Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Prone to bouts of unexplained random insomnia, Yuuta wasn’t unfamiliar with the feeling of absolute exhaustion despite surely being asleep for more than eight hours. His head was killing him, and his tongue was sticking to his teeth— no doubt dehydrated. And whatever surface he had passed out on was the most uncomfortable thing he could imagine.

“Alright,” he groaned. “Let’s do this. Let’s face the day.” He attempted to stretch his stiff limbs and pop his aching joints, but, as he began to lift his arms, his elbows ran into a solid surface above him.

“Damn it!” he hissed, wondering where he had squeezed himself into that was so dark and confining. Was he under his bed? No, he was standing upright now that he took a moment to test the range of motion of his neck.

Closet? He guessed, kicking his foot out to feel for his dirty clothes hamper or one of the boxes he had stored in his closet. He jumped in shock when the toe of whatever shoes he was wearing immediately connected with the wall, the sudden movement resulting in him bashing the back of his head against the wall he was resting upon.

“This is too small,” he realized. Feeling with his hands, he quickly discovered the space he was in barely offered enough room to extend his elbows out to his sides. The space between his front and back was even less.

He balled his hands into fists, pulled his arms back as far as he could in the tight confinement, and slammed into the wall he knew was in front of him but couldn’t see. A hollow boom echoed from his strike, so he was able to conclude (to his immense relief) he wasn’t buried alive. There was open air on the other side of this wall, now all he had to do was reach it. Lacking the upper body strength to brute force his way out, Yuuta had to rely on other means to obtain his freedom.

He turned sideways and realized, to his frustration and horror, he wouldn’t be able to get enough space to use as a runup to ram his shoulder into the lid of whatever box he had awoken inside. Instead, he turned until he was facing the direction of the surface his back had been resting upon; at least, he believed that to be the case. Yuuta braced his elbows against the back of the box and bent his knees, pushing off with his legs as he threw his entire body against the lid.

It still refused to budge, so Yuuta brought one of his legs up, wincing as his joints protested— he wasn’t the most flexible person around. With his right leg wedged between the back of the box and his own body, Yuuta pushed until he had enough tension to add his other leg, suspending him off the floor of the box between the walls. With all his strength, he pushed…

The lid came loose and Yuuta fell out backward, slamming onto the hard ground and knocking the air from his lungs on impact. He coughed and wheezed as his limbs pathetically flailed like an upturned turtle.

“Did… did he just…?” asked a voice.

Yuuta finally drew a breath, his arms and legs splaying out on the floor as he stared up at the ceiling. Wherever he was, it looked very fanciful; there was an elaborate chandelier hanging from the domed ceiling, long strands of glowing beads festooned to several pillars with the same ethereal glow emanating from the ornaments on top. He could hear running water close to his head and wondered what the source could be and if it was safe to drink.

“Are you alright?” Suddenly, a figure was standing over him and Yuuta leapt upright in alarm, ignoring the protest from his shoulders and back so he could scramble away.

The figure towered over him, wearing the strangest attire Yuuta had ever seen in his life. They looked to be male, based on their body shape and voice, but Yuuta couldn’t judge by their face since it was covered with a bird-like mask. The strange man’s eyes glowed an eerie yellow from the darkness beneath the eyeholes; this, combined with Yuuta’s inability to decipher the man’s expression aside from the frown on his lips, frightened the poor boy even more.

The man’s outfit wouldn’t look out of place in a gothic gathering, the palette mostly shades of black, blue, and purple. A high-collared jacket was draped across his shoulders like a cape, long black feathers adorning the shoulders like pauldrons. His waistcoat was adorned with glimmering beading and that, along with the keys hanging off his belt, the ornament on his top hat, and his white button-up long sleeve shirt, offered some light in contrast with the dark colors.

“Can you hear me?” the birdman asked. He must have noticed how frightened Yuuta was as he kneeled on one knee, laying his extravagant cane on the floor so the boy wouldn’t misinterpret it as a weapon. “Are you hurt? You hit the floor rather hard.”

“How did he get out of the Gate on his own?” Yuuta’s head darted to the side so he could look around the birdman, noticing they weren’t alone in this room.

