As an Ordinary person (Why do I keep attracting Psychopaths?)

Yuna stepped into the Hearts classroom, her gaze sweeping across the room with mild curiosity—and a healthy dose of skepticism. It was spacious, lined with tall arched windows that let in the morning light, illuminating the rich wooden desks arranged in neat rows. The walls were adorned with intricate tapestries—all heart-themed, of course.

Yuna resisted the urge to sigh at the sheer dedication to the motif.

Seriously. Hearts. Everywhere.

It was like someone took the concept of love and decided to bludgeon everyone over the head with it. At the very least, it wasn't pink overload like the dormitory, which looked like a sugar-induced fever dream. The aesthetic here was more refined—deep crimson banners, golden embroidery, a certain elegance that almost redeemed the excessive heart symbols carved into the furniture. Almost.

She moved toward an empty desk near the back, setting her books down and watching as the other students filtered in. The Hearts team was an interesting mix—not just cheerful, romantic types, but also intense, passionate individuals, some exuding confidence, others quiet but undeniably sharp.

Yuna tapped her fingers against the desk, deep in thought. Despite her reluctance to be placed in Hearts, she couldn't deny her curiosity.

What kind of subjects would they be learning? Would it be different from what the other card groups studied? Would she finally learn something actually useful instead of the same rehashed nonsense she was force-fed at her previous academy?

She hoped so. If she had to sit through another dull lecture about "the power of unity and cooperation," she might just learn magic to make herself disappear.

Her musings were interrupted by a poke against her arm.

Yuna blinked and turned her head.

A girl with wavy green hair and light brown eyes grinned at her, chin resting on her hand as she poked Yuna again for good measure.

"Hey, you," The girl said, tilting her head. "You've been staring at everyone like you're analyzing an inanimate object. First-day nerves, or are you secretly plotting something?"

Yuna raised a brow. "...I think you're overanalyzing my overanalyzing."

The girl laughed, resting her cheek against her hand. "Fair enough. I'm Celeste Aldrin, by the way. And you?"

Yuna glanced at her for a moment before sighing in resignation. "Yuna."

Celeste's grin widened. "Just Yuna? No last name?"

"Just Yuna," She confirmed.

Celeste didn't pry further, only giving her a playful nudge. "Well, Just Yuna, I'll be your desk neighbor from now on. Hope you don't mind me poking you whenever I get bored."

Yuna gave her a flat look. "I mind already."

Celeste only laughed. "Too late. You're stuck with me now."

Yuna stared at her in mild horror. This was it. This was how it began. The slow, insidious invasion of her personal space. It was always the overly friendly ones that were the most dangerous.

The classroom gradually settled as the last few students took their seats, murmurs dying down into a hush of quiet anticipation. Yuna had just begun flipping idly through her book when the doors at the front of the room creaked open.

A tall figure stepped inside.

The moment he entered, the temperature of the room seemed to shift—not literally, but in atmosphere. His presence was commanding yet distant, as if he existed just a step apart from everything around him. His attire was sharp and formal, a long black coat sweeping behind him as he walked with measured, unhurried steps toward the teacher's desk.

But it was his mask that truly stood out.

A sleek, porcelain-white mask covered the upper half of his face, obscuring his eyes entirely. It was simple yet unsettling, adorned with no unnecessary embellishments—just a cold, blank stare from hollowed-out eye sockets.

'Oh great,' Yuna thought dryly. 'Our teacher is a gothic masquerade ghost.'

She was secretly hoping for that lazy teacher to be her homeroom teacher. Don't tell her that she get the worst end of the stick and get a strict teacher she didn't want?!

When the teacher spoke, his voice was low and even, carrying effortlessly across the silent room.

"Welcome to your first day at Evigheden Academy."

A few students straightened in their seats, some exchanging uncertain glances. Yuna also sat straight.

The man placed a gloved hand on the desk, his fingers tapping against the wood in an absent, rhythmic manner.

"I am your homeroom teacher. You may address me as Professor Veyne."

He did not bow, nor did he smile. He simply let the weight of his presence settle over them like an unspoken challenge.

A girl near the front hesitantly raised a hand. "Um… Professor? If you don't mind me asking… why the mask?"

A long silence stretched between them.

Then, his fingers stilled.

"I do mind."

The girl shrank slightly in her seat.

Yuna resisted the urge to smirk. Interesting. But also dreadful…he looks moody…

Professor Veyne straightened, glancing briefly across the room before continuing.

"Hearts, Spades, Clubs, Diamonds… I assume by now, you all understand your assigned placement. What you do not yet understand is what that placement truly means."

His voice was steady, detached—almost indifferent.

"Your rank in society, your achievements before stepping foot in this academy… None of that holds meaning here. Your suit is your identity now. How you wield it—how you rise or fall within it—is entirely up to you."

The room was utterly silent.

Yuna tapped a finger against her book, observing the way some students bristled at his words while others sat rigidly, hanging onto every syllable.

Professor Veyne exhaled slowly, straightening his gloves.

"I do not care about your past. I do not care about your opinions. I do not care how you achieve things. I care only for results."

He clasped his hands behind his back, the movement precise and practiced.

"You will either thrive under my instruction… or you will crumble. Choose wisely."

'Oh, fantastic,' Yuna thought, fighting the urge to drop her head against her desk. 'A teacher who treats education like a battlefield. Love that for us.'

And just like that, class began.

…..

Professor Veyne turned, picking up a piece of chalk with practiced ease. The sound of it scraping against the board was sharp and precise, forming elegant strokes of letters that contrasted starkly with his cold, masked presence.

