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'…' Thought
"…" speech
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I was comfortably seated in the headmaster's chair, Kirlia perched gracefully beside me, radiating an air of elegance that made me look way more dignified than I actually was. Across from me, in what I generously called the adult chair, sat Gings—because apparently, now that we'd hit puberty, we were supposed to take things more seriously.
I say adult chair, but honestly? We were still just kids pretending to be responsible. I had shot up to a respectable 1.60m (5'3"), while Gings was trailing just a little behind me—much to his annoyance. He had grumbled something about "late growth spurts" the other day, but I wasn't buying it.
Meanwhile, Monferno was not in the room. Instead, he was somewhere out there, in the vast world of the school grounds, most likely getting into some kind of trouble. Knowing him—and knowing the bad habits he'd picked up from Gings—he was probably causing chaos, pulling pranks, or challenging the gym teacher again.
I turned to Gings, who was lounging as if he owned the place.
"You know… maybe we should check on Monferno."
Gings just gave me a lazy side glance. "Nah. He's fine."
"Define fine."
"Well, last time I saw him, he was trying to steal snacks from the kitchen using a grappling hook made of vines."
I stared at him.
"...And that doesn't make you think we should check on him?"
Gings shrugged. "Look, if something explodes, we'll definitely hear it."
Kirlia sighed and shook her head. She was already the responsible one in this trio.
If my map radar was correct, around 900 students had accepted our invitation. That was… a lot. A lot. But hey, no turning back now.
I leaned back in my chair, glancing over at the grand dining hall, where rows upon rows of tables stretched before me, all set and ready for the big arrival. Oh, right, I didn't tell you—I actually managed to pull off the whole 'food-appearing-out-of-thin-air' thing like in Hogwarts.
Yeah. Enchanted tables.
And you know what? It was way easier than I thought it would be. You'd think creating magical tables that could place and displace unlimited food on command would be some kind of massive challenge—some high-tier sorcery requiring days of calculations and trial and error.
Nope. Piece of cake.
You know what wasn't easy? Plumbing.
I kid you not. I nearly lost my mind trying to design an efficient, self-sustaining water system for this place. Toilets. Showers. Sinks. It was an ordeal.
But magic tables that conjure food out of nowhere? Breeze.
I sighed, rubbing my temples. "You ever think we're prioritizing the weirdest things?"
Gings, who had been casually flipping through a book, looked up. "Nah. Food is top-tier priority. You did good."
I rolled my eyes. "That's not what I—never mind."
Kirlia, ever the silent judge of my decisions, just gave me a knowing look.
For the dorm distribution, I went with four dorms for girls and six for boys, based on the number of students who enrolled. The younger kids got the first floors, while the older ones were assigned to the upper levels—because let's be honest, nobody wants a bunch of hyperactive eight-year-olds stomping above their heads at night.
To make things more convenient, I created a clothing warehouse where students could pick up clothes, sheets, and other essentials. If they needed help, they could just ask the castle elves, who were more than happy to assist—because, you know, they were literally programmed for it.
But the thing I was really proud of?
The uniforms.
Now, I didn't make them mandatory—I wasn't running some dystopian school. But if students chose to wear them, they'd get access to some premium features:
✅ Self-heating (No more freezing in winter!)
✅ Self-cleaning (No laundry duty—ever!)
✅ Self-adjusting (Grows with you. No more outgrowing clothes.)
As for the design? Black and white.
Not because of a lack of creativity, no. Definitely not. (Okay, maybe a little.)
But to compensate, I let the students customize them in the warehouse. They could choose different colors to match their taste. Want a deep red trim? Go for it. A cool blue lining? Knock yourself out.
At the end of the day, I figured if they're gonna be stuck here for years, they might as well look good doing it.
So, food? Ready.
Dorms? Ready.
Speech? Ready.
And yet… I still had two whole minutes before mass teleportation began.
Now, two minutes may not seem like a long time, but when you're about to have 900 kids suddenly appear in your school all at once, trust me—it feels like an eternity.
I glanced over at Kirlia, who was standing beside me, looking unbothered. Gings, on the other hand, was lounging in his chair, clearly way too relaxed for someone about to be responsible for an army of children.
"Should we, uh… prepare for chaos?" I asked.
"Nah," Gings waved it off. "What's the worst that could happen?"
I turned and stared at him.
He stared back.
