Chapter 2 - The Exam
[Luan's POV]
The morning of the Astraea Scholarship exam, the air in the slums tasted of wet ash and desperation. I woke before the sun, my stomach a tight knot of nerves and hunger. Sitting on the edge of my meager cot, I swallowed the bitter, copper-tasting medicine my mother had left me. I shuddered as the thick liquid went down. I had no idea what the obscure herbs in the recipe did, only her dying warning that my "unique blood" required it to keep a terrible sickness away. It was a heavy price to pay, the concoction always left my body feeling exhausted, frail, and stunted, but a promise was a promise. I wiped my mouth, completely unaware that the muddy brown of my eyes in the cracked mirror was a lie born from those very drops.
Before heading to the Royal Square, I stopped by the library. Master Elian was already awake, waiting for me by the dying embers of the hearth. He didn't offer me a grand speech or a heroic pat on the back. Instead, he handed me a simple, unadorned wooden quill.
"You have the mind of a king, Luan," Elian said, his voice a low, raspy whisper. "But in the halls of the Royal Academy, a sharp mind in a commoner's body is a dangerous thing. The highborn are ruled by their blood, their pheromones, and their immense pride."
He leaned in closer, his old eyes serious. "Take this scholarship but keep your head down. Avoid the Great Houses, especially the Drakovians and the four Duchies. Do not look them in the eye. Do not engage in their politics. Be a ghost who only speaks on paper. Graduate quietly, and you will have your freedom."
"I will, Master Elian," I promised, taking the quill. "I just want to learn. I have no interest in the nobility."
Hours later, I found myself sitting in the grand examination hall of the Royal Academy. The contrast between the gilded, soaring ceilings and my threadbare tunic was almost laughable. The noble proctors, tall, imposing Alphas who looked at the commoner applicants with thinly veiled disgust, handed out the thick stacks of parchment. I caught a few of the other Beta applicants eyeing my small, stunted frame with pity. I looked more like a twelve-year-old beggar than a fifteen-year-old scholar.
But the moment I flipped the exam paper over, the intimidation vanished.
The questions were almost insultingly familiar. Complex political philosophy, the geographical borders of the neighboring kingdoms, advanced mathematical proofs, it was all material I had debated with Master Elian for years by candlelight. While the other applicants groaned and chewed the ends of their quills, my hand flew across the parchment. The answers flowed from my mind with absolute clarity. I finished the exam an hour before the allotted time, quietly placing my paper on the proctor's desk before slipping out the back door.
Two days later, the results were posted on the academy's grand notice board. I stood at the back of the crowd, my heart pounding against my ribs. A collective gasp rippled through the gathered students and nobles. There, written in bold, flawless calligraphy at the very top of the list, was my name.
Rank 1: Luan Woods. (Commoner) I had secured the Astraea Scholarship. I had beaten every pampered noble and highly tutored Alpha in the incoming class. I allowed myself a fleeting, invisible smile, then quickly turned away before anyone could connect the top name on the board to the sickly boy hiding in the shadows.
A week later, I officially stepped onto the Academy grounds for the first day of term, and I immediately realized my studies hadn't prepared me for the physical reality of this place.
The slums smelled of coal, sweat, and rotting fish. But the courtyard of the Royal Academy was a suffocating, invisible wall of scent. As a Beta who had yet to experience any biological shifts, I didn't feel the instinctual pull or submission that came with secondary genders. But the sheer volume of perfumes, spices, crushed pine, ozone, and heavy florals was enough to make my head spin. It was the collective pheromones of hundreds of Alphas and Omegas, wearing their biology like expensive jewelry. I pulled my scarf up over my nose, fighting through a sudden bout of nausea as I navigated the sea of silk and velvet uniforms.
I was just trying to find the quickest route to the library when a sudden commotion caused the crowd to part like the sea.
A massive, extravagantly carved carriage rolled into the main courtyard, pulled by four pristine white horses. The crest on the door caught the morning sun—a silver wolf howling at a crescent moon. The sigil of the Noctis Duchy.
"That's him," a girl next to me whispered, her voice trembling with awe. "The youngest of the Noctis Duchy?" another student asked, standing on his tiptoes. "Yes! I heard he is a rare Omega. He is entirely beloved by the late Duke and fiercely protected by his older brothers. They say he's treated like glass at the estate."
The carriage door opened, and a boy stepped out. He was dressed in impeccably tailored clothes that looked softer than anything I had ever touched. He had dull, perfectly styled gray hair and bright blue eyes. He looked around the courtyard with an air of expected adoration, his chin tilted up in a practiced, haughty manner.
For a fraction of a second, an odd, unexplainable hollowness echoed in my chest as I looked at him. It made no sense. We were worlds apart, him, a beloved noble Omega wrapped in privilege, and me, a stunted commoner surviving on bitter drops and old books.
Master Elian's warning rang in my ears: Avoid the Great Houses. Be a ghost.
I shook my head, dismissing the strange feeling. I didn't care about the Noctis Duchy or their pampered youngest son. I was here to study, to graduate, and to survive. I tightened my grip on the strap of my satchel, turned my back on the extravagant display, and walked quietly toward the academic halls, determined to remain entirely unseen.