Welcome to the Twilight Institute

I peer through the aeroplane window—an expansive campus that could be easily mistaken as an entire country unfolding beneath.

This remarkable sight seamlessly blends with the twilight sky and ominous black clouds, creating an otherworldly panorama.

The collective gasps of the other students speak volumes about their awe and surprise. I, however, am not surprised.

The school’s colossal size was no revelation; it is common knowledge.

I sit back in my seat, unmoved by the gasps around me. The colossal campus sprawls beneath, a kingdom of academia that stretches as far as the eye can see. As the plane descends, the details of the campus become clearer. Rows upon rows of buildings, each one a maze of classrooms, libraries, and laboratories, dot the landscape.

The architecture is a blend of modern and traditional, with sleek glass structures standing alongside ancient brick buildings.

The stewardess announces our arrival, urging everyone to fasten their seat belts. I comply, my gaze still fixed on the approaching spectacle. It’s not that I am unimpressed; it is just expected.

The other students chatter excitedly, speculating about what awaits them.

“Imagine the cultural treasures this place must hold.”

“I heard the local cuisine is a culinary masterpiece. I can’t wait to dive into that!”

“I hope the accommodations are comfortable. A good night’s sleep can make or break the first impression of a place.”

I remain silent; my thoughts are my only companions.

The moment the plane’s wheels make contact with the runway, the subdued murmurs of my fellow students are swiftly drowned out by a deafening symphony of thunderous footsteps.

I follow the stream of enthusiastic students down onto the school’s airport, where we are greeted like a maid greeting their master.

The grandeur of the welcome didn’t escape my notice—a choreographed display to dazzle the newcomers.

“Whoaaaa! This is soooo cooool!

“I know, right? I can’t believe we got in!”

“We’re the best of the best! It’s no surprise we got in.”

Ignoring the unnecessarily enthusiastic dialogue, I wait until the crowd disperses.

As the crowd disperses, I navigate through the swarm of enthusiastic students.

The school’s representatives guide us towards the imposing entrance, adorned with intricate symbols hinting at the magical essence of The Twilight Institute.

Once we reach the entrance hall, a tall, powerful-looking man walks up the stage and tests the microphone.

“Cough cough… Ahem! Welcome students to the wonderful, amazing… Twilight Institute!”

The hall transforms into a realm of auditory chaos, as if a legion of banshees decided to throw a party in my eardrums.

And the quality of these screams. They reverberate through the hall with the finesse of opera singers hitting those high notes.

It is like the entire cast of a horror movie suddenly realised they left the oven on and decided to vocalise their collective distress.

“Your journey here marks the beginning of an extraordinary chapter in your lives. But be warned, the Twilight Institute is no ordinary magic school. Here, magic doesn’t merely occupy a curriculum; it pulses through the very essence of our existence.”

As he speaks, the symbols adorning the walls begin to shimmer, emitting a soft glow that captivates the audience.

“The magic within these walls is not bound by tradition; it’s a force that intertwines with the fabric of our reality. You are not here merely to study spells and incantations. You are here to wield the very essence of magic itself.”

The crowd of students gets louder.

“We encourage you to explore and push the boundaries of what you thought possible. The Twilight Institute is a place where innovation and discovery reign supreme. Embrace the magic within you, and you’ll find that this institute is more than a school—it’s a crucible for the extraordinary.”

The man pauses, scanning the sea of eager faces, then continues with a note of seriousness.

“But with great power comes great responsibility. The magic you wield can shape reality itself. We expect you to use it wisely, with respect for the balance that binds our world. Misuse of magic can have dire consequences, not only for you but for the very fabric of existence.”

A hushed silence falls over the hall as the gravity of his words sinks in. The man’s gaze remains unwavering, his presence commanding attention.

“We thank you for listening attentively, for this marks the commencement of your extraordinary journey within the mystical confines of The Twilight Institute.”

The hall becomes silent momentarily before erupting in cheers and screams.