Directly behind the birdman was a fountain, the source of the running water Yuuta had heard; past that was a cordoned-off bench where several figures had been sitting— most were standing and leaning against the banister to get a better look at him on the floor. They were all dressed in black and purple robes with gold threading, the shadow of low-hanging hoods hiding most of their faces.

Oh god, this is a cult. Birdman’s the leader— I’ve been abducted by a cult! They’re going to sacrifice me to their bird god! The fountain’s going run red with my blood! Yuuta scooted further away from the birdman until he ran into something solid, turning to see an open coffin— a floating open coffin.

“Coffin?” Yuuta squeaked out, his voice cracking and devolving into whimpers.

“It may appear so,” said the birdman, “but those are Gates: they represent new students leaving their old worlds behind as they step into new insight and knowledge.”

“Coffin,” Yuuta repeated, having not heard anything the birdman had said.

“No, not coffin, Gate,” the birdman insisted. “Are you feeling well, young man? You may still be under the effects of the comatose spell. It must have been incomplete if it wore off before I had a chance to open your Gate. You’re about a half hour early for orientation.”

“Has anyone ever broken out of a Gate?” pondered one of the figures sitting on the bench.

“He must be powerful if he was able to do so on his own.”

“Didn’t you hear the headmage? The comatose spell must’ve been incomplete and he woke too early. If the effects were lingering, then our new underclassman awoke in a dark enclosed space with no memory of how he got there. Of course, he would panic and break out; it’s completely understandable.”

“Regardless, he’s worth keeping an eye on if he was able to accomplish something no one else has in Night Raven’s history.”

“Ohhh, I wonder what dorm he’ll be sorted in!”

“Hmph, nevertheless, he is not adhering to the strict schedule of orientation— classes have not even started and he’s already causing trouble.”

Yuuta’s mind was a flurry of panic and too many unfamiliar voices. His vision was blurring and the birdman, having noticed the boy’s unfocused gaze, attempted to reach out to him. Yuuta noticed the gold talons at the ends of the birdman’s gloved fingers and shrieked loudly, slapping the hand away.

The birdman jumped in shock, yanking his hand away from Yuuta as if he feared the boy would try to bite him like an abused dog. But Yuuta’s focus was already directed elsewhere; specifically on his own body. When he slapped the birdman’s hand, Yuuta noticed he wasn’t clothed in the outfit he last remembered wearing; instead, he was wearing the same robes the people on the bench were.

That’s a good sign, right? They wouldn’t dress a sacrifice in the same outfit they wear, so maybe they want me to be a member? That’s still not good, but I have a better chance of escaping with my life.

“Can you tell me your name?” the birdman inquired. “Perhaps it’s best we get you sorted right away and then off to the infirmary for recovery.”

“Headmage, I protest!” exclaimed one of the robed figures. “All new incoming students are to be sorted whence the ceremony begins. I admit these are strange circumstances, but we shouldn’t make an exception for someone who is more than capable of waiting for the official start of the ceremony.”

The birdman turned away from Yuuta to address the robed figures, Yuuta’s comprehension of the conversation lost as his thundering heartbeat drowned out his surroundings. At the moment, none of the people in this strange room were paying attention to him; in fact, the birdman, the one who was physically closest to him, had stood up and walked a few steps away so he wasn’t shouting across the room to speak to the figures.

Now’s my chance! Yuuta urged his legs to cooperate, frantically looking around for his escape route. It was now he noticed the part of the room he and the others were occupying was merely the end of a long hall. Between him and the exit were rows and rows of empty benches and…

There were dozens and dozens of floating coffins along the walls and levitating high up near the ceiling, and if what just happened to Yuuta applied to all of them, then each contained a person. Were they all like him? Random teenagers and children snatched off the streets, knocked unconscious, and stuffed into coffins? Or was he the odd one out and all these people were willing participants in whatever ceremony this was?

If he wanted to make it out alive, he couldn’t risk contemplating too much on the other victims. Based on what the robed figures had discussed, it was exceedingly unusual for someone to escape from their coffin by their own ability, which meant he was a rarity and could be the only hope of saving the rest if he fled and contacted the authorities. If he lingered for too long, the birdman might catch him, and all the victims would be doomed.

