Steam filled the room.

  The bathroom was a bright, immaculate white, softened by the golden light streaming through a wide window.

  Nothing ostentatious: a stone-carved basin, a few shelves, a polished mirror, and above all, at the center, a broad marble tub where the water still shimmered with heat.

  Kael was half-submerged in it, back against the edge, legs stretched out, arms hanging loosely on either side.

  He was smiling, eyes half-closed, like a man who had finally conquered something important.

  “Officially,” he murmured, “this is the best day of my life.”

  He slid a little lower, savoring the warmth of the marble against his skin.

  “Finally, no one can call me a stinking rat again.”he added with a muffled laugh.

  Water traced shimmering lines down his torso, revealing once more his natural skin tone.

  His hair—light brown—caught the daylight, loose, soft, clean for the first time in weeks.

  After a while, he finally pushed himself upright.

  The mirror on the wall reflected a tired face, still marked by the stubborn dark circles he never quite managed to get rid of—but that he had almost claimed as a signature.

  “I… lost weight, didn’t I?”

  He leaned closer, turned sideways, pinched the skin of his flank.

  “How many days has it been since I last ate?”

  A nervous little laugh escaped him.

  “I’m starving, actually.”

  He stepped out of the bath, grabbed a thick towel, and dried himself slowly.

  The cool air of the room made him shiver.

  When he returned to the bedroom, the scent of clean linen mixed with the remnants of steam.

  The black uniform was still neatly folded on the bed.

  Kael picked it up with two fingers, examined it again, and sighed.

  “Still ugly,” he muttered.

  But he put it on anyway.

  The long-sleeved tunic fell smoothly across his torso.

  Despite its coarse appearance, the fabric moved with a surprising ease.

  The trousers, straight and flexible, fit perfectly at the hips, and the shoes—plain and unadorned—slipped on like well-worn leather.

  “Well…” he conceded, feigning annoyance.

  “It might not be a masterpiece, but at least it’s comfortable.”

  He fastened the tunic’s collar, tightened the belt, and took a few steps across the room.

  That’s when the bells rang.

  Their resonance filled the entire Institute, a deep, clear sound vibrating through the walls.

  Kael looked toward the window, listening.

  “Well… I guess it’s feast time.”

  Kael walked down the corridor he had taken earlier.

  His footsteps echoed faintly across the tiles.

  “Will she be there?” he muttered to himself.

  “Her Trial is coming up too, right?”

  He paused, a bitter smile tugging at his lips.

  “No… she’s a princess. Why would she ever need to come here?”

  The silence of the hallway answered him.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  He didn’t cross paths with anyone—not in the stairs, not in the galleries.

  Everything was strangely empty… until he began to hear, in the distance, a low rumble.

  Voices.

  Lots of voices.

  His pace slowed without him realizing it.

  The murmur grew louder, filling the space with laughter, conversations, sharp bursts of excitement.

  His heartbeat quickened.

  He felt tense—almost overwhelmed.

  Then he pushed the door open.

  The Bearers’ Hall had transformed.

  Long tables stretched in orderly rows, each several meters long.

  Dozens of young people were already seated—boys and girls—likely all from noble or high-born families.

  They were beautiful.

  Not the kind of beauty born from life—no.

  The kind that only exists in people who have never had to survive anything.

  Smooth skin, symmetrical features, hair so silky it looked unreal, shimmering golds and silvers.

  Their laughter filled the room.

  Their gestures were graceful, their voices confident.

  Kael stood frozen at the entrance, completely unsure where to go.

  A bearer walked right past him, distracted.

  “These lessons are so boring,” he told a friend. “Everyone already knows the difference between Intensification and Permanence.”

  They kept going without even noticing Kael.

  He blinked several times, as if the scene refused to make sense.

  Why are they… laughing?

  They should be terrified—their Trials can kill them.

  But his stomach had its own priorities and growled loudly.

  “Well… stomach first,” he muttered under his breath.

  Guided by the smell of food, he drifted into the room like a man possessed.