I remain indifferent, accustomed to such grandiloquent speeches.

As the speech concludes, we are each granted keys with a specific number on them; mine was 4296.

We are escorted out of the hall and into the outside.

I analyse around, noting the grandiosity of the twenty-four dorm buildings. The Twilight Institute doesn’t just live up to its reputation—it exceeds it.

Every building easily surpasses a five-star hotel, complete with luxurious amenities and a pampering staff.

Students mill about, engaged in idle chatter. Some point and whisper, clearly talking about me.

It is no surprise—purple hair is a rare colour, and my indifferent façade doesn’t help.

Ignoring their stares, I make my way towards my dorm. They had wormholes placed around the whole school as a means for fast travel. It’s helpful for long journeys.

Upon unlocking and entering my dorm, I am greeted by an elaborate suite fitted with lavish furnishings and state-of-the-art amenities.

Not too bad.

The Twilight Institute doesn’t lack opulence.

It may not seem like it, but luxury is something I appreciate and value.

“This place is meant for the mighty.”

My remarks carry a heavy burden that lingers. But there was just stillness, that old friend.

Glancing around my dorm, my eyes capture peculiar assortments: a demon heart, a rarity that demanded great effort; a crypt token, undoubtedly earned by the school’s elite; a slew of sci-fi-esque items. Amidst these curiosities, a seemingly out-of-place item caught my attention—a lone condom.

Who knew an elite magic school would have one of these?

My dorm, which featured a bed, prosperous walls, and a bathroom that was above and beyond five stars, was where I moved in.

The ambience within surpassed the mere designation of a five-star hotel; it was a haven of unparalleled indulgence and refinement.

Each detail, meticulously crafted, contributed to an atmosphere of extravagance that transcended the ordinary.

Stepping out of this human paradise for a moment, a gentle reminder plays in my mind—lessons awaited me today.

Stepping outside of human paradise for a moment, I realise that I have lessons today.

Every group of people I saw in the dormitory halls was brimming with a thirst for authority and attention.

I enter the wormhole’s shimmering vortex, ignoring the far-off voices behind me.

As the skewed reality settles, I find myself under the shadow of a massive school structure.

This must be where the classes are.

A gentle tap on my shoulder halts me as I am about to enter the school.

I turn back and find a lime-green-haired boy grinning brightly at me.

“Hello there! Are you new to this school? I’m your upperclassman if you are.”

I look at him expressionlessly, yet he smiles even more.

“Yes, I am new to this school. Who may you be?”

“I’m Sora. Sora Mitsuru. What’s your name?”

“My name is Kiyorakana Kage.”

I withhold any inclination to reciprocate his smile. The choice of my words and the measured tone reveal little, but my internal assessment is thorough.

“Nice to meet you, Kage.”

Sora extended his hand, perhaps for a handshake. Though, in response, I chose not to reciprocate the gesture, my decision was communicated through a subtle shift in posture.

“I prefer that you use my first name.”

“Sorry, Kiyorakana. I’ll make sure to use your first name from now on.”

“It’s fine.”

Sora’s bright grin widens as he continues the conversation, undeterred by my brief responses.

He appears to take the initiative to engage, which demonstrates both confidence and a welcoming temperament. Observing him, it is clear that Sora represents a symbol of peace. His effort in conversation demonstrates more than just simple confidence but also a genuine desire to connect. Sora’s sincere grin and the serenity in his introduction portray a picture of someone who prioritises peace above all else.

He wants everyone to live in harmony with each other.

A horrible decision if you truly desire world peace. And I am certain he already knows.

“So, Kiyorakana, what brings you to our renowned academy? Are you excited about the magical journey that awaits you?”

“I am here to acquire knowledge and hone my abilities. Excitement is irrelevant.”

“Well, Kiyorakana, this place is full of surprises. I’ve been here for a while now, and trust me, every day feels like an adventure. You’ll get used to the magical charm of this school. There’s always something extraordinary happening around here.”