His reasoning appeared to be the last motivation his body needed to cooperate. He leapt to his feet and sprinted for the door, the conversation between the birdman and the robed figures stuttering to a halt as they watched in disbelief as he reached the doors. They were so befuddled in fact, none of them thought to chase after him until he was long gone.

“Wait, come back!” Dire Crowley, headmage of the illustrious Night Raven College, shouted after the delirious student.

“Nice reflexes there, Crowley,” Leona Kingscholar mocked, the only robed figure who didn’t stand up from the bench the entire time.

If Yuuta weren’t terrified out of his mind and discombobulated by adrenaline, he might have admired the grandiose of his surroundings as he rushed down corridors and frantically chose directions at random whenever he came to an intersection. The halls were illuminated by an ethereal candlelight, brightening his path enough he could identify elaborate stonework indicating this building must be either old or belonging to some eccentric magnate. However, the light was dim enough to keep everything in a dusky veil that obscured the finer details and wrought havoc on his frightened perception.

He ran, dodged, weaved, and even tripped and stumbled until exhaustion finally brought him to an agonizing halt, lungs begging for air, but each breath stabbing like a thousand needles. Yuuta staggered to a window with panes bordered by intricate ironwork, which, he realized, made it more difficult to see out than if the glass panes had been larger and more uniform. Regardless, the sill was wide enough he could support his upper body against it.

As he leaned forward, the robes shifted and rubbed against the wall, reminding him of the strange garb he had been forced into somehow. Yuuta flipped around so his back was to the window and examined the outfit he had awoken in, wondering where the clothes he had been wearing absconded off to. If he recalled correctly (though his memory seemed a little foggy), he had been wearing a pair of sweatpants, a t-shirt, and an old hoodie he had stolen from his school’s lost-and-found. Even his shoes, a pair of sneakers that were just tight enough to start feeling uncomfortable, had been replaced with gold-tipped black-and-purple boots to complement the ensemble.

Okay, no one’s around and I can see them coming from a mile away since this hall’s so long; let’s take a minute and think this through. The last thing he remembered was walking down the middle of the street with a duffel bag stuffed with basic amenities and his few valuables. It was very late at night and he hadn’t been worried about being hit by a car, nor had he been concerned about his parents hunting him down, since an argument with his mother was what drove him from the house.

They never came looking for him, they always waited for him to come crawling back.

He had sought out a local youth shelter he had been to before, but there had been a sign posted it was at full occupancy. With few other options, and absolutely no desire to return home, he had ventured to a local park, avoiding some loiterers hanging around to smoke and drink, with the intention of camping out for the night in a drain tunnel or on one of the playground structures.

That’s where his memories became an inconsistent mess. He remembered his intention in finding a camping spot but had no memory of setting up an impromptu bed. He remembered avoiding the few other people hanging around the park after hours but couldn’t recall if any of them were wearing these robes. He swore he had heard a horse whinnying and the sound of clopping hooves, but that didn’t make any sense. The city he lived in didn’t have horse-drawn carriages; at least, he couldn’t remember seeing any around in the past— maybe it was a new tourist initiative recently introduced.

When had they jumped him? Had he fallen asleep somewhere and they grabbed him there, or did they knock him unconscious? His head didn’t feel tender, as if struck by a blunt object, but he lacked a decent reflective surface to check for any injection sites around his neck in case they got him with a needle. He looked to the window and could see the outline of his head and shoulders, but the glass was too transparent to see his full reflection. Whatever this building was, it was well cared for if the windows were so clean.

Through the glass, he was able to see a bright moon in the cloudless sky shining light down on a forest far below. It was difficult to see, but he was fairly certain the land ended abruptly in a cliff because there didn’t appear to be a shoreline between the land and the more distant water.

“If I’m not dreaming, then I’m far from home,” he mumbled aloud. That water was either the ocean or a very large lake, neither of which were close to his home city. The best they had were ponds and a river outside the city limits.

“Sneaking out from the entrance ceremony?”

Yuuta yelped and frantically searched up and down the corridor for whoever had found him, but there wasn’t anyone there. He kept himself pressed against the wall to hide, even looking out the window to see if someone was miraculously hovering there— after all, anything could happen at this point.

“Not even the first day of classes and you’re already causing mischief? But what does anyone expect from Night Raven students?” the mysterious voice mused wistfully.

“Where are you!?” Yuuta demanded.

