The moment the lights cut out, Yuki’s whisper floated ay ear.

  “Ryu… you’re in danger here.”

  I stiffened. My breath hitched. My throat already felt raw, and I shook my head wearily. I didn’t know how much more danger I could take today.

  The darkness stretched, heavy, unnatural. No shifting bodies. less murmurs. Just plete, unbroken silence.

  Then—

  A single spotlight fred to life, cutting through the pitch-bck auditorium like a bde.

  A woman stood ter stage.

  Tall. Poised. Dark hair, sharp bangs cut with the precision of a sword stroke. A long, sleeveless qipao with ink-bck fabric that shimmered like ravehers uhe light. Thin, bck gloves covered her fingers all the way to just past her elbows. A bck veil draped over her face, obsg her features entirely.

  She took soft, deliberate, almost meical steps towards the bck marble podium in the middle of the stage. The veil cealed her expression, but there was an uling gra the way she moved – fluid, yet unnatural.

  Her voice, however, was warm. Weling. Too weling.

  “First-years… Wele to Crest Moon Academy.”

  The silence broke. A rustle of movement. Some students straightened. Others nodded in respect. I kept my back stiff and my fak, because I knew better than to trust anything here.

  “I’d like to wele you on behalf of Madame Kuroha Kagome, our beloved headmistress. She sends her formal apologies that certain other matters require her attention. I’m Hina Suiren, the student provost, and it is an honor to… make our home yours,”

  Her voice smooth as marble. And just as cold.

  “The transition to high school is aing time in your lives – a time of discovery, of growth of f friendships that will st a lifetime.”

  A pause.

  Then, a smile I could hear but not see.

  “And in some of your cases… multiple lifetimes.”

  A low chuckle rippled through the auditorium. I didn’t ugh.

  “This academy is not like human institutions. Here, we prepare you for something greater. The world is ging, my dear students. No longer youkai, spirits, and even the rare humans who wield magic exist only in the shadows.”

  She took a step forward, the mic stand casting a long, jagged shadow behind her.

  “For turies, we have hidden. Disguised. Feared what would happen if the numerous humans ever learhe truth. But ye of hiding is ing to an end. You staoday because you wish to bee a bridge between two worlds.”

  “This school exists to give you the tools to walk among humans, ued. To uand them. To bee them, if you choose. It has dohis for turies—ever sihe Age of so-called Reason. Mankind foolishly traded wonder for rationalization. Aepped into the shadows to enjoy the fruits of their bargain… and sometimes, them.”

  Crest Moon Academy wasn’t just about edug youkai. It was about making them indistinguishable from humans. Sending them out to live as predators in disguise.

  A pce to craft perfect impostors.

  And it had been doing this for hundreds of years.

  I swallowed hard.

  Here I sat, among them. Helpless to warn anyone.

  Who would even believe me?

  Then Hina’s voice softened, like she was letting us in on a secret.

  “Of course, we uand that many of you e from… difficult backgrounds. Some of you may have had unfortunate enters with humanity.”

  The air in the room ged. A hushed whispers passed through the crowd—low murmurs, the faint scrape of cws against wood.

  The speaker raised her hand. The auditorium fell silent again.

  “Let me be clear,” she said. “This is not a pce fes. This is not a pce for vengeance. If you are here, you have already made your choice. You will learn to live as a human. To pass as oo survive as one. And when you graduate, you will leave here with everything you o walk among them.”

  She paused.

  “That being said, though… we at the Academy uand that you are irely human. Even if you hare human ary, the sed you’re taught to jure spells, exercise spirits, el your kei-” she looked around, stopping for a moment emphasize her words.

  “-you separate yourselves from them. You’re different from the other humans around you, and, hence, you bee eligible to join our academy.”

  A few students shifted around me.

  “Some of you… tengu, oni, orc…”

  Hina looked around, her veiled expression unreadable.

  “Some of you were born into flict. Some of you live by it, are defined by it. Some of you will die by it. A me be perfectly clear,” she said.

  I could hear her smiling under her veil.

  But her tone made my blood run cold.

  “… we respect that here.”

  With that, about half the students in attenda to their feet and cheered.

  The entire auditorium shook with their yells and cheers. Azuki’s face shifted again as her hands went to her ears – ears that suddenly decided they should be on top of her head.

