When Swift landed with the two of them on the plaza over a hundred meters ahead of the Integrated Tower, the sun blazed directly overhead. It was midsummer, already sweltering—but noon turned the heat oppressive.

Once Swift settled safely on the ground, Belka slid off his back and wiped sweat from her brow. As Illusionary Feather rolled down in his usual clumsy tumble, his palm slapped the pavement. *Sizzle—Aaah!* A sound like searing meat erupted, followed by a yelp.

“So hot! So hot!” Illusionary Feather frantically rubbed his scorched arm. Belka suppressed a chuckle and sent Swift away.

“Alright,” she said, turning to the still-complaining Illusionary Feather, “I’ll take you to the dorms now.”

“Where is it?” Illusionary Feather perked up, desperate for shade.

Belka didn’t answer. She simply grabbed his wrist and led him left across the plaza, past uneven clusters of buildings. Behind them stood identical structures stamped from the same mold. A sign read: *Freshman Dormitories*.

Nine stories tall, flat-roofed, and stark white.

Belka guided Illusionary Feather to a central dorm block. After consulting the administrator—a plain-faced middle-aged man—they received grim news. “Rooms are available,” he said. “Two hundred dragon coins per month. You know the rate, Belka Rohlin.”

“Only two hundred? Of course I know.” Belka waved a hand lightly. But when she glanced at Illusionary Feather, his sun-drained face had gone corpse-pale, like a zombie baked under three days of desert sun.

“I don’t have half a dragon coin,” he mumbled weakly. “Guess I’ll sleep on the streets tonight.” He turned to leave, but Belka seized his wrist. “Wait.” She tossed a small silk pouch to the administrator. “One room.”

The man handed her a key labeled “307” and watched as Belka dragged Illusionary Feather—now resembling a desiccated mummy—upstairs. “Pathetic man,” the administrator muttered. “Letting a woman pay his way. Though at least it’s not a love hotel.”

Inside Room 307, the space was bright and white-walled. Since freshmen hadn’t been ranked yet, no special treatment applied. A hallway stretched from the entrance. After kicking off their shoes, they padded down the wooden floor. At the end lay a simple, spotless room: bed, cabinet, desk, bookshelf.

Belka remained unimpressed, but Illusionary Feather revived instantly. He lunged for the bed—miraculously sturdy despite the impact—and buried his face in the pale blue quilt. He rolled like a contented dough roller, bliss painting his face.

*Gurgle-gurgle~*

His stomach growled.

“Hungry, little brother?” Belka’s gentle, elder-sister smile returned. She’d been startled by his antics.

“Mhm.” Illusionary Feather nodded into the quilt, oblivious to the summer heat. Belka spotted a cube-shaped device nearby—a magic-engineered fan. Its core glowed blue: an ice-attribute crystal. A tap on the metal plate activated it, blasting cool air. “I’ll buy lunch,” she said. “Don’t wander off.”

“Got it,” came the muffled reply.

After the door clicked shut, Illusionary Feather rolled over. “Ice-attribute, huh?” he murmured to the fan. “Perfect for summer.” He opened his mouth wide, savoring the icy breeze. *Heaven.*

When Belka returned, Illusionary Feather was asleep. The day had drained him: a half-hour walk upon arrival, getting blasted by shockwaves, endless hassles, and finally the scorching sun. Summer naps were only natural.

But an empty stomach still growled.

Belka set paper-wrapped meat parcels and two sealed wooden bowls on the bare desk. Her sisterly smile flickered—then twisted into a mischievous grin. She dangled a chicken leg under his nose. His nostrils flared; his mouth opened to bite—*whoosh*, she pulled it away, eyes crinkling with laughter.

After three tries, his eyelids fluttered open. Those drowsy, vulnerable eyes made Belka freeze—a fatal mistake. The chicken leg vanished. He politely returned the bone.

“What did you do while I slept?” Illusionary Feather sat up, still groggy.

“Ahaha! Nothing~ Just eat.” Belka deflected, flustered.

They shared lunch at the desk. Only one chair existed—and courtesy demanded Belka take it. Illusionary Feather stood beside her.

Chopsticks clinked. Suddenly, Belka looked up. “Which academy will you choose?”

He stood close—every step felt exhausting. Her uniform top hid most of her chest, but tilting her head exposed a glimpse of cleavage above the fabric. Illusionary Feather snapped his gaze away, voice strained. “Don’t freshmen get ranked first?”

“Ranking happens *after* choosing,” Belka explained, oblivious to his tension. “Schools test you, then reassign if you’re underqualified. Your choice comes first.”

“So it doesn’t matter?” He swallowed a mouthful of rice.

“Aren’t you worried,” Belka pressed, suddenly serious, “that jealous students might ship you off to some dump school?”

His expression hardened. *She’s looking out for me.* He changed the subject. “Can you get me info on good Level Five+ schools in the Mechanical Campus?”

“Of course!” Her warm smile returned. “So your mechanical rank is Level Five or higher? And you sound like a jack-of-all-trades.”

*—Did she figure it out? No. She deduced it from my words.*

“I wanted to join Yayang—the school we visited today,” Illusionary Feather backtracked quickly. “But that teacher rubbed me the wrong way.”

“The one who’s the principal’s nephew?” Belka’s eyes narrowed. “Strong, but insufferable.”

“If you could get me into Yayang,” he mused aloud, “just not in his class…”

“Easy. Rest today. We’ll register tomorrow.” Belka set down her bowl.

“Thanks.” He popped the last piece of meat into his mouth.