We both knew exactly what the worst that could happen was.
"…Monferno is still outside, right?" I asked cautiously.
Gings blinked. Then, his eyes widened.
"Oh sh—"
Before he could finish, the clock hit zero.
A blinding white light flashed across the hall, followed by a rush of noise—gasps, shouts, a few excited squeals, and at least one distant "Where the hell am I?!"
And just like that—900 students materialized inside the hall.
Some stumbled forward, dizzy from the sudden teleportation. Others immediately started looking around, eyes wide with curiosity. A few kids were already poking at the enchanted tables, whispering about how the food was "just floating there."
I could hear some murmurs from a group who definitely came from Meteor Street, muttering, "Yo, this place is too clean. You sure we ain't dead?"
Gings, still in his chair, stretched and smirked. "Well, that went smoothly."
At that exact moment, a loud crash echoed from outside.
We both froze.
Kirlia sighed, already sensing the disaster.
"…Monferno," I muttered.
"Monferno," Gings agreed.
And just like that, the opening ceremony officially began.
I stood up, Kirlia floating beside me, while Gings stayed slouched in his chair, looking way too relaxed for someone co-founding a school.
I clapped my hands once, and the hall fell silent—or at least mostly silent. A few whispers lingered, some students still looking around in awe.
I cleared my throat and smiled. "Hello and welcome, our talented children from all around the world. I'm happy to see you join our school, where you will learn many things and experience far more…"
I paused, glancing at the 900 sets of expectant eyes staring back at me. Some kids were on edge, others already eyeing potential rivals, and a few looked like they hadn't had a proper meal in years.
"So first—let's eat."
The tables instantly filled with food.
The reaction was immediate. Some kids jumped back in shock, others gasped, and at least one grabbed a drumstick mid-air before it even fully settled on the plate.
A kid from Meteor Street narrowed his eyes. "…Yo, is this poisoned?"
Gings leaned over, smirking. "Only if you don't eat fast enough."
And just like that, the feast began.
The moment the food materialized on the tables, the entire hall fell into a stunned silence—well, for about three seconds.
Then, chaos.
Some kids lunged for the food like their lives depended on it—because for some, it probably did. The ones from Meteor Street and the rougher areas didn't even blink before grabbing whatever was closest and stuffing it into their mouths, eyes darting left and right as if expecting someone to take it from them.
A scrawny boy with wild hair looked deeply offended at the sudden abundance of food. "Tch. This is a trap. No way this is free." He still took a bite, though.
A group of more privileged-looking kids hesitated, eyeing the food with uncertainty. "This wasn't… prepared by actual people, was it?" One of them poked a roasted chicken leg with a fork, as if expecting it to vanish.
A girl with bright green hair sniffed the air like an animal. "Huh… it smells real." Then she bit into a whole loaf of bread like it was an apple.
One kid, probably from some aristocratic background, raised his hand as if he was in an actual formal school. "Excuse me, but do we have a menu or dietary options?"
Gings snorted and whispered to me, "Yeah, the options are 'eat' or 'don't.'"
Meanwhile, one of the younger kids, barely eight years old, was staring at a bowl of soup with teary eyes before whispering, "It's warm…"
That one almost made me break character.
On the other side of the hall, a group of kids who clearly knew each other had already started dividing up portions, sharing bites and trading food like they were in some underground economy.
And then there was a kid who just… kept taking stuff. Plates and plates stacked in front of him, like he was preparing for a food apocalypse. Gings nudged me and pointed. "That one. Future hoarder."
I just shrugged. "At least he's planning ahead."
Kirlia, meanwhile, was teleporting from table to table, ensuring everything was in order, while Monferno had somehow snuck into the kitchen and was now hoarding bananas.
At the far end of the hall, a girl in a neatly pressed uniform took a small bite of her meal, chewed carefully, and nodded. "Acceptable."
Yeah. This was going to be interesting.
Once the kids realized that food wasn't a limited resource, the initial chaos died down significantly. No more desperate lunges or suspicious side-eyes—just the realization that no matter how much they ate, the food kept replenishing itself.
One kid, who had been hoarding plates like a dragon with treasure, blinked in confusion when a new roasted chicken appeared right where the old one had been. He cautiously poked it, then looked around as if expecting a trick. When nothing happened, he slowly put a plate back.