I tilt my head.

“Extraordinary? Well, I would assume so.”

Sora’s jovial conduct doesn’t waver, and he seems determined to break through my reserved exterior.

“Kiyorakana, you’ll discover that our academy is more than just classes and magical training. It’s a location where relationships are formed and friendships are strengthened. Have you made any new friends?”

I raise an eyebrow, considering the concept of friendships in this environment.

“I have just arrived. It’s too early to establish connections.”

Sora chuckles, seemingly undeterred by my pragmatic response.

“Fair point, fair point. But trust me, this school has a way of bringing people together. You might be surprised.”

“This conversation has gone on long enough.”

Sora’s grin persists, and he leans against a nearby pillar, undeterred by my attempts to keep the conversation brief.

“Well, Kiyorakana, even if you’re not seeking friendships, you can’t deny the enchanting atmosphere of the Twilight Institute. There’s an undeniable magic in the air that goes beyond spells and incantations.”

I remain silent, absorbing his enthusiasm for the mystical ambience of the school. Sora seems determined to share his positive outlook.

“Trust me, you’ll find your rhythm here. Maybe even discover something about yourself you never knew.”

I turn and begin moving in the direction of the enormous school building’s entrance.

“That, I doubt.”

The hallways’ twists and turns look never-ending, and it is evident that the institution lacks any easy traversal wormholes to make navigating simpler.

I eventually find my classroom after what feels like an eternity of roaming about. My view is obscured by the abundance of chairs and classmates as I go in.

There are a total of one hundred desks, yet only eighty-six people are here. The instructor is not among them.

I take a seat in what is referred to as the protagonist’s seat—the back corner near the window, away from everyone else—and wait patiently for the class to start.

My attention was drawn to the other eighty-six people while I waited. Amber hair, pink hair, obsidian hair, and brown hair are common hair colours I noticed in this school.

This dark-coloured institution was infected by a rainbow of hair colours.

It somewhat takes the ‘Twilight’ out of ‘Twilight Institute’.

I notice a lone individual seated next to me reading a book; she probably believes acknowledging the hectic classroom is a strain on one’s mind. Which I wouldn’t blame her.

Which makes me think about something: Where is the instructor?

And as if the Outer Gods were listening, the instructor bursts through the door, excluding a strict and unfriendly guise.

Everyone went silent and quickly scurried into their seats. I can see fear in some of their eyes.

The instructor does not look terrible or have a bad personality; she most certainly just has a reputation for expelling students effortlessly. Not to mention, she seems rather irate.

“Alright! I’m going to be your lecturer this week—”

The students quietly communicate and giggle throughout the instructor’s introduction, trying to avert their minds from her.

“QUIET!”

It did not work out well.

The unnecessarily curvy instructor, with her black hair and sharp eyes, bore her gaze on everyone before speaking again.

“My name is Kyoko Shinoda. Now, listen up. Refer to me as Instructor Shinoda. I demand respect, and any deviation from this form of address will not be tolerated. This week, you will descend into the complexities of advanced Dissonance Affinity; you are all smart enough for that. Monday through Friday, 9 AM to 4:35 PM No tardiness will be tolerated. Punctuality is a virtue that I expect each of you to uphold. I will also not hesitate to expel anyone I believe to be a nuisance. This is not a conventional classroom. You’re not ordinary students. You’re part of the Twilight Institute. Consider yourselves fortunate or cursed, depending on your perspective, but I expect you to act like a proper elite student.”

I can already hear the moans and groans of most of my classmates; the lone individual still has her gaze locked onto her book, clearly undeterred by all this.

