Who The Hell Is Main Character?

"All right everyone,"

"You’re dismissed," Saige said.

"Practice regulation once a day. I will know if you skip it," although she meant to convey that to everyone, it oddly felt directed towards Marcellus.

Chairs scraped, and conversations rushed back into the hall.

Maeve’s phone buzzed in her pocket before she’d fully stood up.

[Union Notice — Royal Wing Residents]

Formal interview scheduling now available. Twelve Pillars representatives will conduct standard procedural interviews regarding the ongoing Brandt inquiry. Please confirm your availability window via the academy portal.

’Fuck...’ Maeve cursed in her thoughts.

"Something wrong?" Marcellus asked, watched her expression change in real time, and peeked into her phone.

"That looks like a normal procedure, two cadets went missing after all," Marcellus commented.

"Not this..." Maeve said, thumbing through the notification, and turned back to the page she was previously on.

"..." She then showed the screen to Marcellus.

[Duel Registry - Open Challenge]

Challenger: Rafe Pretoria (Rank 117) – House Pretoria, branch of House Romano.

Challenged: Marcellus Severan (Unranked) – House Severan.

Status: Pending Acceptance.

Terms: Standard Academy duelling code.

Marcellus read it twice.

"...Who’s this?" he asked.

"Pretorias are branch of Romanos. Romanos allied with Bishops last generation to rise in power," Maeve said.

"Oh...that guy’s going through lengths to get me out of your picture," Marcellus scoffed. "Well, I’ll think about it later, when’s it scheduled?"

"That’s...today’s date," Maeve said, tapping the timestamp.

"..."

[Accept / Forfeit]

Marcellus stared at the options for a moment.

"I don’t think you shou-"

Marcellus took the phone from Maeve, and went through the notification once again.

"What’re you thinking? He’s ranked almost in the top hundred. I don’t think anyone really bat an eye to your refusal," she said.

"Then I don’t think anyone would bat an eye if I lost either," he said calmly.

And tapped on the accept.

Phones buzzed around the hall the moment Marcellus accepted the duel.

It had only been that morning that the duel registry opened for the third generation.

First challenges of the entire year, most cadets still feeling out.

And already, before it was a start of the season, someone had gone straight for the Severan heir.

Word moved faster than either of them had time to react to.

"---did you see who just---"

"---Pretoria challenged HIM? Today?---"

"---no way he actually accepted, unranked doesn’t just---"

Maeve took the phone back from Marcellus’s hand without asking, thumb already scrolling through what looked like sudden flood of notifications.

"It’s already everywhere!" She growled, "f..!"

"That ... was fast," Marcellus murmured.

"You fu—Young. Master." She looked at him.

"Yes?"

"It’s scheduled for five hours from now."

"Oh," Marcellus nodded.

’Current Capacity,’ he thought.

[Current Capacity: ~30%]

[ETA 100: 5.5 Hours.]

.-.-.-.-.-.

The suite of Romanos in the Royal Wing was of dark theme. Wood paneling, heavy curtains, and a long table of black stone which was quite contrasting to the white and floor to ceiling window of Severan Suite.

A bottle of expensive liquor sat open near the edge of the table.

Rafe Pretoria stood near the window, with his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

He was twenty-two, tall, and sharp-featured, with a slight in his skin, dark hair kept short and an edge of irritation was visible in his eyes.

He wore a white shirt with sleeves folded over grey pants.

Across from him, seated with casual ownership in the largest sofa was Dante Romano.

Dante was a year older, broader, and quiet. Like someone who had never needed to raise his voice.

His skin was fair, hair were neat black, and uniform was immaculate with dark shirt, black pants, and violet blazer of the academy.

His assistant knelt beside him on the polished floor. She was a young woman with ash-brown hair. Her formal blouse was slightly disheveled, eyes were closed shut with some sort of fear. Dante’s fingers were twisted in her hair just tightly enough to keep her head angled, constantly petting her.

Rafe turned away from the window.

"He accepted," he showed the screen of his phone to Dante. "In an instant...Does he not know the difference in our ranks?"

Dante didn’t look particularly concerned.

He stayed silent while listening to Rafe, still focused on the soft brown-haired head below him.

"This win will just be a small gift to Bishop," Dante finally spoke.

"And I don’t think there’s a need to feel frustrated over something so mundane, I could consider that as a rebellious nature, after all Pretorias have failed Romanos on countless occasions," Dante said calmly and tilted his head.

Rafe’s jaw tightened at the remark, but he didn’t argue.

He knew better than anyone how Romanos are.

"The Bishop’s interest is not in your pride," Dante continued. "It is in the girl."

"Even the elders of Severan family would think twice before making a move against Bishop family, when even powers like us are allied,"

"And I personally do not think they would even consider to protect their heir, someone who has been pretty much useless all his life, isn’t that right?"

Rafe exhaled.

"He should have at least hesitated," he muttered. "Even a little."

"Heirs of families at Austerity...they’re all crazy." Dante spoke.

’I can...definitely see that,’ Rafe thought looking at Dante.

Heirs do not treat their assistants as their equal. But Dante...he was worse.

He didn’t even consider them human.

"They’ve lived a life where pride comes first, and such pride is often the cause of their inevitable cause." Dante continued.

"You just have to make sure that his confidence...his pride...it does not survive in the arena." He said.

"Simple...isn’t it?" he finally looked at Rafe.

Dante’s eyes were bloodred, with irises like slits.

Rafe held Dante’s gaze for moments. Then gave a short nod.

"I’ll handle it," he said.

"Good."

"Then you may leave," Dante said.

Rafe was irritated at this treatment. He’d been treated as a noble throughout his life, but now when he’s at a place where there’s a hierarchy of powerful families, he felt suffocated.

He moved, and had almost reached the door but turned around once hearing a soft sound that made him glance back.

Dante had not moved from the sofa, his blood red eyes still lingered at the empty space on the tiles. He released his assistant’s hair, and rested one arm along the top of the sofa.

The assistant’s hands moved immediately as if it was a norm.

She unbuttoned her formal blouse with steady, practiced fingers, then slid it from her shoulders and folded it neatly over the arm of a nearby chair.

Next came the skirt.

Then the rest.

Each piece of clothing was removed and set aside.

She stepped in closer and sank to her knees.

"Are you going to stand there?" Dante spoke sensing Rafe looking back.

’Fucking crazy...’ Rafe thought, and exited through the door.

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