Another student, who had stuffed an entire steak into his pockets,froze mid-bite when he saw the food respawning. "Wait… we don't have to fight for it?" he mumbled through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.
"Nope," I said from the head table, casually taking a sip of my drink. "It's magic."
That seemed to break some of them. They still looked wary, like this was some elaborate scam, but after a few minutes, they settled into something resembling a normal meal. The younger kids were the happiest, their initial hesitation fading when older students started helping them cut their food or reach for things.
One particularly tiny girl with a big appetite was practically vibrating with excitement. "I can eat as much as I want?"
"Yeah," an older boy replied, handing her a plate of fruit. "Go nuts."
Meanwhile, the musical enchantment I had set up kicked in, filling the hall with a soft, calming melody. Nothing too dramatic—just enough to make the atmosphere feel cozy.
Some students visibly relaxed at the sound, shoulders losing tension they probably hadn't realized they were holding. A few even started humming along after a while, tapping their fingers against the table in time with the beat.
At the teacher's table, Gings nudged me. "Huh. You actually put some effort into this, huh?"
I rolled my eyes. "Of course I did. What kind of headmaster would I be if I didn't?"
"A lazy one?"
"Fair."
As the last of the students slowed down their eating, I gave Kirlia a quick nod. She teleported out, preparing the next part of the evening.
Because now, it was time for the real welcome speech.
As the last plates disappeared and the hall settled into a comfortable buzz of full stomachs and curiosity, I stood up and clapped my hands together.
"Alright, now that we're all well-fed and slightly less suspicious of the food—" a few kids looked away guiltily at that, "—I was going to give you all a big, inspiring speech about dreams, the future, and all that , but let's be real. None of you would actually listen."
I leaned forward, resting my hands on the table. "So instead, I'm giving you the floor. You've got questions, we've got answers. Either me, your dear headmaster, or my wonderful Vice Principal Gings, will handle them. So, fire away."
Silence.
Then, a hand shot up in the middle of the hall. A serious-looking boy with short black hair and sharp eyes stood up. Meteor Street. I could tell just by the way he carried himself.
"What's the catch?"
I grinned. "Ah, straight to the point. I like it. There is no catch."
A few disbelieving scoffs.
"Look, I get it," I continued. "In this world, nothing comes free, right? But here's the deal—this school is free. The only thing we expect is that once you graduate and become successful, you don't forget where you came from. Maybe you'll help out, maybe you won't. No one's going to force you. But I wouldn't have spent all this effort just to create a debt trap, alright?, We just want you to have a nice childhood who know maybe you will save other's childhood too one day."
The boy stared for a long moment, then slowly sat down.
Another hand shot up—a girl with long pink hair and wide, curious eyes.
"How strong are you?"
Gings laughed before I could answer. "You'll find out soon enough, kid."
I smirked. "Let's just say, strong enough to be your headmaster. Next?"
A younger girl, maybe nine years old, hesitantly raised her hand. "Will we be safe here?"
The question made a few other students go quiet.
My expression softened. "Yes. This place is safer than anywhere else you've been. We've made sure of that. No one can just waltz in here. And if someone does try? They're not leaving in one piece."
I didn't even have to look at the map to know Gings' Monferno was probably terrorizing a squirrel somewhere nearby.
A tall boy with silver hair and piercing blue eyes leaned back in his chair. "So, if we wanna leave, we can?"
"Yup. You're not prisoners," I said, shrugging. "If you ever want out, you can go. and you can use one of the phones right now in the hall to call your guardians . No strings attached. We're not some weird cult."
Gings coughed. "Yet."
I kicked his shin under the table.
Another kid from Meteor Street raised a hand. This one had wild brown hair and sharp teeth.
"What if I wanna fight someone?"
A few chuckles rippled through the hall.
I grinned. "Then you wait until training starts. No brawling in the halls. Unless you want the castle elves to throw you out on your face."
A small kid with round glasses and a calculating gaze adjusted his frames. "What do we actually learn here?"
"Everything," I said. "Reading, writing, math—boring but useful. Combat, survival, strategy—less boring, more useful. Some "Magic"too? Oh yeah, you'll get to learn that ."
A ripple of excitement passed through the room.
The kid with the glasses narrowed his eyes. "How do you know who gets in? What if someone isn't worthy?"
I smirked. "If you got a letter, you're already worthy."