“How rude! I’m right in front of you!” But there was no one there, even though the voice rang loud and clear. No physical person was in the corridor with him, so there must be a security camera and microphone somewhere.

“If this is some kind of joke—” Yuuta growled, trying to sound threatening despite his terror.

“Are you blind or simply cruel? The painting!” There was a woman in the painting— and she was moving and talking.

“This isn’t real,” Yuuta whispered, sliding down the wall until he crumpled on the floor, his hands pulling at his hair. “There’s no way any of this is real. I’ve got to be dreaming.”

Any irritation the woman in the painting had for his perceived rudeness faded; instead, she looked upon him with a sympathetic expression, recognizing his panic. “Crowley’s comatose spell must still be lingering; the after-effects can cause disorientation and loss of muscle coordination. I apologize for snapping at you and highly recommend you go to the infirmary.”

“Infirmary?” repeated Yuuta. “This place has an infirmary?”

“The school couldn’t operate without one, especially with how prone the students are to serious injury. Combine teenage recklessness, adolescent magical ability, and the general aggression typical of Night Raven students, and you have the perfect recipe for daily disasters, of which I have seen many in my time.”

“This is a school?”

The woman looked shocked by his question. “Dear me, you are confused. Come closer, let me look at your pupils in better light.”

Yuuta hesitated, still unsure if this was some strange trick, before cautiously approaching the painting. Upon closer inspection, he was able to see the woman had been designed in quite the gorgeous outfit with beautiful complimentary jewelry. The background of her painting looked to be a garden of some kind, with weaving vines bearing grapes around the edges and trees in the distance.

“Oh,” the woman blinked in bemusement, “your face…”

Yuuta jerked back, instinctively pulling the hood of his robes over his face to hide it.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be crude. I’ve been here a long time and seen all kinds of people come through these halls, but I’ve never seen your features before. It’s—”

“Ugly, I know,” Yuuta finished for her.

“Now, I wasn’t going to say that!” she reprimanded. “It’s not ugly, it’s… different. And sometimes different is a good thing. My name is Rosaria.”

“Yuuta Fujimori,” he introduced himself, remembering the basics of politeness.

“Even your name is different,” Rosaria remarked. “I’ve never heard anything similar. Where are you from? The Shaftlands? Sunset Savannah?”

Yuuta balked, staring at her in befuddlement. Neither of those places she just named sounded the least bit familiar, and she didn’t recognize the culture his name came from? He could understand someone being sheltered enough not to pinpoint the exact origin, but to have heard nothing similar? “Um…” he spoke up hesitantly, “my name’s a little misleading because my parents are immigrants and they wanted to preserve some of their culture but…” he trailed off, wondering if it was worth explaining.

“I see,” said Rosaria. “Well, one can’t expect to meet a person from every place in the world by staying in one location, regardless of how many students pass by. Now then, please lean in again so I may study your pupils.”

Yuuta relented and pulled the hood down to his shoulders so she had an unobstructed view of his face. He saw her gaze drift upward to his hair and knew she was staring at that oddity as well, but she politely refrained from commenting and returned to the task at hand. “Hmm, your pupils aren’t different sizes—”

“Isn’t that for concussions?”

“I’m not a healer,” Rosaria countered, “but it seemed like a good first step. Are you dizzy at all? Nauseous?”

Now that he had a chance to calm down from his vigorous run, Yuuta was feeling much better. He wasn’t lightheaded or wheezing anymore; in fact, he felt perfectly fine aside from being a little hungry and thirsty.

“You said this place was a school?” Yuuta asked.

“Yes, this is the main building of Night Raven College, a prestigious all-boys institution devoted to teaching mages to harness their magic.”

Yuuta backed away from Rosaria, exhaling slowly. “Now I know I’m dreaming, or this is an elaborate prank. There’s no such thing as magic.”

Rosaria looked affronted by his statement, one hand literally clutching at her pearls… or whatever her necklace was made of. “Young man, I don’t know where you’ve come from, but if you believe magic does not exist, then how am I speaking to you right now?”

She’s got a point, Yuuta acknowledged. “Well… then this is a dream and I’m imagining this place right now.”

“Then you would be one of the greatest mages to ever live if your imagination is this rich.”

