The class ended. A diverse array of students stood and bowed respectfully to the teacher. He gave a slight nod—no follow-up questions, no extra words—and tucked his book under his arm at the sound of the dismissal bell.

Coleman Academy hired only veteran instructors or renowned masters, their resumes as thick as their lesson plans.

As usual, these new-generation Divine Maidens appeared dutiful on the surface but listened with distracted minds. Only a handful truly paid attention. Most whispered below; those with a trace of patience listened briefly, then grew bored—finding the lecture dull or irrelevant. Swept up by the classroom mood, they too began murmuring to neighbors.

They assumed the teacher noticed nothing. How naive.

These were educators with over a decade of experience. A tilted head, crossed arms—they could read a student’s thoughts. How could they miss the fidgeting below?

Just as teachers often said: *“Think I don’t see your little antics down there? Come up to the podium. You’ll see—it’s crystal clear.”*

The instructor saw everything but chose to ignore it. Not negligence—just familiarity. Every incoming class was the same. Especially these high-born, prideful Divine Maidens: lecture them as a teacher, and it went straight in one ear and out the other.

No one understood educating Divine Maidens better than Coleman Academy’s faculty. No special handling. Speak plainly. Waste not a single word on hot-headed youths. Soon enough, reality itself would step in—no teacher needed—to deliver a harsh lesson.

Freshman Divine Maidens were often restless, rowdy, even disrespectful. Yet by sophomore or junior year at Coleman? Such students vanished. Guess why?

Teachers had seen it countless times: Divine Maidens demanding undue privileges, clashing with teams. Seasoned experts, all.

*“Enroll at Coleman but fail to learn basic social grace? Proof your adaptability is lacking. Can’t adjust? Return whence you came. We won’t keep you.”*

Divine Maidens were treasures across academies—Coleman included. But Coleman held one iron rule: quality over quantity. Talent meant nothing if your team expelled you and no new squad took you. Expulsion awaited.

So these battle-tested teachers weren’t rushing to discipline this batch. Someone else would “handle” them. This year’s cohort? No different from the last.

Tucking his book under his arm and adjusting his glasses, square-faced, stern Instructor Caris turned to leave.

“Excuse me—may I trouble you for a moment of your rest time, Teacher?” A voice, clear and melodious as a skylark’s song, light yet impeccably polite.

“Hm?” Caris paused, turned back. A golden-haired little girl, no taller than his waist.

*An unawakened Divine Maiden?*

At a glance, he knew she wasn’t awakened. Her golden hair stood out—but so did the faint, unflattering scar across her cheek.

*Who is she?* He couldn’t place her. Odd. Any Divine Maiden who’d attended his class would’ve left an impression.

*A transfer? A new student?* No—formal class assignments weren’t finalized yet. Mixed lessons meant no true transfers.

“You… came to ask me a question?” Caris asked, disbelief flickering in his tone.

“Why else would I stop you, Instructor Caris?” she replied with a sweet, obedient smile.

“How do you know my name?”

She let out a silvery laugh, then silently pointed to his chest tag.

Ah. His name tag. Tiny print. Rare for a first-day student to notice.

*This child notices details others miss.*

Caris’s expression softened slightly. He bent down. “What part didn’t you understand?”

Rare was the student who asked after the very first lesson. Show or sincerity—his duty remained.

“Instructor Caris,” Tilisha asked earnestly, clutching her notebook, “you mentioned some special Divine Maidens have unique activation conditions for their Divine Maiden Realm. Are there subcategories based on trigger types?”

Caris’s gaze lingered on her worn notebook—pages densely filled with neat, delicate script. *After just one lesson?*

“Well… no,” he explained gently. “They’re too unique. Categorize further? Each individual could be their own category.”

“Could you share a few examples, Teacher?”

“Examples vary wildly. One Divine Maiden from our academy? Her Divine Maiden Realm wouldn’t trigger from danger warnings—only extreme hunger.”

“Hunger…?” Tilisha murmured, a hint of thoughtfulness in her eyes. Truly bizarre.

“Another required a full stomach to activate—but drained her stamina completely. Another needed sheer anger… Countless variations. Impossible to neatly classify.”

“I see,” Tilisha said softly, a trace of disappointment in her voice. No clear path to identify her own type.

Her goal was clear: unlock her Divine Maiden Realm using academy knowledge. Driven by genuine curiosity—and unlike her sharp, untempered classmates—she possessed the patience to study deeply.

Unaware, her earnestness left a strong first impression on the instructor. To her peers? Merely contrived. Earning only quiet disdain and scorn.