The Fire Empress had arrived at the edge of dusk

Afternoon came.

        With the last class dismissed, the school grounds gradually filled with motion. Not all students headed home right away, some peeled off toward club buildings, others lingered near classrooms for meetings or errands, but the majority exited in small groups. Laughter mixed with quiet conversations, while a few were already absorbed in their devices as they made their way toward the main gate, as if following an unspoken rule.

        "Yawn…" Mikado stifled a yawn as he merged into the stream of students heading home. His shoulder bag slipped lower, and he lazily hitched it back into place, barely paying attention. Fatigue clung to him like a weight; the only thing occupying his thoughts was the moment he'd reach home, drop onto his bed, and finally sleep.

        Waking up early, sitting through classes, simply being here, it had all taken more out of him than he cared to admit. The clearer his image of collapsing onto his bed became, the more his remaining energy seemed to drain away.

        His back slouched as he walked, shoulders sagging, but posture was the last thing that mattered right now.

        One step. Then another. Then another, then he stopped.

Mikado halted just a few steps from the gate. He glanced behind him and quietly stepped aside as a group of female students passed by, too busy laughing to notice him standing in their way.

        Disregarding the group of students, Mikado reached into his side pocket and took out a piece of chewing gum. Twisting both ends of the plastic wrapper, he unwrapped the orange-flavored strip and pinched it between his fingers before bringing it to his mouth.

        The citrus taste spread instantly across his tongue as he began to chew, the sharp sweetness briefly cutting through his lingering fatigue.

        Mikado lifted his gaze to the sky, painted in deep shades of orange and gold as the sun dipped lower. The colors stretched endlessly above him, quiet and warm, beautiful in a way that made him pause. To him, the sky carried two meanings at once, the promise of tomorrow waiting just beyond the horizon, and the gentle confirmation that today, at last, was coming to an end.

       Usually, Mikado and Kakeru walked home together, keeping each other company until the train station. Today was different. Kakeru had club activities, and Mikado found himself heading home alone. That's clubless for you.

       The absence felt strange at first, the familiar noise missing from his side. But as he walked, he slowly realized something, he didn't have the strength left to fill that space. The silence suited him.

        He hadn't noticed how exhausted he was until now. What little energy remained was better spent moving forward one step at a time, free from conversation, free from thought. Just walking was enough.

        Mikado quickened his pace until his steps slowed at the sight of someone standing near the school gate, a student who looked as though she was waiting for someone. It was Isabella, the exchange student. He gave her no more than a passing glance; after all, she had nothing to do with him. Still, a trace of quiet amazement lingered. She had only arrived today, yet there she was, waiting for someone as if she already belonged, on her very first day of school.

        "H—hey."

        To Mikado's surprise, Isabella called out to him and hurried over. He came to a halt almost instinctively as she reached him.

        "I'm sorry for suddenly calling out to you," Isabella said, stopping beside him. Mikado remained frozen in place, his thoughts lagging a step behind the situation, still trying to understand why the exchange student was standing right next to him.

        "—...No, it's nothing," he replied after a beat, straightening himself as he forced his composure back into place.

        "So… what's the matter?" Mikado asked.

        "It's nothing important," Isabella said gently. "I just wanted to say sorry about what happened earlier."

        She was referring to the incident in the cafeteria during lunchtime.

        As the words settled between them, students continued to pass through the gate, their footsteps slowing ever so slightly. Curious glances flickered their way, some brief, some unabashed. Whispers followed soon after.

        The exchange student everyone had been talking about, standing side by side with Mikado Ryuugamine.

        The failure.

        Mikado could feel the weight of those looks pressing against his back. He lowered his gaze, suddenly aware of how out of place he must have seemed next to her. Of all the people she could have stopped, of all the students in this school, she had chosen him, and that alone was enough to draw attention he never asked for.

        "No… it's alright. It wasn't your fault," Mikado reassured her.

        "Even if you say that, it is my fault for approaching you first," Isabella replied, guilt clearly written across her face. "I just wanted to clarify something, what happened in the cafeteria earlier wasn't my  intention." She lifted her gaze to meet his, her eyes sincere, almost searching, as if she needed him to believe her more than she needed forgiveness.

        "All I wanted was to share a table with you," Isabella added.

        Mikado let out a deep breath, not quite a sigh. "Like I said, it wasn't your fault. So… it's alright now."

        Still, something lingered in his thoughts. "It does make me wonder, though," Mikado continued, clearly trying to change the subject. He knew that if he didn't, Isabella would keep apologizing for the rest of their exchange, and that would only make things more uncomfortable for him.

        "Why did you want to share a table with us when almost everyone in the cafeteria was willing to share theirs with you?"

