Curse of Lysertis

Adam walked purposefully through the bustling corridors of the magic academy, looking for the dining hall. As usual, he drew attention wherever he went: some people regarded him with annoyance, others with fear, and still others with open contempt. Whispering behind his back, pointing fingers, and derisive laughter had become his constant background noise. He'd learned to ignore it all, continuing on his way with an impassive expression.

Upon entering the spacious dining hall—filled with the sounds of lively chatter and clinking silverware—Adam scanned the room for an empty seat. Every table was occupied.

"It's fine—something might free up by the time I get my food," he thought, heading toward the serving stations.

After piling appetizing dishes onto his tray, he looked around once more. Still, there were no free seats. Spotting a table with a few students, he sat down at the far corner. The students noticed him, exchanged annoyed glances, then picked up their trays and moved to a neighboring table. Adam only shrugged, got comfortable, and started eating.

The food was so delicious that he tuned out the rest of the world. The clamor of the dining hall and the conversations surrounding him faded away. Unfortunately, his bliss didn't last as long as he would have liked. Four students from a parallel class approached his table, their faces clearly displeased. They were saying something, but Adam, absorbed in his meal, paid no attention.

"Let them talk. They'll get bored and leave," he thought indifferently, continuing to eat.

"Hey, bastard! Are you even listening to me?" one of them finally shouted, irritated.

He grabbed Adam's tray and swept it off the table. At that moment, Adam realized they had no intention of letting him be. A hushed silence fell over the dining hall: everyone turned to see what would happen next.

Adam looked up at last, speaking calmly: "You should have dumped it on me."

"What?" the bully asked, taken aback.

"I'm saying you should have thrown the tray at me. That would've had more impact, maybe even pissed me off. But now you've missed your chance. What do you want? I don't have any money, so don't bother."

"We're not here for that," the other growled, his voice filled with undisguised malice.

"Oh, really? Then why are you here? And why'd you knock my food off?" Adam asked, still sounding indifferent.

"To teach you a lesson, you son of a bitch!"

With those words, the bully threw the first punch. His fist slammed into Adam's face, sending him sprawling onto his back.

"Ow! Damn it, that hurts! What the hell are you talking about? What lesson? Why?" Adam protested, holding his cheek.

"Like you don't know," the attacker sneered.

The others moved aside, making way for Adèle—a classmate of Adam's who had been on the receiving end of his cutting remark that morning. She stepped forward with a lofty air.

"Well? Not so fun now, is it?" she said icily, folding her arms at her waist.

"I'm not following you at all," Adam replied calmly, standing up. "Did I say something offensive? I only told the truth."

"You've got some nerve, you bastard!" Adèle exclaimed. "Guys, you know what to do with him."

She spun around and walked off proudly. The group closed in on Adam and began to beat him. The first blow struck his face again, forcing him to stagger backward. The second blow landed in his stomach, so hard that he doubled over in pain. Blood spurted from his mouth and dripped onto the floor. Soon, Adam was on the ground, unable to stand, yet the blows kept coming.

The crowd of students in the dining hall erupted with excitement. They chanted loudly:— "Hit him! Hit him! Keep going!"

Their cheers filled the hall as they jumped in place, stomped their feet, and clapped, reveling in the spectacle like an audience at a gladiatorial arena. Not a single person stepped in to stop the beating.

One of the bullies raised his fist for another blow, but his arm suddenly stopped in mid-swing.

"What the hell…?" he muttered, turning around. His expression morphed from irritation to fear. Shun was standing behind him, gripping his wrist firmly. Shun's cold blue eyes glinted, and the edges of his robe fluttered as if stirred by a magical current.

"Enjoying yourselves?" he asked in a flat tone.

"N-no, Shun, you've got it wrong! This guy just fell, and we were trying to help him," one of the bullies sputtered.

Shun, his face unchanged, tightened his grip, making the bully cry out in pain.

"Do you realize what's going to happen to you for this?" he asked calmly.

He kept squeezing, stronger and stronger. The bully swallowed hard, face twisting in terror as he tried to yank his arm free. Shun wouldn't release him. The other aggressors, now wary, shifted into tense stances—but they didn't strike. They stood by, waiting to see Shun's next move. Every onlooker in the dining hall watched with bated breath.

"Calm down, idiots. I'm not here to fight you," Shun said. "Everyone just relax."

He let go of the bully's wrist. The group backed off, forming a loose line. Adam lay sprawled on the floor, motionless, bruised, and bloody. Suddenly, the doors to the dining hall swung open, and in walked several professors along with Director William. They approached the scene in silence. Professor Sharlota went straight to Adam, lowered herself beside him, gently placed his head on her lap, and began dabbing the blood from his face with a handkerchief, murmuring soothing words.

"Well?" Director William's voice was stern. "Do any of you care to explain yourselves?"

"We're sorry, sir. We won't do it again," the bullies said in unison.

"Of course you won't. You're all expelled. Every last one of you."

"No, sir, please! You can't expel us on the very first day!"

"Really?"

Director William arched an eyebrow.

"Every one of you knows our academy's code inside and out. No fighting within these walls unless it's part of a practical lesson. I'm putting it in simple terms so even blockheads like you can understand."

"Director William, why are you defending this scum? Have you forgotten what his father tried to do?" one of them shouted, his voice shaky with fear, clearly not grasping what was happening.

"Every human being has a right to live, regardless of what their parents have done," William said coolly.

"If his father was a criminal, that doesn't make Adam one. He's just as much a person as the rest of us. He doesn't deserve this. You call him 'scum,' but in truth, the only scum here is you. Collect your things and head to the train. It should arrive shortly."

"Please, Director… We really won't do it again. We'll accept any punishment—just don't expel us. We beg you."

The archmage closed his eyes and gestured toward the door, signaling the teenagers to leave.

He then knelt beside Sharlota and Adam.

"How is he?"

"Not good. He's unconscious. I gave him a restorative potion, but he needs the infirmary."

"I'll carry him," Shun said, lifting Adam into his arms.

Shun brought Adam to the infirmary and gently laid him on a cot. Nurse Tereza approached, inspected his injuries with a shake of her head, and sighed.

"Of course—it's our Adam. Only he could manage to get himself beaten to a pulp on the very first day," she muttered. — "All right, we'll take care of him."

She began treating Adam's cuts and bruises, muttering something softly under her breath. Shun turned to go, but Tereza called after him:

"Shun, wait."

She hurried over, touching his shoulder. Her gaze turned a bit playful, her voice becoming soft:

"Tell me, are there any days you're free?" she asked, tapping the floor with the toe of her shoe and swaying her hips. — "Because if you happen to be free sometime, we could—"

"None," Shun cut her off, his tone emotionless. "I'm busy every day."

With that, he turned sharply and walked out, disappearing around the corner before long. Tereza, somewhat deflated, lingered by the doorway, eyes following him until he was out of sight.