After clearing the desk, Illusionary Feather sprawled across the bed. Belka joined him without hesitation. Hours of observation convinced her he’d never take advantage.

“W-wait! What are you doing?!” He scrambled to the edge, yelping.

“Shouldn’t *I* be asking that?” Belka’s expression stayed calm despite his panic.

“Never mind.” He sighed. “Do schools charge tuition?”

“*Seriously?*” Belka rubbed her temples. “Yayang costs ten thousand dragon coins yearly. Same for all top-tier academies.”

*—Does this newbie think education’s free?*

“I don’t have a single coin. Can you… lend me some?”

“How much?” Belka realized—he couldn’t even afford the dorm fee.

“Eleven thousand? Or ten, if that’s too much.” He didn’t know her status. Ten thousand would get him enrolled. The old man sent him here for a *normal* student life—surely easier than training with him. Food wasn’t a problem; given materials and a day, he could craft and sell enough to eat. But his tools… forgotten. *Sigh.*

His careful request—only what he needed—made Belka’s heart swell. *Such a considerate junior.*

She rolled beside him like a cat, pinching his cheek. (*So soft!*) “I’ll lend you fifty thousand. Tuition, food, *and* tools for Yayang.”

Startled, Illusionary Feather turned. Her face hovered a finger’s width away, crimson eyes warm. He felt… soothed.

“Oh?” Belka’s grin turned playful. “Has my little brother fallen for his senior? That won’t do~”

Belka caught the blush on Illusionary Feather’s cheeks. Their eyes met, sparking her mischievous streak. She covered her face as if flustered, leaping up to flee—but not before slipping a card onto his desk. She dashed into the hallway.

Only after the door clicked shut did Illusionary Feather rise. He picked up the card, warmth spreading through his chest. *Aside from that old man, she’s the first person to treat me this kindly.*

···

By the time Belka left the freshman dorms, the sun was dipping low. She headed straight to the Academy Head’s office.

“Belka, you’re here. The kid’s settled,” Maria Bella said casually as Belka entered.

“Actually, I came to discuss his school choice,” Belka replied with a nod.

“You’ve decided already? Quick work.”

“He’ll attend Yayang—but not in any class taught by Roald Che克斯.”

“Simple enough. Though I never expected him to surpass *him* in this regard.”

“If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave.”

“Wait.” Maria Bella pointed to three items on the left side of the room. “Since he’s chosen his path, take the toolbox from those three for him.”

Belka’s gaze swept over a knight sword, a black toolbox, and a silver staff. These were no ordinary tools. The knight sword rivaled her own blade in quality; the toolbox’s魔 steel exterior hinted at even finer instruments within; the staff—pure silver—was a sorcerer’s dream. *Wield this, and a Level Five’s fireball could swell tenfold, easily reaching Level Seven power.*

Shifting from shock to a soft smile, Belka took the toolbox, bid farewell, and left. With errands pending, she stored it in her dorm first.

**Next Day**

Illusionary Feather still wore his plain martial arts tracksuit. He’d arrived too lazy to pack luggage—and the old man had grumbled, *“Why should an elder carry baggage for a junior?”* (Though laziness was the real culprit.) He’d have to endure it until registration granted him a uniform.

*Knock knock knock.*

He opened the door to find Belka and Lily standing there.

“Morning, little Feather,” Belka beamed.

“Morning, Belka-nee. What’s in the box?” he asked after greeting her.

“Oh, this?” She lifted a black case. “A toolbox. Probably mechanical tools—I haven’t peeked.”

“Is it for me?” His eyes lit up.

“Of course!” She grinned sunnily. He took it without opening it, setting it inside.

“Hmph!” Lily Pulses huffed, ignored. *No—it’s not about attention. I just hate their cozy little world.*

“You forgot little Lily? No wonder she’s pouting,” Belka teased.

Illusionary Feather stifled a laugh—

*Whoosh!* A fireball slammed into his chest. The magic circle on his robe flared, freezing the flames mid-air. The icy sphere *thudded* to the floor.

All three stared.

“Magic-imbued gear?!” Lily blurted first.

“Breakfast first,” Illusionary Feather declared, striding out and shutting the door behind him. Belka followed, Lily trailing with burning curiosity.

Over breakfast, they discussed clothes while Illusionary Feather endured stabbing stares. Eating felt impossible.

After the meal, they summoned dragons at yesterday’s plaza. Belka and Illusionary Feather mounted Swift; Lily climbed onto Scarlet’s back. Together, they flew toward the Mechanical Campus.

“Doesn’t Lily have classes today?” Illusionary Feather asked lazily, reclining on Swift.

“It’s Saturday,” Belka said matter-of-factly.

“Then why’s she coming?” he pressed, killing time.

Belka’s tone turned playful: “Does my little Feather want just *us* alone? No third wheel?”

“I just wonder why she’d tag along when she clearly hates me,” he replied evenly, sidestepping her tease.

“She just wants to hang out with me. Boredom, you know.”

Their idle chatter carried them to Yayang’s gates. The campus buzzed with crowds—making Illusionary Feather’s head throb.

Their arrival drew even more attention: few at the Dragon Tamer Academy owned *once-evolved* flying dragons.

Thankfully, Lily’s icy glare and a warning fireball scattered the onlookers. Belka sighed; Illusionary Feather approved.

Thanks to Belka’s connections, registration was swift. Illusionary Feather received his test paperwork—but no uniform. “Only after passing the exam,” the clerk said.

Lily smirked as they set off to buy him new clothes.