Runes & Symbols

"This will be your first lesson."

A few students exchanged puzzled glances, but no one dared interrupt.

"Unlike magic that requires affinity or innate talent, unlike swordsmanship that relies on physical mastery, runes and symbols are knowledge," he continued. "They do not discriminate between warriors, mages, or alchemists. They are a system—one that anyone, with sufficient understanding, can use."

Yuna blinked. Huh. That was… actually kind of interesting.

Professor Veyne stepped aside, revealing the board where he had drawn a series of simple rune structures—geometric shapes, intricate spirals, and lines intersecting at precise angles.

"Runes are the foundation of countless disciplines," He continued. "They enhance weapons, reinforce armor, weave enchantments, strengthen spells. They are used in barriers, contracts, even in the very fabric of this academy's walls."

Yuna tapped her fingers against her desk. So this wasn't just a subject exclusive to magic users—it was something universally applicable. That meant she wouldn't be at a disadvantage compared to those with stronger abilities, right?

Right?

However, before she could entertain the thought further, Professor Veyne's voice cut through again.

"But understanding runes is not as simple as carving a symbol and expecting miracles."

Oh. Well. There went that hope. She was not the hardworking type you know?

He turned his masked face toward the class. "A misplaced stroke could turn an enhancement rune into a curse. A misaligned symbol could render an entire formation useless. Runes require precision, intention, and an understanding of how they interact with the world."

He let those words settle before picking up the chalk once more, drawing a basic activation rune—a small, triangular symbol with a curved tail.

"This is the most fundamental rune," he said. "It serves as an activator. It can be used to trigger other runes, to channel energy, or to serve as the basis for larger inscriptions. A single mistake, however—" he struck a line through the symbol, altering its form slightly, "—can destabilize the entire sequence."

Celeste whispered dramatically. "And then we all explode."

Yuna sighed. "That's not what he said."

"Yet."

A stack of parchment and engraving tools suddenly appeared on their desks, placed there by unseen hands.

"Now—begin."

Yuna exhaled, gripping the engraving tool between her fingers. 'Alright, this is it. The grand, almighty world of runes and symbols.' The revered ancient art that transcended magical affinities, the great equalizer of warriors, mages, and scholars alike. The—

Wait. Wasn't this basically just magical calligraphy?

She narrowed her eyes at the paper. This was supposed to be her moment. Her 'transmigrator advantage' moment! Shouldn't she have some kind of inexplicable natural talent for this? Maybe she'd instinctively draw a rune so perfect that even the professor would raise an impressed brow beneath that creepy mask.

No wait….

…She jinxed it, didn't she?

With a sigh, Yuna pressed the engraving tool down and carefully traced the shape. Triangle—done. Curved tail—

Yuna exhaled sharply, gripping the engraving tool like it had personally wronged her. She squinted at the rune Professor Veyne had drawn on the board, then back at the blank parchment in front of her. The pristine emptiness of it mocked her.

Alright. It couldn't be that hard. Just a triangle with a curved tail. Simple, right? People had been doing this for centuries. Surely, with all the fantasy knowledge she had stored in her brain from her previous life, she would have some natural advantage. That was how it worked, wasn't it? A mysterious new world, a prestigious academy, and boom—overpowered protagonist energy? Where was her cheat skill? Her innate genius? At the very least, she expected a tutorial window to pop up.

Instead, she had… absolutely nothing. Not even the faintest glimmer of hidden talent.

Betrayal.

She pressed the engraving tool down and carefully traced the shape. Triangle—done. Curved tail—well… she tried. But as her hand wobbled slightly, the end result resembled a particularly sad shrimp.

Celeste, her ever-enthusiastic desk neighbor, peeked over and immediately snorted. "Wow. Is that supposed to channel energy or summon disappointment?"

Yuna scowled, flipping her parchment over like that would erase her failure from existence. "It's abstract," she deadpanned. "You wouldn't understand."

Celeste grinned, completely unbothered. "Oh no, I understand perfectly. It's the universal symbol for 'help, I have no talent.'"

Before Yuna could retaliate with a well-placed elbow nudge, Professor Veyne's voice cut through their exchange. "Precision is key. A single incorrect stroke can render a rune useless or, in some cases, catastrophically volatile."

No pressure or anything.

Yuna let out a slow breath and tried again, gripping the engraving tool with renewed determination. Triangle—done. Curved tail—

Her hand twitched at the last second. The result was still wobbly, but at least it didn't look like an aquatic creature this time.

A faint glow flickered across the surface.

Yuna's eyes widened. Did she actually—

The rune fizzled out.

"…Never mind."

She slumped forward, forehead hitting the desk with a light thud. What was this? Where was the epic moment of discovery? The satisfying click of understanding? The hidden memories of some past rune master awakening in her brain?

Nowhere, that's where.

Celeste patted her back with all the sympathy of someone who was clearly enjoying her suffering. "Don't worry, Yuna. Everyone has their strengths. Yours just… isn't this."

"Fantastic," Yuna muttered into the desk. "My legacy begins as the first student to fail 'drawing shapes' class."

Celeste leaned in conspiratorially. "Look on the bright side. At least yours didn't catch fire like his."

Yuna lifted her head just in time to witness a boy two rows ahead frantically waving his parchment in the air, smoke curling from the edges. Professor Veyne, unbothered, merely handed him another parchment without a word. The boy accepted it with the air of someone already reevaluating all his life choices.

Okay. Maybe she wasn't doing that badly.

For now.

With a sigh, Yuna rolled up her sleeves and picked up the engraving tool again. Third time's the charm. Hopefully.