Melusine, Become my Noble Phantasm!

On the outskirts of the forest where Aslan stood, a small bus sped along the winding road. Inside, several young people dressed in black robes—modernized wizard attire—sat quietly. Their sleeves bore mysterious symbols, and large hoods rested on their backs, giving them an enigmatic aura.

Some held books or notebooks, while others whispered softly to the plants they carried, which seemed to respond to their owners' words. It was clear these were no ordinary youths—they were students of the Clock Tower, specifically from its Botany Department.

In the front row, a handsome blond boy lounged, listening to rock music through his earphones, striking a carefree pose. He looked like the rebellious, fashionable scion of a wealthy family—someone who seemed far removed from the austere world of magic.

Influenced by their leader's attitude, some other students wore heavy rock-style makeup they dared not flaunt at school but felt free to sport on the road.

"Mark, are you sure we can find the mysterious plant that reverts to its ancestral form in this forest?" asked a girl with smoky eyeshadow, curling close to the blond boy. She pressed her face near his, partly because he was strong, but mostly because his prestigious family could open doors for her. If she could join his clan, her own family's standing and her future as a magician would become much smoother.

The world of magicians was cruel and practical. Her family was good, but only average among the great magical houses. Success depended on one's own efforts. Fortunately, her family was no weakling. If Mark truly liked her, maybe she, a girl from a modest background, could truly be accepted.

Look at Mark—he embraced fashion and music. Even if his family wasn't wholeheartedly supportive, at least they weren't opposed. They were relatively open-minded, and open-minded families were likelier to accept those with lower bloodlines.

Mark raised an eyebrow and gently pushed the girl away. He liked women, but not ones offered so openly. Where was the thrill of the chase? He was also annoyed at her lack of trust.

"You must be joking. When have I ever missed a piece of information? I'm sharing this with you because this year's project is more difficult. If you don't trust me, open the window and jump out now."

Mark's eyes turned cold; the playful smile vanished. As a magician from a prestigious family, he wasn't harmless.

The girl blinked in surprise, then put on a polite but awkward smile and retreated to her seat.

The others paid no mind, chatting and discussing as usual, but every so often their gaze flickered toward a girl sitting alone in the last row, distant from the rest. She wore a tight black robe, clutched a book, wore glasses, and had her hair styled into two slightly rustic twin ponytails—giving off a gloomy, ordinary air.

At first glance, she seemed like someone not interested in making friends.

Sensing eyes on her, the girl looked up, her deep black eyes piercing those staring at her, silently asking, What's going on? Her oppressive presence only deepened the other students' aversion.

It was the early 1990s. Before the ancient Eastern countries fully asserted themselves, many Europeans and Americans still harbored disdain or mistrust toward people from the East. Especially since Eastern magicians rarely revealed their magic bases or costumes, many whispered that they were old-fashioned.

To some Western magicians, Eastern magicians seemed more archaic than even some of their own elders.

"Why is she always like this? No wonder she has no friends."

"Why do you care? She's an outlier. The East has its own traditions. Few come here to study. That she came alone says something. Back home, she was probably ostracized or made enemies."

"Stay away from her. If she brings that gloom here, we won't be able to handle it."

The girl's expression twitched slightly, but she hid the corner of her mouth behind her book. Her ears worked perfectly—she was far from human, after all—so she heard everything. And it was obvious these words were meant to reach her.

This was the world of magicians. Disgusting as it was, it served her well. The more they hated and distanced themselves from her, the quieter her life.

If they rejected her, so be it. For humans, she had only a century—no, barely a dozen years left before she'd be gone. She'd move on.

Still...

Her hand touched the seat beneath her. She felt the vibrations of the bus, the progress of humans exploring the world faster than ever.

How much longer could she continue wandering?

Sigh... I still can't bring myself to like humans. Why did I accept their invitation?

It didn't matter if she stayed at the Clock Tower another year—it was the man with the woolly hair who influenced her.

Why did my identity reveal itself?

-End Chapter-

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