Eminence At Midgard Academy

The train’s rear coupling snapped into place with a metallic jolt, and Cid Kaguno opened his eyes.

Beyond the window, dawn lay pale over the station roofs. Steam crawled along the platform, blurring the guards, the porters, and the academy crest painted on the waiting carriages. Cid adjusted the plain cloth bag at his feet and checked the inside of his coat for the third time.

No mask.

The black mask was sealed inside a false compartment beneath the luggage lining, wrapped in cloth and reinforced with a thin layer of magic. No trace of it showed from outside. His dark coat, academy uniform, and deliberately unimpressive posture completed the appearance of Cid Kaguno, noble by birth and hopelessly weak by reputation.

His immediate objective was simple.

Reach Midgard academy without drawing attention.

After last night, simplicity was valuable.

The memory of the kidnappers still clung to him in fragments: boots scraping stone, frightened voices behind locked doors, the brief flash of a blade under moonlight. He had dealt with the men before they could move the girls. Their employer, however, had escaped into the network of noble names and sealed contracts that made such crimes profitable.

Some nobles bought beautiful girls with strong mana to bear heirs. When the children grew old enough to ask about their mothers, those nobles told them the same convenient lie.

She died before you were born.

Cid had no intention of letting the matter end there. But for now, he needed to board the train, reach school, and preserve the identity he had built over four months in this world.

“Cid!”

Claire’s voice cut through the station noise.

He looked toward the platform and found Claire Kaguno hurrying toward him, her silver hair bright beneath the morning light. She carried herself like someone who had every right to stop an entire train, and the station guards wisely avoided meeting her eyes.

“You nearly missed it,” she said.

“I arrived early.”

“Then you nearly missed it while being early.”

Claire seized his sleeve and pulled him toward the carriage. Her grip was warm, firm, and entirely unnecessary. Cid allowed himself to be dragged.

“You’re still going to the lower section?” she asked.

“It suits me.”

“It suits someone who wants to be bullied.”

“That would be unfortunate.”

Claire stared at him. Concern sharpened her expression, though her hand remained wrapped around his sleeve.

“Keep your head down,” she said. “And if anyone bothers you, tell me.”

“I can manage.”

“I know you can manage.” Her voice softened. “That’s not the same as letting you manage everything alone.”

Cid glanced at her. Claire adored him here with an intensity that exceeded anything he had known before his transportation. He still had not determined whether the world’s one-to-five male-to-female ratio had made sisters more protective or merely made Claire more frightening.

“I’ll be fine,” he said.

She released him only after smoothing a wrinkle from his collar. “Write to me when you arrive.”

The whistle shrieked.

Cid stepped aboard.

The lower-class carriage was crowded with students and luggage. The seats were narrow, the wooden armrests scratched, and the brass fixtures had lost most of their shine. Several boys sprawled across the benches as if the journey had already exhausted them. Around them, girls spoke in low voices, their uniforms and jewelry marking different ranks beneath the queen’s authority.

Cid chose a seat near the rear window.

From there, he could see both doors.

The train lurched forward. Claire remained on the platform until the station began to slide away, one hand raised. Cid lifted his own in response, maintaining the harmless smile expected of a younger brother.

Only when the platform vanished did he let his face go blank.

A pair of girls across the aisle were whispering.

“Did you hear about the estate outside the eastern road?”

“The girls were being transported through it.”

“They said a noble household was involved.”

Cid kept his eyes on the passing fields.

“Lower your voice,” another girl warned. “Those rumors have reached the academy.”

“Then perhaps someone should listen.”

The conversation stopped when three people entered from the adjoining carriage.

The first was a broad-shouldered man in an expensive traveling coat, his gold clasp bearing a noble crest Cid did not recognize. Behind him came two attendants and a young girl in a pale blue dress. Her wrists were covered despite the warmth of the carriage, and she kept her eyes lowered.

The noble glanced over the seats.

“There,” he said. “We’ll use this carriage.”

One attendant moved toward a pair of students. “Stand aside.”

The students obeyed immediately.

Cid lowered his chin. A noble entourage was inconvenient. A noble entourage connected to trafficking was worse.

The girl in blue stumbled as she followed. The attendant caught her arm.

“Careful,” he muttered.

Her sleeve slipped.

A dark bruise circled her wrist.

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