“This? No, I’m not this creative.”

“Then how are you dreaming if you are unable to create the world around you?”

“I don’t know! Even if magic were real, I don’t have any, so why was I brought here?”

“You… don’t have magic?” Rosaria quieted, bringing one hand to her mouth as she considered this new information. Yuuta silently regarded her as she contemplated her next question. “How old are you?”

“Fifteen,” he answered.

“This is most unusual. You claim you have no magic and you’re too young to be admitted to the academy; enrollment requires incoming freshmen be sixteen at the beginning of the school year. Do you remember receiving your acceptance letter and being visited by the Black Carriage?”

“I don’t know anything about a carriage; although…” Yuuta paused, sifting carefully through his foggy memories, “I do think I remember hearing a horse whinnying, but I can’t be certain.”

“Either the comatose spell has had severe side-effects in you specifically, or a huge mistake has been made— but I don’t see how that’s possible. The Dark Mirror never makes a mistake. Oh, I know! We can settle this right now; show me your magical pen.”

“Magical pen?” Yuuta patted his chest, checking if there was a shirt pocket, or any pocket, that could house this mystical item.

“Around your hips, the little holster,” Rosaria instructed him. Indeed, hanging by a thin beaded chain strung about his hips was a key-shaped holster that was noticeably empty. “Ah…” Rosaria faltered, “curiouser and curiouser.”

“I might have dropped it while I was running,” Yuuta offered as an explanation, “and I was too panicked to notice if it was there to begin with.”

“You’ve certainly made a mess of your orientation. If you’ve calmed down enough, I feel it’s in your best interest to seek out the headmage, Dire Crowley.”

“Who?”

“The tall man with the bird mask and the overcoat.”

“The crazy birdman!?” Yuuta yelped. “No! He’s the leader of this cult! He wears claws on his fingers!”

“I assure you he’s a little… eccentric, and a tad too emotional, but he’s perfectly harmless. I’m sure he’s looking for you, so seek him out and explain you lost your pen, and the comatose spell has had a severe adverse effect on you. You might need to say it loud and clear multiple times; Crowley can often be hard of hearing once he goes on a tangent.”

“You… you promise he won’t hurt me?”

“As long as you don’t give him reason to; and even then, he’d merely restrain you since he’s a much more powerful mage than you are… if you are a mage at all.”

Yuuta wrung his hands nervously, wondering what he had done to deserve this. He had no knowledge of any school like this, which he expected would have some notoriety for its unconventionalities alone. Rosaria had also questioned where he was from, naming two locations that were unfamiliar to him.

“Where… where am I?” he asked. “I mean, I know I’m at Night Raven College, but where is this place located?”

“On Sage’s Island in the Land of Dawning.”

“I… don’t know where that is.”

“Southeast of the Sunshine Lands, west of the Queendom of Roses. Did you not take any geography classes?”

“It’s just none of these names are recognizable.”

“They’re the names of these countries universally spoken in the Common language of Twisted Wonderland.”

Twisted… Wonderland? Of course someplace with mages and magical school would have such a whimsical name, but it also helped explain all the confusion. Wherever this place was, it certainly wasn’t home.

Am I in a completely different world? A magical land where nothing I remember exists? He pinched himself, just to be sure, despite having felt plenty of pain breaking out of his Gate and running until his lungs nearly collapsed. The sharp pain only helped center him and reinforce this impossible reality.

“This isn’t a dream,” Yuuta stated affirmingly.

“Oh good,” Rosaria smiled at him, “you’ve begun to regain your bearings. Now, I know Crowley might have given you a fright, but he’s the best person to help you. I advise you to return to the Mirror Chamber.”

“Thank you for all your help,” said Yuuta. “I’ll be going now.”

“Good luck!” Rosaria waved him farewell.

Thanks Rosaria, I’m going to need all the luck I can get. This was the chance of a lifetime: the opportunity to start anew, with a clean slate, in an entirely new world. He didn’t care how he got there, all he knew was there were a myriad of new prospects available to him he wouldn’t have found in his old life.

However, this was a magical school and he definitely knew he wasn’t a mage; so, he couldn’t stay here, but that didn’t mean the rest of Twisted Wonderland wasn’t waiting for him.