  “ENOUGH.”

  Sensei Suiren’s voice was not loud. Instead, it simply cut through all the noise – as delicately as a scalpel through skin.

  A breath ter, everyone was sitting down again.

  Silent.

  Her veiled gaze swept over the crowd, and for a moment, I swore she was looking right at me.

  “But respect must be earned,” she said, her smile sharpening.

  “Your teachers will tell you more about that tomorrow during your first css. The world beyond these school walls and swirling mist is watg. And we will prepare you for that world accly.”

  A pause. Then, her arms spread slightly.

  An invitation?

  No.

  A warning.

  A promise.

  “Let’s begin your neter properly. The reception is waiting.”

  She cpped once.

  The lights fred back to life, erasing the darkness as though it never existed.

  The world jolted bato normalcy—students stretg, whispering, shifting in their seats.

  The tension faded, but not pletely.

  The message was clear: This was not a school. This was an experiment.

  I exhaled slowly.

  My fingers dug into my knees.

  Yuki’s whisper lingered in my ear like a bad omen.

  “You’re in danger here.”

  The students filed out, buzzing with chatter, but I wasn’t listening. My brain was still catg up, repying the speech over and ain, trying to dissect its meaning.

  Then—Azuki moved in front of me.

  And bowed. Deeply.

  Formally.

  Not the casual nod of aowledgment I’d seeween students. A full-on, traditional bow. I looked around, seeing other students turning their heads as they left the auditorium.

  I stiffened. “Uh… Azuki?”

  She straightened, eyes wide with something that looked a lot like awe.

  “Ryu Kazeyama,” she said, her voice reverent. “The Dragon of the Windy Mountain. I am hoo have met you.”

  The surrounding students stopped and stared.

  And that’s when I knew—I had a problem.

  A few snickers broke out from the students leaving the auditorium.

  One guy walking past chuckled under his breath. “Blond dragon, huh? That’s a new one.” He snorted.

  Shion took a sharp breath before she burst out ughing.

  I turo her, desperate for some kind of expnation. “Why the hell is she bowing?”

  Shion smirked. “I mean… I could be wrong, but I think our tanuki friend here believes you’re an actual dragon.”

  Azuki turned pink. “It would be improper to assume otherwise.”

  “Oh my god.”

  Shion wiped at her eye, still giggling. “Rex, it’s not the worst thing. A lot of the first-years probably think you’re something more than human.”

  “Well, they’re gonna be disappointed,” I muttered.

  Shion’s grin widened. “Yeah, I firm that. I’ve tasted your blood, and you—” she poked me in the chest, “—are depressingly human.”

  Azuki’s face twisted in sdalized horror. “Shion! You drank from the Dragon of the Windy Mountain?! What if he cursed you?”

  Shion snorted. “Trust me, the only curse he’s got is that dumb look on his face right now.”

  I ran a hand through my hair, already exhausted. “ we please put ao this?”

  Shion still smirking. “Nah. Actually, I think this might be helpful.”

  “How?!”

  She crossed her arms and tilted her head slightly, looking at me as though I were stupid.

  “You heard the speech. This school is built on perception. If people think you’re dangerous, they’ll leave you alone.”

  I frowned. “You mean if people think I’m a dragon, I’ll be safer? That’s a dangerous bluff.”

  Shion leaned in, voice dropping to a pyful whisper. “Maybe… but… do you wanhe poor bastard who gets on a dragon’s bad side?”

  I didn’t answer because I already khe truth.

  I wasn’t a dragon. I wasn’t a vampire. I wasn’t a spirit or an onmyoji or a damn thing that belonged in this world.

  I was just a guy. No, I was a middle aged man in a kid’s body.

  And I was in way, way too deep.

  Shion chuckled, patting me on the shoulder. “Cheer up, ‘Dragon of the Windy Mountain.’ If anyone asks, I’ll totally back you up.”

  Azuki nodded eagerly. “As will I!”

  A cold sensation on my old me that Yuki was trying to get my attention.

  “Ryu.”

  Yuki’s voice, barely a whisper, slipped through the cold air.

  “They’re watg you, Ryu.”

  My stomach dropped.

  She didn’t say who.

  And that was the part that scared me.