        "That's because I just wanted to have a peaceful meal and finish my lunch quickly," Isabella explained. "And you two gave off that kind of feeling."

        In hindsight, it made sense. If she had chosen any of the other tables offered to her, peace would have been the last thing she'd find. After all, she was the exchange student from Europe, the one everyone was talking about. Questions would have piled up long before she could take her second bite. Not that sitting beside Mikado and Kakeru had truly offered her that peace either.

        "But instead of finding peace with us, you ended up with something worse," Mikado said with a light chuckle, tossing the words out like a joke.

        In response, Isabella rubbed her temple, looking slightly embarrassed.

        Mikado went on, his tone casual, almost careless. "But I guess you've learned your lesson now, that you shouldn't associate with us. Stick around, and more unpleasant things will come your way. We're the failures, after all."

        "I'm not very fond of that term," Isabella replied, her expression dimming.

        She lowered her gaze for a few seconds, as if carefully searching for the right words. 

        Mikado didn't offer a rebuttal. He simply observed Isabella in silence.

        "That's just the fruit of injustice," she said at last. "And how easily people are swayed by what they're told, until it becomes normal."

She paused, then continued more quietly, "Those people call you the lowest of the low, yet they never stop to ask why you were placed there in the first place."

        "You weren't failures at all," she said, firmly…

        "Then what do you think it is?" Mikado asked with a light smile. He found himself quietly surprised by the amount of compassion and sincerity she showed toward their situation.

        "—I think special is the right word," Isabella replied, lifting her gaze to meet his, a gentle smile forming on her lips.

        "Special, huh?" Mikado chuckled. "Yeah… I like the sound of that too."   

        A faint, almost sentimental smile flickered across Mikado's face.

        Their conversation had gone on longer than he realized. By now, the stream of students passing through the gate had thickened, some fresh from club activities, others lingering after a short break.

        "Oh— I'm sorry, I just realized," Isabella said suddenly. "We haven't properly introduced ourselves. My name is Isabella. Isabella Beaufoy."

        She extended her hand toward him. Despite the length of their exchange, this was their first formal introduction. Mikado accepted the handshake without hesitation; it felt natural enough, especially considering she was an exchange student from another country, likely unaccustomed to local customs.

        "Mikado Ryuugamine," he replied, returning the handshake. Making a small adjustment for her foreign background, he introduced himself plainly, meeting her gaze as he did.   

        "Mikado Ryuugamine," Isabella repeated, a trace of awe in her voice. "I'm not very deep into Japanese, but I believe that name has an amazing meaning behind it—Emperor of the Dragon’s Peak, right?"

        "Hahaha! You're right," Mikado laughed. "It's a pretty impressive name for someone as bland as me."

        "I… I don't quite know what to say if you put it like that," Isabella replied, momentarily at a loss.

        "No, it's alright," Mikado said, waving it off lightly. "You don't have to say anything."      

        The exchange didn't end there. Instead, it flowed on like a gentle river, one thought leading naturally into the next. Mikado asked about her first day as a transfer student, about the classes, the campus, the people—and Isabella answered with small smiles and thoughtful pauses.

        Then, without warning, a loud voice cut through the space between them.

        "Is this for real!?"   

        Isabella stiffened at the sound. Mikado caught a glimpse of it. The voice was unmistakably familiar, sharp with arrogance, dripping with mock disbelief. It belonged to the same first-year student from lunchtime, the one whose behavior had forced Isabella to apologize on his behalf.

        The boy stepped into view, a smug grin plastered across his face. Trailing behind him was the same group as before, clustered together like obedient shadows. Nothing about them had changed, the lazy confidence, hands stuffed into pockets, arms crossed as if the world existed solely for their amusement.

        The only difference was their attire.

        Gone were their school uniforms. Instead, they were dressed head to toe in soccer club practice gear, jerseys clinging to sweat-damp frames, cleats slung carelessly over shoulders. The implication was clear now.

        So, they were members of the soccer club.

        And judging by the way their eyes locked onto Mikado and Isabella, they hadn't come here by coincidence.

        What a bunch of annoying people… Mikado thought unbelievably.

        "Isabella, are you okay? Is this guy bothering you?" the boy asked, both hands tucked into his pockets, posturing like some prince swooping in to rescue a damsel in distress.

        He stepped forward and planted himself squarely in front of Mikado. Ironically, he was a good three inches shorter. Still, his arrogance didn't waver, perhaps emboldened by the group of equally smug friends backing him up. 

        "So failure wants me to teach you a lesson?" he sneered. "You should know your place."  

        Tch.

        Mikado caught Isabella's reaction from the corner of his eye. A sharp click of her tongue, irritation flashing clearly across her face. It was unexpected. Yet, just as quickly, that expression flipped, smoothed over into a gentle look, like the turn of a coin, as she addressed the smug boy.