This time, I’ll do it right! Everything will be for me and not for anyone else! No one breathing down my neck, no one claiming I’m worthless— I can make a fresh start with people who have no idea who I am or any trace of my past.

The main building corridors were a maze of confusion before he spotted a sign in the dim lighting and pulled one of the candles closer to read it. Once he saw they were directions pointing to different departments, he was even more reassured this was a school building despite its appearance. Now, all he had to do was find the exit and make his way into Twisted Wonderland.

It was still easier said than done, but he finally managed to track down the staircases which led him down into an atrium with a clear view of the massive front doors on the ground floor. Eager and excited for what the future could bring (for once), Yuuta nearly leapt down the stairs in his haste to reach the doors, laughing softly to himself as the true “Gate” to his new life loomed before him.

Something suddenly coiled around him, pinning his arms to his sides and stopping his stride in an instant. Yuuta shrieked as he squirmed and wriggled in desperation to loosen whatever this rope was, but it was fixed tightly around him and refused to budge.

“There you are!” The crazy birdman— Crowley— held the other end of the rope, winding it into loops with one hand as he approached Yuuta. He looked displeased if the frown on his face and the narrowing of the light of his eyes were anything to go by, but his features softened once he finally reached Yuuta.

“You had me worried, young man!” he scolded lightly. “The comatose spell has evidently had a harmful effect on you for some reason. In the past, I’ve seen students come out of the Gates dizzy, uncoordinated, and lacking some short-term memory, but it wears off fairly quickly and I’ve never had a student run away from the entrance ceremony before.”

“Look, I’m not a student, alright?” Yuuta argued, still wriggling his shoulders. “I was brought here accidentally; so, if you don’t mind, I’ll remove myself from your campus to save you the trouble. No need to contact my parents or anything, I’ll find my own way home— thank you and goodbye!”

“Nonsense!” Crowley smiled brightly now. “There’s no need for you to think so negatively about yourself; the Dark Mirror chose you, so you must belong here.”

“Well it… it made a mistake, okay? Trust me, I’m not supposed to be here.”

“In the many years I have served as headmage of this school, the Dark Mirror has never made a mistake. I realize you’re nervous, and the confusion brought on by the comatose spell isn’t helping, which is why I will escort you back to the Mirror Chamber. Aren’t I kind?”

Yuuta struggled to break loose of the rope one more time before Crowley retracted it on his own, placing his hands firmly on Yuuta’s shoulders to both ground him and lightly warn him against running off again. “If you’re ‘so kind,’” said Yuuta, “why did you tie me up?”

“That is my Lash of Love,” Crowley explained, steering Yuuta back toward the staircase. “I did not wish to inflict any harm upon you, but you already proved yourself unpredictable and potentially dangerous.”

“Because I slapped you? Come on, there’s no way that hurt.”

“It doesn’t matter if it hurt or not; your intention was to cause harm.”

“And if a bird-masked weirdo with metal claws on his fingers were reaching for your face, what reaction would you have?” snapped Yuuta.

Crowley paused, the two of them standing in some random hallway. Yuuta couldn’t see the man’s expression— or what little expression he was capable of showing— but it was obvious from Crowley’s voice he was hurt. “Now there’s no need for such insults.”

“Sorry! I… I’m sorry,” Yuuta exhaled, massaging the sides of his head with his fingers. “I’m just really stressed right now and don’t know what’s going on.”

“Then I’ll explain it to you, for I’m so kind!” Crowley cheerfully offered. Now Yuuta was beginning to understand Rosaria’s comment about Crowley being eccentric and emotional.

The headmage animatedly began to rant about the school’s history, often veering off into tangents about certain objects and painting they were passing by as he steered Yuuta to their destination, climbing higher and higher into the castle. Given Crowley’s enthusiasm, Yuuta wondered if there weren’t many willing to listen to him talk about the school’s history. Sadly, most of it was going in one ear and out the other for Yuuta, who did show interest in what little tidbits he managed to pick up; he was, however, too distracted by what was awaiting him.

“And here we are!” Crowley announced, stopping in front of the recognizable doors to the Mirror Chamber. “You were so kind to listen; not many students are interested in the school’s magnificent and storied history. Now then, the ceremony is almost over, so you’ll be the last to be sorted. I hope you’re ready for a big entrance.”