“I will now be explaining the most basic things you will need to understand about this school. Firstly, magic is to be wielded only within the confines of designated training zones. Any deviation will be met with severe consequences. There is no room for leniency. Secondly, students will be meticulously sorted into working groups based on their average power level. This is not a matter of choice but a necessity for maintaining order and efficiency. Resist this categorization at your peril. Thirdly, leaving the school premises during your enrollment is strictly and unequivocally prohibited. You are here to learn, not to wander. Any attempt to breach this restriction will result in immediate repercussions. Finally, expulsion from any staff member is absolute and final. There will be no appeals unless blatant unfairness is proven, a rare occurrence. The rule board, situated just outside this classroom, contains the detailed framework of your obligations. Ignorance of these rules will not be accepted as an excuse.”

As the teacher continues, her voice becomes more stern and authoritative.

The students in the classroom shift uncomfortably in their seats, realising the seriousness of the rules.

Some exchange worried glances, while others scribble down notes, determined to remember every word.

They know that they will be held accountable for any violations.

One student, however, raises their hand and speaks. What an idiot.

“Uhm, Instructor Shinoda? I don’t want my school life to be—”

“Did I ask you to speak?”

The instructor looks at him with dark, piercing, fear-instilling eyes.

“N-no! Instructor Shinoda!”

“Then grasp the glaringly obvious concept and refrain from polluting the air with your unnecessary input. Simple enough, even for someone of your apparent cognitive capacity. Don’t speak.”

The student, seemingly incapable of grasping the simplest instructions, nods vigorously as if desperately attempting to comprehend.

Yet, this feeble display of acknowledgement is promptly followed by the audacious act of resting their head on the desk.

“And do refrain from using your desk as a makeshift pillow. It is a classroom, not a nap haven. Keep your head off the desk, unless, of course, you have suddenly developed an insatiable desire for a headache.”

The student jumps up; surprisingly, no one laughs or giggles. The solemnity in the air seemingly exceeded the capacity for amusement.

“As previously emphasised, the rule board stands just beyond this classroom, accompanied by its counterpart, the job board. Considering your constrained existence within these walls, we generously provide you with the option to apply for various positions. From the mundane, like cashiers, to the grand, such as training instructors and Dissonance Affinity researchers.”

“The dormitories—by now, you should be acquainted with their functioning. However, let me reiterate for those with selective attention spans: Sexual activity is strictly prohibited.”

Then why is a condom in my dorm?

Who would leave a condom in the dorms?

This place is meant for the mighty, not the horny.

“Consider those the fundamental tenets you must engrave into your consciousness at this esteemed institution. Effective immediately, formal lessons shall commence, and be forewarned, every alternate day will be devoted to rigorous training.”

“So—”

“Do. Not. Speak”

“…”

The silence following those words hangs in the air, an unyielding decree cutting through any potential disruption.

Three hours elapse in relentless productivity. The subject matter? The purported history of Dissonance Affinity—information that, I, for one, am already well acquainted with.

1.1

Once the bell rings, the students walk out of the class and into the hallways. Except for a small group consisting of a red-haired female, a blond boy, and a black-haired boy.

I have a feeling the female will be a problem.

It also seems like the lone individual has left as well, so I guess I will too.

Outside the classroom and in the hallway, a rule and a job board lie.

I read the rules. Some of them are as the instructor mentioned. There are some rules, like:

“Use common sense.”

“Any unsupervised damage to the school results in immediate expulsion.”

“Getting fired from a job will result in a suspension of up to three days.”

And one that stands out to me like pure light in a pitch-black room: “These rules only apply if you are caught.”

That is interesting.

I then skim the jobs. The options range from the mundane to the grandiose, from cashier to training instructor, just like the instructor mentioned. There are even research positions, presumably related to Dissonance Affinity.

[Jobs]

[1. Dissonance Affinity Researcher: 10,680 Twilight Shards^[1] a month]

[2. Training Instructor: 1,170 Twilight Shards a month]

[3. Cashier: 480 Twilight Shards a Month]

[…And more…]

All these jobs sound fine, though they are not necessary for me. However, acquiring one to seem like a normal person seems like the best option.