        "No, everything is alright. He wasn't bothering me at all," Isabella said calmly.   

        The boy smiled, forcing his smugness into something that resembled kindness. "It's alright, Isabella. I know you're just being considerate of this guy's feelings, even though he was bothering you. You're just too kind."      

        After saying that, he took a step back. His hands slipped out of his pockets, palms opening, and a fist-sized sphere of water formed above them.

        Magic.

        A low buzz rippled through the surrounding students. Magic, within the academy grounds, was bound by layers of rules, permitted only during authorized lessons, monitored down to the smallest output. Physical confrontations were no different; violence was prohibited as firmly as reckless spellcasting.

        And yet, there it was, magic shimmering openly in the air, unchallenged. 

        The guy's friends began to fan out, their footsteps deliberate as they formed a tightening circle around Mikado, cutting off any obvious path of escape. It was a silent warning, run, and you won't get far. They all used the other one of the two uses of magic, magic amplification, all enhancing their bodies with magic.

        But running had never even entered Mikado's thoughts. He stood there, posture relaxed, expression untroubled, as though he were merely an observer to this sudden situation rather than its target.

        More telling was where his attention lay. It wasn't on the boy gathering magic in his palm, nor on the hostile faces surrounding him. Through the corner of his eye, Mikado watched Isabella instead, quietly measuring her reaction, waiting to see what choice she would make.

        "Try not to die, failure!" he barked, clapping his hands together. Water magic surged violently, spiraling and condensing into a massive sphere, ten times the size of a fist, its surface rippling under immense pressure.

        Then, without warning, everything went wrong.

        The condensed sphere of water suddenly evaporates. Not burst. Not collapse, but vanish. The remaining moisture didn't even linger, breaking apart into scattered droplets that struck the ground and hissed away. It all happened within seconds, like water thrown onto a blazing fire.

        "—What the?!"

        The guy stumbled back, his face draining of color as if he'd seen a ghost. The weight of the realization hit him all at once, his proud magic had disappeared into thin air.

        "What is happening here?!" The commanding voice rang out, cutting through the disorder like a snapped whip.

        All heads turned at once.

        At the edge of the crowd stood Aida Yaegashi, a senior and member of the student council, her expression sharp and unyielding as her eyes swiftly took in the situation. Following closely behind her was a figure whose presence alone bent the atmosphere, Eto Morioka, the student council president.

        The so-called Fire Empress.

        A wave of murmurs rippled through the students, swelling instantly into open astonishment. The Fire Empress herself had appeared.

        The warm glow of the late afternoon sun streamed in, casting long shadows across the ground. As Eto stepped forward, that golden light caught in her hair, turning each slow sway into a soft ember-like shimmer. The setting sun painted her silhouette in shades of amber and crimson, as if the day itself was bowing out in her presence.

        Yet her expression remained cold.

        Her back was straight, her stride unhurried and composed, every step deliberate. The contrast was striking, hair lit like quiet flames by the sunset, eyes narrowed with a chilling calm that belied her title. Those eyes didn’t burn, they pierced, sharp and discerning, as though nothing before her could hide the truth.

        With her arrival, the noise faltered. Whispers died, breaths were unconsciously held, and the lively after-school atmosphere stiffened into silence.

        Whatever this had been moments ago, it was no longer a casual confrontation.

        The Fire Empress had arrived at the edge of dusk. 

        "—You do know the rules… right?" Eto's voice was low, almost restrained, yet it echoed with quiet authority, spreading through the school ground like an invisible weight.

        Her gaze settled first on the first-year, cold, unyielding, like stone that had never known warmth. Under that stare, the boy felt exposed, as if every excuse he might form had already been seen through.

        Then her eyes moved.

        She cast a slow, measured glance toward his associates. The smug smiles they wore only moments ago stiffened, then cracked, confidence draining from their faces as if wiped clean. Averted gazes followed, shoulders tensing, feet sliding back before they even realized they were retreating.

        One step.

        No threats were spoken. No flames were summoned. Yet the message was unmistakable. 

        The arrogant group was already done for by Eto's authority and presence alone. As the Student Council President, and one of the only Level Six mages in Second Shibuya, she didn't even need to rely on raw power.

        And if it came down to literal strength, the other party wouldn't stand a chance either. What had happened earlier made that abundantly clear: Eto had evaporated a first-year's proud water magic into thin air, completely defying the supposed logic that water always overcomes fire.

        "A befitting punishment is to be expected," Eto said, her tone final, ending the matter without a shred of drama.

…

        Aida nodded in agreement, standing beside Eto, who seemed strangely fixated on something. Following her friend's gaze, Aida realized it was a student caught up in the incident—Mikado.