Crowley didn’t even wait for Yuuta to respond before dramatically pushing the doors open and entering the chamber, one arm wrapped around Yuuta’s shoulders to guide him. The poor boy immediately regretted this: at the sound of the doors opening, every single head in the room turned to stare at the unexpected arrivals. Yuuta was suddenly the center of attention, and he felt a piece of his soul die at the sight of all those curious eyes staring.

“Ah, gentlemen, I see you waited patiently for my return,” Crowley spoke to the robed figures standing near the fountain. Yuuta assumed these were the same individuals who had been seated on the bench from before, even if he never got a good look at their faces.

Now he was able, and he was shocked by some of their appearances. One of them had white hair with tanned skin, his head wrapped up in an ornate scarf of some sort. While the others either glowered, frowned disapprovingly, or remained neutral, he was grinning brightly, as if the sun itself empowered his smile— as if he were delighted to see Yuuta.

Another one that stood out was a tall figure with long blond hair that shifted to lavender at the ends. Their face was long but so beautifully made up, Yuuta couldn’t tell if they were male or female, though didn’t recall hearing any women’s voices when the figures had been speaking earlier. Also, didn’t Rosaria mention this was an all-boy’s school, or was he misremembering?

The one that shocked him the most was the tallest one there, a broad-shouldered man with ruffled brown hair and, what appeared to be, furry ears near the top of his head! As Crowley escorted Yuuta down the aisle between the long pews, the latter was able to also see a lithe lion-like tail lashing in displeasure from behind the furry-eared man.

“’Bout time you showed up, Crowley,” Lion-man griped. “We were all about to call it quits and move on with our lives.”

“How fortunate you found our wayward wanderer,” said one of the figures, the one with tousled silver hair and glasses. “I’m sure we are all eager to see where such an interesting individual belongs.” His gray eyes flashed beneath his glasses, and Yuuta felt the unpleasant sensation he was being analyzed for some reason.

“Could we please hurry this along?” asked Redhead Gray-eyes, glaring judgmentally at Yuuta. “The antics of this freshman have already upset the meticulously-determined schedule of Heartslabyul’s welcoming party.”

“Of course!” Crowley agreed, pushing Yuuta around the fountain to stand before a floating mirror the latter hadn’t noticed from his brief time in the chamber before. “This is the Dark Mirror, the magical artifact that extended its omnipotence across the world and chose you as one of the lucky students to attend this academy. All you must do is approach it and state your name when it asks.”

Right, simple enough. Crowley gave Yuuta an encouraging gentle shove before he stepped back. Yuuta glanced over his shoulder to see that most of the figures were watching his every move with interest.

Yuuta took in a deep breath and approached the mirror, gasping and sputtering when a mask-like face appeared in the inky-black surface of the glass which had previously not reflected anything. The face, eyeless and featureless, seemed to scrutinize him closely. “State thy name,” the face directed.

“Um… Yuuta Fujimori,” he complied.

“Yuuta Fujimori, the shape of thy soul is…”

It was as if the entire room were holding its breath, waiting for the Mirror’s answer. Yuuta wasn’t sure why this was such a big deal; the only one showing any curiosity toward him personally was Silver-hair, and he was willing to bet the other boy’s interest wasn’t a good thing. There was something too calculating about it, as if he were already setting up chess pieces in preparation for dealing with Yuuta.

Not that it matters. I won’t be here long once they figure out I got snatched in place of someone else. How else does this mess make sense? Hope that kid can find his way here; good luck, sounds like you’re gonna need it.

“Unclear,” the mirror finished.

A collective gasp followed by unfettered murmuring filled the room. Yuuta, brought back from his musing by everyone being shocked in unison, turned around to see what the big deal was. If the Dark Mirror could make a mistake in bringing him here, then he saw no reason it couldn’t make a mistake in trying to identify him; after all, if he wasn’t formally accepted, then he shouldn’t be identifiable in whatever system they have set up for welcoming students.

“What did you say? ‘Unclear?’” Crowley fretted. “How is that possible?”

“I sense not a shred of magic from this one,” said the Mirror. “Thus, no dorms are suitable for placement.” And with that, the face in the Mirror disappeared, leaving only Yuuta’s lonely visage in the reflective surface.