I continue scrolling through the list of jobs, weighing the pros and cons of each position. The idea of being a cashier doesn’t particularly excite me, but it seems like a simple enough job to blend in with society. Plus, the pay is decent enough.

As my eyes sweep across the job board, I employ not only my visual acuity but also leverage the ambient sounds enveloping me to conduct a rapid yet precise analysis of the individuals engaged in conversation. This auditory scrutiny affords me an immediate and astute understanding of their character.

The crisp, articulate tones of a well-educated individual stand out amidst the cacophony of everyday chatter.

As I observe and listen, I mentally categorise each person I encounter, effortlessly deciphering their social status, confidence level, and even their emotional state.

I contemplate for a while, and I finally decide that taking up a cashier position might be the most inconspicuous way to blend in.

It aligns with the notion of a typical student, reducing the chances of drawing unnecessary attention.

The pay is reasonable, and it won’t interfere significantly with my primary goal.

Upon reaching the application area, I find myself in a line of students, each awaiting their turn to express interest in various positions.

As I wait, I observe the interactions around me, noting the different attitudes and expressions displayed by my fellow students.

Some seem genuinely excited about the prospect of a job, while others appear indifferent, perhaps considering it more of a necessity than a choice.

When it’s finally my turn, I attempt to express my interest in the cashier position, maintaining a composed demeanour.

The administrator takes note of my choice, providing me with the necessary information and forms to fill out. I complete the process efficiently, keeping my responses concise and to the point.

I have made my decision, and I navigate the bustling halls towards the designated area to apply for the cashier position.

As I walk, I continue my subtle analysis of the students around me.

I note this as I pass through the diverse crowd, mentally cataloguing the characteristics of those I encounter.

Walking through the labyrinthine hallways, I encounter the same girl with long, spiky red hair. Our eyes lock for a moment—narrow gazes meeting with implied intensity.

Without uttering a word, I continue on my way, maintaining my indifferent façade. I can sense her looking back at me, perhaps out of curiosity.

Who was that individual? They exuded great power. It didn’t feel like Dissonance Affinity. It was something else.

…

I guess I am curious too.

* * *

I step out of the imposing school building, my silent footsteps echoing in the empty corridors. The night air greets me as I ascend to the roof, a solitary figure against the backdrop of the constantly darkened sky.

The school, with its sprawling campus, seems to lose its imposing nature when viewed from this elevated perspective.

This ‘Earth’ planet is more appealing than I imagined. The darkness, far from oppressive, carries a serene beauty of its own.

The faint shimmer of distant stars and the occasional passing of celestial bodies create a celestial dance that captivates even my indifferent gaze.

The serenity of the night is abruptly halted by a sudden thud behind me. I turn, my expression unchanged, as the door swings open, breaking the stillness with a metallic groan.

A figure emerges into the moonlit night, their footsteps resonating on the rooftop. It’s a fellow student, oblivious to my silent presence.

It is the green-haired boy from earlier, Sora Mitsuru.

He steps onto the roof, his eyes slightly widening in surprise as he notices me standing there. A smile plays on his lips, undeterred by the unexpected encounter.

“Ah, Kiyorakana! I wasn’t expecting you to be here.”

“Same for you. Why are you here?”

My voice, though cold and unemotional, conveys no hostility.

Sora walks towards me, a warm grin illuminating his face.

We stand next to each other, gazing out at the vast, expansive view before us.

“I’m just here to watch the amazing view.”

His voice is quiet, yet there’s an underlying current of strength.

“I see.”

We stand there for a few moments, the silence comfortable.

“So, Kiyorakana, how are you liking the Twilight Institute so far?”

“It is fine.”

“I know it’s a lot to take in. But trust me, this place has a way of growing on you.”

“If that is what you say.”

“What about you? What brings you up here tonight?”

“I wanted to take fresh air.”

Sora looks back at the starlit sky, his gaze thoughtful.

