alfred said, brushing her off.
Oliver stepped forward. "Albert has officially set a new record. He is now the most powerful first-year student."
Everyone—except Alfred and Oliver—gathered around Arvard, congratulating him.
"Let's move to the summoning room," Oliver announced.
Saina gave Arvard a discreet signal: Say no.
"I think I'll pass, sir," Arvard said.
Oliver turned, surprised. "Really? I wanted to see your summoning bird."
"Sorry. Some family stuff," Arvard lied smoothly.
"Fine. Daily training it is," Oliver said, turning away.
Saina leaned in. "Actually, the real reason I came here…" She whispered into Oliver's ear—loud enough for Arvard to overhear.
"He missed the last few periods due to some… issues. Maybe it's best if he skips physical activity today. You know what I mean?"
Oliver said nothing, just motioned for the students to follow him, face twisted into his usual scowl.
As they left, Saina sighed. If only Oliver had sent him back to class… we could've gone to the beach. Alone.
"You know," said the bangy-haired boy to Arvard, "what you did to Alfred was unexpected."
"What?"
"He planned to impress Sasha by scoring the highest. But your punch ruined that."
"I'm not interested in Sasha that way. You can tell him that."
"I know, I know. You seem like a one-girl type of guy. Not like me. I'm Peter Yannier—the biggest playboy around."
Arvard chuckled. "Yeah, you're definitely something."
As they brought up the rear of the group, Peter held out a hand. "Let's be friends?"
Arvard took it. "Alright."
"And don't mind Alfred. He's not a bad guy, just obsessed with Sasha."
"I know. I've got nothing against him."
Just then, Oliver called for Arvard. They stopped near a short wall with a sliding metal door in the center.
"This is called Dodging the Balls," Oliver explained. "Wanna try?"
Arvard hesitated.
"Mr. Koneal, demonstrate," Oliver commanded.
Alfred stepped inside and positioned himself on a big red 'X.'
Cannons emerged from the walls.
"Difficulty level: 6," Oliver said.
The cannons activated, firing color-coded heat-tracking balls.
Alfred started dodging expertly, running and weaving through them.
"They'll shoot anything with a heat signature," Sasha explained. "Even vampires, despite our low body heat."
"And the paint?" Arvard asked, watching closely.
"Removable. So no worries about your clothes—wait, are you going in like that?"
"Yeah. Maybe I'll pass," Arvard said, faking disappointment.
"What? Why?" Oliver asked.
"No gym clothes. Also not feeling great."
Oliver sighed. "Fine. You can rest—for today."
After Alfred finished, exhausted, Oliver congratulated him. "Good job. Room for improvement."
Then he turned back to Arvard. "Sure you're okay?"
"I just arrived yesterday. Haven't rested properly."
"Alright. Rest today."
They moved to the summoning room, a fake garden with tall grass, obstacles, and artificial trees.
"Why not summon?" Mai asked Arvard as they watched others prepare.
"My familiar's… arrogant," he admitted.
Sasha laughed. "So? That's not a crime."
Oliver overheard. "This class helps build bonds with familiars."
"But where I'm from, a disobedient familiar is shameful," Arvard replied.
Oliver stepped closer. "What problems does it cause?"
"He's aggressive, disobedient… appears without my will."
Oliver nodded. "Can you summon him now?"
Arvard hesitated. Around him, other students summoned bats—mostly false vampire bats. Peter's was a vulture.
"It's okay," Oliver reassured.
Arvard stepped forward and extended his arm. A red light flickered—and a black raven appeared.
Oliver's eyes lit up. "A raven. Rare… but valuable if trained."
Sasha laughed. "Mine's a crow!"
The raven screeched and took flight, soaring above the room. It pooped on some students before dive-bombing Arvard. He caught it mid-flight, and it vanished in a blink.
Oliver laughed—shocking the students.
He raised his hand and summoned his familiar—also a raven.
It flew elegantly, dodging rings, bursting balloons, and returned carrying one by the string.
"Ravens are difficult," Oliver said. "But if you respect their will, they'll fly with yours."
Arvard smiled. "So… you'll help me?"
"Of course," Oliver replied. "You're strong, but I'll make sure you learn how to handle that strength."
Later, on the third floor, Arvard headed toward the men's restroom.
As he stepped out, he found Karen waiting—having just exited the women's restroom next door.
"Hey, I didn't see you return to class after the break," Karen said, glancing at Arvard.
"Yeah, after I left those guys, I just went back to my room. Had a bit of a headache," Arvard replied casually, lying as easily as breathing.
"Oh?" Karen tilted her head slightly, pretending to be surprised. She already knew why he was called away—but she wanted to see if he'd lie.
Arvard let out a forced laugh. "They just told me to stay away from the girls. Even named a few, very specifically."
"Let me guess—Mai and Alissa?" Karen asked, feigning curiosity.
"Yeah. Them, and a few others too." Another fake laugh.
"Really? Who else?" she asked, a little too eagerly.
Arvard shook his head. "Nope. I don't like ratting on people."
"Are they your friends?" Karen pressed, stepping a little closer.
"No," Arvard replied simply.
"Then it's not ratting," Karen smiled. "It's just sharing details with a friend."
"You mean I should consider you a friend?" Arvard asked, starting to walk again.
Karen fell into step beside him. "Sure. Me and Alissa already do."
Arvard glanced at her. "Her too?"
"Yeah. Alissa sees everyone as a friend," Karen said, smiling to herself.
Suddenly Karen stopped walking. Arvard turned to her. "What happened?"
"Our classroom," she said, pointing left. "Don't you have that special class right now?"
"Ah, right. I forgot," Arvard replied with his usual fake laugh.
Karen gave a small wave. As she walked into the classroom, she thought to herself, He's nice… but something about him still feels off. Even his laugh sounds fake.
A few steps behind, Arvard passed her and disappeared down the corridor.
Inside the classroom, Mai was already seated, while the teacher read from their English textbook. Alissa kept glancing toward the door.
The moment Karen sat down, Alissa leaned in and whispered, "When did you see him? And what were you two talking about outside?"
"He's nice... but something about him still feels off. Even his laugh sounds fake."
Karen didn't know it yet—but she was right.