As soon as Ruvian stepped into the lecture hall, a shift rippled through the steep rows above him. Eyes turned. Dozens of them. Some curious, others indifferent, a few unreadable. Their stares pressed faintly on his shoulders, but he didn’t care. He moved with the same natural pace.

His eyes swept the hall, looking for a person.

‘Corwin. There he is…’

Near the back, partially slouched in his seat like someone trying to blend into the shadows. Ruvian’s boots brushed softly against the floor as he moved toward him. He slipped into the row quietly and took the empty seat beside him. ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ NoveI[F]ire.net

In front of him, the rest of Class E from Hall B filtered in from the main entrance, drawn along by instinct or habit, perhaps unsure if they were following his lead or just looking for a place to sit.

The room became even more quiet.

But Ruvian’s thoughts had already moved elsewhere. He thought about Hall A. About the other side of the hall, where the narrative had likely unraveled in a way no one present was prepared for. It didn’t take a genius to know who the catalyst would’ve been.

‘Julian. That alone made the fallout inevitable.’

Ruvian thought, a little worried.

In the original manuscript, Zian Herga had been present in that same hall. He was meant to be the scholar who cut into Julian’s match when it turned into a prolonged punishment.

‘Back then, Julian had taken things too far.’

‘Hammering Class E students even after their spells had dried up and their knees gave up. Zian had stopped him. That small act, unremarkable at first glance, had become the turning point.’

Ruvian recollected his memories.

From that moment on, Julian had fixed his attention on Zian like a beast scenting a rival.

But now?

Zian wasn’t here. He hadn’t shown up on day one, nor any day after. He wasn’t in the seating chart, wasn't even etched into the system’s narrative. It was as if the story itself had folded him up and removed him neatly.

That was what bothered Ruvian. Not the absence itself, but what filled the gap it left behind. The plot had always been malleable. He knew that. Characters slipped in and out, scenes twisted and reformed.

‘But Zian’s role wasn’t something minor.’

His interference had been a point of divergence. Without him, the story would have had to pick a different pressure valve.

And that was what Ruvian truly wanted to know.

What had taken Zian’s place?

What had the narrative offered instead? What new consequence had it conjured for this branching timeline where the protagonist is missing?

“R-Ruvian… H-hi…” The voice came out small. Corwin sat stiffly, shoulders raised a little too high, eyes flicking forward but never quite meeting his.

Ruvian turned his head slightly, glance at him, then gave a simple nod. He leaned back in his seat and then he spoke in that usual calm tone.

“What happened on your side, Corwin?”

Ruvian waited in silence, not pressing but not looking away either. Corwin sat beside him, unnaturally straight, his body was too tense to relax.

“I… I don’t know where to start,” Corwin muttered, not looking at him. “It’s… I’m also trying to make sense of it, to be honest.” He rubbed the edge of his sleeve, his voice was quiet, as the memory itself hadn’t quite settled yet.

Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

Ruvian could tell. It was less hesitation and more like someone staring at the pieces of something shattered, unsure which part to pick up first. Still, Corwin straightened his shoulders a little and he tried.

“There were six matches. Only six and all of them went to Class A. They dominated all of the matches. Most of the participants from our side didn’t last a minute.”

“B-before anyone realized what was happening, they were already down. Almost… all of them had to be carried to the infirmary.”

Corwin laughed, but it was short and hollow.

“It was… shocking. Terrifying, even. The difference between us and them... it’s not small. It’s not something that hard work will fix in a few months. It’s huge.” Corwin sighed.

Ruvian didn't say anything as he absorbed the words carefully. The image painted itself easily enough in his head.

‘No wonder the room felt thinner than usual.’

He hadn’t counted the bodies when he came in, but now, thinking back, there were fewer. Not drastically so, but enough. A few quiet absences, only to be noticed once you started paying attention. No one had made a fuss, but the missing seats spoke louder.

Behind them, he could hear quiet murmurs. The rest of Hall B, now seated and settling in, had begun to whisper across rows, trading questions and fragments of what had happened in their respective hall.