Someone else raised a hand. "What's with the uniforms?"
"They're optional," I said, waving a hand, "but if you wear them, they self-adjust, self-clean, and keep you warm or cool depending on the weather."
Another voice piped up, skeptical. "So... you're saying I never have to wash my clothes?"
"Correct."
A dramatic gasp from some of the younger kids.
Gings laughed. "Told you they'd like that one."
Another hand went up. A kid with a mischievous grin and dark blue hair leaned forward. "What if I wanna play pranks?"
I deadpanned. "First, I know exactly who you are. Second, do it too much and the castle elves will deal with you."
The kid pouted.
More hands went up, more questions about classes, dorms, training, and rules. Some kids were cautious, some eager, some just waiting to see what happened next.
Eventually, I raised a hand, signaling the end. "Alright, alright, I think that's enough for now. Tomorrow, you'll all get a proper tour, settle into dorms, and get your schedules. But for tonight—" I gestured to the castle elves that had appeared out of nowhere.
They waved cheerfully.
"Follow them to your rooms. And try not to get lost. The castle has… a personality."
I definitely heard Gings chuckle at that.
And just like that, the first night at Nova Horizon Academy had officially begun.
...….
Young Chrollo
Chrollo sat at the long table, hands folded in his lap, his mind moving faster than his stomach. The food was good—too good. Everything about this place felt like a dream someone else had, and he had just wandered into it by mistake.
It wasn't Meteor Street.
No rotten stench of desperation, no shuffling figures waiting for you to drop something, no constant undercurrent of survival hanging in the air.
Just… warmth. Music. A castle straight out of a fantasy book.
His fingers brushed the letter still tucked in his sleeve. He hadn't let go of it, not really. It was proof that he was actually here and not just hallucinating some elaborate trick.
'No catch.' That's what the headmaster had said.
Chrollo wasn't sure if he believed that yet.
"Hey, Chrollo! Look at this!" Sarasa's voice broke through his thoughts as she shoved a bowl of something sweet and golden toward him. "It's like—real caramel!"
She was grinning, happy. So was Shella.
His hands tightened in his lap. Happy didn't last long where they came from.
But maybe… just maybe…
He looked up at the headmaster—young, confident, too comfortable in his seat. He spoke like he knew things. Like he could see things coming before they happened.
Chrollo had to know more.
....
Young Morena
Morena sat at the farthest end of the table, away from the overly eager ones. She watched them eat, laugh, talk like they belonged here.
Like this wasn't a trap.
The food never ran out. It replaced itself, over and over again, as if it had no limit. That wasn't natural.
The adults at her old place always said nothing came for free. That everything had a price, even if you didn't see it right away. So what was the price for this?
She glanced toward the headmaster and his so-called Vice Principal. Young, cocky, acting like they had everything under control.
'We'll see.'
Her fingers trailed over the edge of her spoon.
For now, she would play along. Eat, listen, learn.
And if this place turned out to be another lie?
Well, she had always been good at breaking things.
...
Young Mito
Mito's legs swung slightly under the bench as she chewed on a piece of fruit, her mind racing.
She had heard about schools before, of course. But not like this. Not a giant castle with magic food, elves, and a headmaster who looked barely older than a teenager.
She poked the hem of her uniform—black and white, clean, strangely comfortable. It felt weird wearing something she hadn't made or borrowed.
And the Magic thing. That was real? That meant—
She bit her lip, glancing down at the letter she had stuffed in her pocket. The one she had shown Aunt Rina before coming.
She had called Ging.
Which meant he probably told Insert.
Which meant—oh no, she was going to have to deal with those two showing up at some point, and treating her as their student, wasn't she?
She groaned, flopping onto the table.
"Something wrong?" a girl across from her asked.
Mito peeked up. "Just realizing my childhood might be over."
...….
OC - Young Vinn
Vinn had never seen so much food in his entire life.
He had hesitated at first, sure that someone was going to smack his hands away, tell him he wasn't allowed. That this was all a test.
But then he had seen others eating—small kids, bigger kids, even some who looked like they had never eaten a full meal in their lives.
And no one stopped them.
So he ate.
And ate.
And ate.
And when the food never ran out, when he wasn't scolded for taking too much, when he wasn't hungry anymore for the first time in years—
He cried.
Quietly, into his bowl, hoping no one saw.
Because maybe, just maybe, this place was real.