“Fresh air, huh? This view is truly breathtaking.”

“Indeed.”

We stay quiet for a bit, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere; I, surprisingly, break the silence first.

“Sora Mitsuru. What Affinities have been granted to you?”

His smile falters slightly, replaced with a hint of wariness.

“Affinity? Kiyorakana, surely, we shouldn’t talk about—”

“Answer.”

He pauses, his emerald gaze fixed on mine.

“I have four… terrible ones.”

Four? I had expected him to have at most two. But four? A rarity I have never witnessed. He is not lying, either.

“And what are those four?”

I maintained my composure, concealing any surprise I may have felt. Sora shifts, his stance betraying a hint of discomfort. He hesitates.

“…I can induce horrifying nightmares onto an individual, I can even empower the intensity of the pain they experience… According to the D.A.R., I can also let out an explosion that immensely speeds up the decay of things, like plants, for example… and Void Implosion… I don’t know what ‘Void Implosion’ does… but it can’t be good.”

“Interesting.”

“I’m not sure how I’m ever going to be an icon of peace with such destructive Affinities.”

“It is the nature of Dissonance Affinity. I am sure you have realised that by now.”

“Yeah. It’s just frustrating sometimes.”

I remain silent.

Nightmare inducement and pain empowerment are standard, albeit rare. Void implosion and entropy explosion, on the other hand, could be considered very dangerous for Earth. Though underestimating Earth would be a foolish thing to do.

“You are a rarity. Four Affinities is a feat I have not, until now, seen achieved.”

“That makes me feel slightly more important… thanks.”

We remain on the rooftop; the silence is no longer ill-at-ease.

“Well, I better get going. It’s getting late, and Instructor Shinoda would kill us if she found us out here.”

Sora turns, his emerald gaze reflecting the stars above.

“Goodbye, Sora Mitsuru.”

“See you, Kiyorakana!”

He walks towards the door, pausing for a moment before turning the handle. His footsteps echo on the stairs.

“You can come out now.”

I hear a gasp from behind the door, followed by hesitant footsteps.

A petite, pink-haired girl emerges, her violet gaze filled with awe.

“H-how did you notice me, Kiyorakana?”

“You are weak at hiding your presence. It is not hard for anyone to discover you eavesdropping.”

She blushes, clearly embarrassed, and looks away.

“I’m sorry! I was just looking for Sora, and I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, a-and—”

“It is fine.”

She paused, taken aback by my indifferent response.

“O-oh. Alright, Kiyorakana.”

“Sora Mitsuru has left, so you can leave now.”

“Right! Bye Kiyorakana.”

Her embarrassment dissipates, replaced with a cheerful grin.

I remain on the rooftop, the stillness again broken.

I guess I should head back to my dorm.

As I make my way back, a tall, arrogant-looking blonde boy approaches, his gaze carrying a note of disdain.

The same one from the redhead’s group.

“Hey, purple-hair. You’re new, right?”

I maintain my indifferent façade, analysing him.

He is powerful, but not extraordinary.

“Yes, I am new. I am in your class.”

“That doesn’t matter; you look weak, and I can’t wait to destroy you tomorrow!”

“You are talking about the training day tomorrow, right? No one knows what it is going to be.”

He laughs mockingly.

“You have an excellent memory. But it won’t save you. Cause I’m gonna wipe the floor with you.”

I stay unconcerned, analysing him and ignoring his taunts.

Blondie strides confidently by me.

“I will hold you to that.”

Blondie boy returns his gaze, his pupils constricted. His eyes are filled with a cold, calculating intensity.

“Fine. Just don’t expect mercy.”

“Mercy is not needed.”

His smirk fades slightly as he realises I am not intimidated by his threats. I can see the doubt creeping into his eyes, but he quickly regains his composure.

I know that underestimating me will be his downfall, and I will love to see the look on his face when that happens.

Undaunted by his haughtiness, I continue on my way.

