'Hoh… so this is the main gate of the Northern Dawnchaser Academy, huh? Fancy.' Lohran mused, openly admiring the colossal golden-flaming gate.
He wasn't the only one awestruck.
The commoners around him stood flabbergasted by the academy's grand display.
Someone, driven by curiosity, even reached out to touch the flames.
"I-It doesn't hurt!" the young man exclaimed.
His discovery sparked a chain reaction, prompting others to follow suit, letting the golden fire crawl over their hands—some even stepping into it as if bathing in its glow.
Lohran, intrigued, extended his fingers, allowing the ethereal flames to lick his skin.
"Hoh, it really doesn't burn."
Satisfied, he snuffed out the fire and moved forward, leaving the commoners to their inexperienced wonder.
While the golden flames were awe-inspiring, Lohran immediately lost interest upon realizing they were merely for display.
He wasn't new to such tricks.
After all, even businesses back on Earth employed similar tactics to impress the masses—just in different forms.
And so, he stepped through the gate, moving along with the crowd as they finally wrestled their focus away from the mystical gates.
Their destination was clear—the registrar's office, where they would officially enroll.
Some ran ahead, brimming with excitement.
Others walked hesitantly, their steps weighed down by anxiety and doubt.
There were only a few, like Lohran, who strolled leisurely, taking in the meticulously arranged trees and flower beds that lined the wide, red-brick pathways.
Birds chirped softly, adding a touch of serenity to the scene.
If not for the moonless, starless sky looming overhead, it would have been perfect…
Lohran had grown somewhat used to it by now, so he didn't mind the imperfections much and could still appreciate his surroundings.
But then, a thought struck him.
'Hoh… but how could trees and flowers exist without sunlight?'
It was a question he wouldn't mind knowing the answer to, though he had no plans to pursue it too deeply—he wasn't fond of scientific crap.
Soon, he and the others arrived before a massive building—an architectural blend of modern design and ancient cathedral grandeur.
A rich blue carpet stretched from the entrance, subtly guiding new students toward their destination.
The hall's towering ceiling was upheld by four colossal pillars, each one intricately carved with four distinct insignias: Blades, Shields, Daggers, and Guns.
Suspended chandeliers bathed the space in a soft, ethereal glow, their light reflecting off the tall windows, further enhancing the awe-inspiring atmosphere.
Lohran looked around with a slight, appreciative grin as he went along with the other students, cruising through the blue carpet.
Soon, they arrived at what seemed to be a luggage checkpoint.
The process was quick—students simply handed over their luggage to one of the five staff members in exchange for a black, circular tattoo with a golden number at its center on their wrists.
Lohran waited in line for a few minutes before his turn came.
Once he received his number, he stepped past the checkpoint and into a vast, bustling function hall.
Several tables were set up at the very front, each with a long line of students waiting for their turn.
The red-haired runt grimaced.
'Ugh…not again…'
He didn't like waiting—not one bit.
Back on Earth, VIP treatment was the norm for someone of his stature; no one would have dared make a famous man like him stand in line.
Lohran glanced around.
Even the wealthiest-looking students were being guided into queues by academy staff.
There was no escaping it.
And so, with a sigh, Lohran queued up, resigning himself. This would take at least an hour based on his estimates, and quite possibly more.
But then, just as he accepted his fate…
"U-Uhh… hello?" a timid voice sounded from behind him, prompting Lohran to turn.
The owner of the voice was a tall fatty with curly green hair.
Lohran's brows inevitably raised as he recognized the young man—his plump face was unmistakable.
It was the same guy he had accidentally hit in the face with his bags back on the Dawnchaser Rail Transit.
"Oh, it's you. Sup?" Lohran greeted casually.
He had already apologized to the guy, so there was no need to make things awkward.
"Y-Young Master Lohran Neyvaris, correct?" the timid fatty asked, seemingly mustering whatever small amount of courage he had to strike up a conversation.
'Hmm? Why is this guy so nervous?' Lohran wondered. 'Wasn't it me who hit him in the face with my bags?'
"Yeah, that's me. How did you recognize me?"
"A-Ahh… I heard from the train staff…"
'Oh… right…'
"I see…How can I help you?" Lohran asked, this time with a hint of coldness.
He was an aristocrat, after all. People might try to get close just to take advantage of his status.
This was one of Garwin's reminders.
Sensing the unfriendliness, the plump young man trembled in fear.
Had he angered the aristocrat?
While he came from wealth, he was still a commoner—and Lohran was not.
But then, he remembered why he had approached him in the first place.
He wasn't here to grovel or seek favor… well, maybe just a little.
Hugging an aristocrat's thigh—that was the advice his father had given him.
If he played his cards right, the information he had might just earn him a place under the young master of the Minor Aristocratic House of Neyvaris.
He couldn't keep cowering away.
If he was left without a protector, he'd be the one to suffer!
A fatty like him was bound to be bullied.
His beloved mommy wasn't here to protect him, and with his family in slight decline, he had to start earning his keep to help his father.
Lohran, who seemed to be a rather approachable aristocrat—at least compared to the others he saw in the rail transit station—was his best bet.
Plus, they already met!
No commoner should dare mess with the underling of an aristocrat…right?
Summoning what little bravery he could, the plump young man spoke:
"N-No, young master. I just want to inform you that there's a separate queue for aristocrats, so you don't have to wait in line like this…"
Lohran froze.
On the other hand, the fatty tensed, his nerves spiking.
Had he said something wrong?
But then, to his relief, a wide, appreciative smile spread across Lohran's face.
"Oh, is that the case?! Hahaha! Hey, thanks for telling me, man! What's your name again?" Lohran laughed, clapping the plump young man on the shoulder in sheer delight.
He didn't have to queue!
Seeing the aristocrat pleased with the information he provided—even asking for his name—the timid fatty finally managed a small smile.
"A-Ahh! Yes, young master! Tibberdy! You can call me Tibberdy!"