  Warm bread, roasted meat, and spices thickened the air.

  At a counter, a man was waiting with several trays of food.

  The server wore a simple tunic tied with a cord, sleeves rolled up to the elbows.

  A spotless white cloth rested over one forearm.

  “ First day, sir? ” he asked.

  Kael nodded.

  “I… yeah.”

  “In that case, take a seat with the others. Service will come to you.”

  Kael thanked him with a nod and moved away.

  Crossing the hall, he noticed a small crowd gathered around one of the central tables.

  The young nobles seemed to be listening to someone with great attention, but Kael didn’t bother to look closer and chose an empty table off to the side.

  He sat down.

  No one across from him, no one beside him.

  Two girls passed behind him, giggling softly.

  “Apparently someone just joined the Institute,” said one.

  “And he’s from the Broken Crown!”

  “Impossible,” replied the other, scandalized.

  “A peasant like that must be easy to spot.”

  “Let’s find him!”

  Kael rolled his eyes.

  “Great… brilliant idea coming here to eat,” he grumbled.

  He glanced back toward the crowd at the center—but didn’t get the chance to see what they were gathered around.

  A servant appeared at his side, carrying a heavily loaded tray.

  “Your meal, sir. A large round honey-glazed loaf, slices of roasted meat drizzled with scented oil, seasoned legumes…”

  Kael froze, almost moved.

  “If this is the torture before the Trial, I’m in,” he murmured, grabbing the bread.

  He didn’t know it yet, but eyes were already turning toward him from the other side of the hall.

  Kael dug into his meal without ceremony.

  He tore the warm bread apart with both hands, dipped a piece into the golden sauce, and brought it straight to his mouth.

  The meat melted on his tongue, fragrant with herbs.

  As he ate, more Bearers sat down around him.

  They said nothing at first, but their eyes lingered—curious, disdainful, or both.

  When he started devouring the figs without using a single utensil, the whispers began.

  “He eats like an animal…”

  “Look at him—he doesn’t even have manners.”

  “A real savage,” another muttered with a small laugh.

  Kael ignored them.

  His hunger spoke louder than their voices.

  He emptied the carafe of cool water into his cup, drank it all in one go, then let out a long, satisfied sigh.

  “Ah… haven’t eaten that well in ages,” he said, leaning back slightly on the bench.

  His gaze drifted for a moment before a mischievous smile curved his lips.

  “With all this food, I could’ve fed that damn rat myself… instead of him stealing from me every night.”

  Around him, conversations stopped.

  A young girl with pale hair wrinkled her nose.

  “A… rat?”

  “That’s right,” Kael said with a shrug.

  “He lived under my bed, the little thief. We almost ended up cohabiting, him and me.”

  Another girl, horrified, whispered to her friend:

  “Oh gods… he talks about rats like he talks about neighbors.”

  “And he’s smiling about it,” the other grimaced.

  Kael gave an ironic little smile.

  “You’d be surprised how polite rats can be.”

  A few muffled laughs rippled across the room—but not all were friendly.

  That was when a group of three boys approached.

  The first was pudgy, his face covered with a thin sheen of sweat, shuffling his feet as he walked.

  The second was broad-shouldered but clumsy-looking, with a low forehead and a foolish grin permanently glued to his face.

  The third, however, stood out immediately: sharp features, an aquiline nose, a face carved like stone.

  His brown hair was neatly parted down the middle, the sides cut short.

  He walked with the assured gait of someone born to be obeyed.

  They stopped in front of Kael.

  “You’re the new one?” the leader asked, his voice cold and sharp.

  The tone wasn’t a question.

  There was something in his stare—an inspection, as if he were evaluating an object forced into his presence.

  Kael lifted his eyes slowly, finished chewing a piece of bread, swallowed, then replied lightly:

  “That depends. You looking for a hero or a problem?”

  Silence fell around them.

  The leader narrowed his eyes, while the bulky boy behind him snickered.

  “Yeah… it’s you,” he muttered.