“Hey! Don’t walk away from me! Do you have any idea who I am?!”

I don’t return his gaze. And I can feel his seething stare.

“An arrogant imbecile.”

I’ve dealt with countless arrogant individuals like him before, and they all end up the same: defeated and humbled.

He’s desperate for a reaction. But I won’t give him satisfaction. I have a task to complete, and this arrogant imbecile is just a minor obstacle in my path.

1.2

I enter my dorm room and fall flat onto my bed.

With a heavy sigh, I momentarily detach myself from the surroundings, letting the stillness settle within the room.

The dormitory, like a cocoon of tranquillity, offers a respite from the outside world. It is a space where the ceaseless echoes of magical academia give way to momentary peace. Unlike the Other Realm.

As I lie on the bed, a subtle shift in the air alerts me to a presence.

The door creaks open, and a sliver of light spills into the room. The petite, pink-haired girl from the rooftop cautiously enters.

“Hey, Kiyorakana?”

I open my eyes, acknowledging her presence without uttering a word. She stands near the entrance, her eyes wandering around the room as if absorbing its opulence.

“I, um, just wanted to say sorry again for eavesdropping.”

She stammers, her gaze eventually meeting mine.

“It is fine.”

She takes a tentative step forward, her hands fidgeting nervously.

“I just thought you might be lonely, and, well, I could use a friend. If you’re okay with that.”

I observe her sincerity and the genuine desire for connection in her eyes. I sit up, propping myself against the plush pillows.

“Friendship is irrelevant, but you may stay if you wish.”

Her face lights up with a smile, and she takes a seat on the edge of my bed.

“Say, how did you find my dorm?”

The atmosphere in the room changes, and the air becomes less tense. She seems genuinely pleased by my response, her smile widening.

“Well, I may or may not have followed you. Not in a creepy way, though! I just thought, you know, it would be nice to have someone to talk to.”

Her explanation carries an earnest tone, and I can detect a hint of vulnerability beneath her cheerful exterior. I decide to indulge her in conversation, if only briefly.

“There is no need to follow. I do not require companionship.”

Her enthusiasm doesn’t waver, and she leans in with curiosity.

“But don’t you get lonely? It’s a big, unfamiliar place, and having someone around can make it feel less overwhelming.”

I remain stoic, considering her perspective. Loneliness is an abstract concept to me, and I navigate the world without the emotional weight that often accompanies it.

“I do not experience loneliness. It is an irrelevant emotion.”

She tilts her head, studying me as if trying to unravel the complexities hidden behind my indifferent demeanour.

“Well, if you ever change your mind, I’ll be around. I’m Kokoro Aisuru, by the way.”

Her name, Kokoro Aisuru, lingers in the air, and she extends her hand for a handshake. I observe the gesture, a social nicety I’m not accustomed to.

As Kokoro extends her hand, a customary gesture in this world of social intricacies, I observe the delicacy of the exchange.

It’s a mundane human interaction yet laden with unspoken meanings.

I hesitate for a moment, assessing the situation.

The concept of friendship is foreign to me, an unnecessary complication in the grand scheme of my mission.

Nevertheless, the genuine warmth in Kokoro’s eyes stirs a curiosity within, a flicker of something undefined.

In acknowledgement of her sincerity, I extend my hand, mirroring the customary greeting. Our hands meet, and the contact is brief but, surprisingly, not devoid of significance.

Kokoro’s smile widens, and for a fleeting moment, the room is permeated with an inexplicable warmth.

“Nice to meet you, Kiyorakana!”

She seems genuinely pleased, unaffected by the undercurrents that course through my analytical mind.

The air lightens, and I find myself intrigued by the simplicity of this human exchange.

“Nice to meet you too, Kokoro Aisuru.”

As we retract our hands, she maintains her position on the edge of the bed, her eyes gleaming with a newfound excitement.

The room, once a sanctuary of solitude, now carries the subtle echoes of camaraderie.