Ruvian glanced toward the front.

The lectern remained empty. No one had stepped up. The same haze of disinterest from faculty clung to the space. The wall clock ticked steadily, and the minute hand now sat fifteen past the hour.

‘The time for the next lecture had already passed. As expected, no one had come.’ Ruvian thought sourly.

Ruvian turned his eyes back to Corwin.

“By the way,” he said quietly, as if asking about something mundane, “what exactly happened during Julian’s match?”

Then, the question made Corwin freeze. The question hit like a crack in glass. His face lost color, in that unmistakable way where the blood seemed to pull back from his skin.

Even without turning around, Ruvian could feel it.

A few students behind them had gone quiet as well. One or two stopped mid-conversation. Others lowered their voices instinctively, glancing their way without saying a word.

'Why are they always overreacting?’ He sighed.

Corwin’s mouth opened, then closed again. He looked down at his knees like the answer was scrawled there. When he spoke, the words came slowly.

“Julian… didn’t show any mercy. From the moment the match began, he was—”

Corwin stopped, swallowed, tried again. “It wasn’t even a fight. It was brutal... Our classmate was already down. Everyone could see he couldn’t go on, but Julian just kept going. Spell after spell. Strikes without pause. It's crazy.”

He rubbed the back of his neck.

“I don’t understand why Instructor Veliana didn’t stop him. She was right there... just standing.”

‘Well, I was questioning the same thing as I read this part of the novel. I mean, she was the one who planned this. Why would she want to stop it?’

“But… even crazier, someone did stop him.”

'What?'

Then, Corwin suddenly said something that contradicted what Ruvian thought wouldn't happen in this narrative timeline.

That made Ruvian stunned.

His chest tightened, just slightly. His curiosity, now leaned forward.

‘Someone had stepped in? That shouldn’t have been possible. Only named side characters dare to go toe to toe with Julian. But Silvena, Calyra, and Rosalin were all with me. I know that for certain, so none of them were in Hall A.’

That left few options.

‘Loden? No. It didn’t fit.’

Ruvian narrowed his eyes slightly.

‘He doesn’t interfere with things that bring him trouble. He wouldn’t step into something like that… not unless he had something to gain. And right now, he doesn’t.’

So then who?

‘Don’t tell me… an unnamed side character? Someone the story never even gave a proper introduction to? That’s ridiculous. That would mean…’

Before he could form the question aloud, the answer arrived.

Literally. The classroom door opened.

And a girl stepped through.

She moved without hesitation, as if unaware of the eyes that followed her. Her uniform was the same as theirs but entirely indifferent to appearance.

Her beautiful hair was long, almost black at first glance, but in the light, a muted violet sheen traced the edges, catching the color just barely. Like ink watered down until it almost disappeared.

Ruvian turned slightly in his seat, his gaze sharp.

Corwin spoke again.

“T-there she is,” he said quietly, as if pointing toward something uncertain and significant at once.

“She’s the one who stood up to Julian.”

Then, with a strange edge to his voice, like he wasn’t sure if he was impressed or still shaken by it—

“Violet… That's her name.”

Suddenly, as the girl scanned the rows above her for an empty seat, her gaze caught Ruvian staring at her calmly.

For a few suspended seconds her eyes locked with Ruvian’s. They were amethyst, vivid and luminous, like polished gems catching the light. Flecks of violet shimmered in their depths, delicate yet arresting.

‘Those enchanting amethyst eyes.... I’ve read them once before, written in the margins of a story.’

Ruvian had been trying to uncover which of the scholars in Class E was Violet—the forgotten named character who vanished from the story after chasing Zian—ever since the first day of orientation. Still, he hadn’t pressed the matter; there had been little urgency then, and far more immediate concerns to occupy him.

All in all, it seemed his speculation had been right, she was Violet. He knew it for sure due to her eyes. Yet one question crawled on him: why would she risk herself by standing against Julian? What is she trying to gain from that?

‘Hmm, what an unexpected turnaround...’

'As I thought, there are more to Violet's story. Interesting.'

PP = 1360

ME = 190