“So, Kiyorakana, what do you like to do for fun?”

The question catches me off guard. Fun is an alien concept, a luxury I cannot afford in the pursuit of my objectives. Yet, I sense genuine curiosity in Kokoro’s inquiry.

“I do not engage in activities for entertainment. My purpose here is different.”

Her eyebrows furrow slightly, processing my response. My perspective on existence doesn’t align with her more mundane expectations.

“Oh, come on! Everyone needs a break sometimes. There must be something you enjoy.”

Her optimism is relentless, and I find myself considering the notion.

The air of the dorm room transforms, becoming a canvas for a conversation that transcends the barriers of my usual detached demeanour.

“Something I enjoy… Possibly observing the celestial bodies in the sky.”

Kokoro’s eyes light up with interest, her enthusiasm undeterred by the unconventional nature of my answer.

“That sounds amazing! I’d love to hear more about it sometime.”

The unexpected warmth of her acceptance sparks a subtle shift within me.

It is a minuscule crack in the facade, an acknowledgement that perhaps there’s more to this human experience than the singular focus of my mission.

“As you wish. However, such discussions hold no inherent value.”

She chuckles, seemingly undeterred by my response.

“Value or not, it’s about sharing something you love. That’s what makes connections, right?”

The concept of connections—intertwining lives for the sake of shared interests—is foreign but intriguing. I choose not to delve into the intricacies of human relationships, focusing instead on the immediate interaction.

Kokoro leans back on my bed, and her eyes fix on the ceiling.

“Well, we can worry about the value later. For now, let’s just enjoy the fact that we’re having a conversation.”

Her perspective, while alien to me, resonates with the simplicity of the moment.

“I have lectures in thirty minutes.”

“Oh, alright. I’ll see you later then!”

“I did not say you have to leave.”

The subtle echoes of camaraderie linger as Kokoro eventually rises from the bed. “Well, I should let you prepare for your lectures. But, Kiyorakana, thanks for letting me in.”

“There was no explicit permission required.”

She chuckles, unaffected by my literal interpretation.

“True, true. Well, I’ll catch you later then.”

As she exits the room, the door creaks shut, leaving behind a quiet solitude.

I sit for a moment, contemplating the nuances of the interaction.

It’s a deviation—a subtle divergence from the calculated path I’ve set for myself. Kokoro’s presence, though inconsequential in the grand scheme, introduces an element of unpredictability.

Humanity is a mystery that I will never truly understand.

I get up from my bed and walk over to the window, staring out at the world below. Kokoro’s visit, however brief, has sparked a curiosity within me.

I shouldn’t stray from my objective; the curse of Dissonance Affinity must be eliminated from all beings.

I move from the window to the front door and pause for a moment, conflicted. The allure of exploring the unknown entices me, but I remind myself of the importance of my mission.

With a resolute sigh, I reach for the doorknob and step into the hallway.

* * *

After another mundane three hours of lecture, it is around 6 PM, or that is what the time-telling round thing on the wall says.

I notice the red-headed female staring at me while the blonde boy is arrogantly speaking to her.

The lone individual has not left yet either.

I attempt to speak to the individual, but it does not go well, and I am ultimately ignored.

With that, I take an hour of fresh air outside before heading to the dorms.

As I stroll outside, the gentle breeze provides a welcomed respite from the tension inside.

However, my peaceful moment is short-lived, as I quickly realise that there seems to be something amiss. As I walk past other individuals, I notice them actively avoiding me, their faces contorted with fear and unease.

Are they fearful of me? Did I reveal myself somehow? No, such a thing is certainly not possible. My aura must be the cause; I must have unintentionally set it off once more.

Though usually, something significant occurs shortly afterwards. Unless that criterion only applies to the Other Realm.

In any case, I should return to my room and bide my time until the training day tomorrow. The redhead girl piques my curiosity; she may be capable of more than just Dissonance Affinity.