Capítulo 12: Main Cast of [The Fallen Prince] [2]

Lucas Whiteford ascended the stairs with a casual arrogance that drew every eye to him. Girls' gazes followed him with admiration, while boys couldn't help but feel envious.

Cattleya Starlight walked beside him, gracefully, with a radiant smile as if she were basking in the glow of his presence. Following closely behind were Lucas' three friends—more like henchmen, loyal and always trailing after him.

The group moved to the highest rows of the lecture hall, where Lucas took his seat in the center of the back row, surveying the room below like a king on his throne. His posture, the slight smirk on his face—it was clear he believed he owned the place. Cattleya settled in the seat next to him.

Lucas' friends positioned themselves in the row just below.

Aaron leaned closer to Ivan. "As long as we stay out of their way, we should be able to avoid any unnecessary attention. Unless, of course, you want something from him?"

Ivan didn't bother to respond. It wasn't that he was afraid of attracting trouble or wanted to hide in the shadows. No, the thought of staying unnoticed gnawed at his self-respect and pride, especially given the memories of the eight people whose lives and egos now influenced him. None of the eight were the type shrinking back felt cowardly. However, at the moment, Lucas and his entourage were irrelevant to him.

"Sir, you might want to keep an eye on this one…" Aaron spoke up, his eyes at the entrance.

A young woman entered the hall, her presence attracting as much attention as Theresa or Cattleya, though in a different way. She was stunning, with auburn-brown hair tied neatly behind her, and hazel eyes that shimmered with blue flecks, giving them a unique and captivating hue.

"She's Ludivine Richmont," Aaron explained. "Her father runs the Richmont Corporation. They're known for producing the finest high-tech vehicles in the industry—best brand, top quality. She's another one to watch."

Unlike the others, Ludivine didn't surround herself with an entourage or bask in the attention. Though students admired her from afar, no one seemed to approach her directly. She walked with quiet confidence yet there was a certain air of isolation about her. No friends flocked to her side, no one jostled for her attention. She seemed distant, yet more approachable than the rest.

By pure coincidence—or perhaps something more—Ludivine chose a seat directly behind Ivan and Aaron.

'With her, the main cast among the First Years is finally assembled.'

Travis, Theresa, Erion, Lucas, Cattleya, and now Ludivine.

Each one played a significant role in the story he had in, and though their paths were still full of conflicts, they would eventually come together. He had read enough of the novel to know that despite their differences, alliances would form, and their futures would intertwine.

What unsettled Ivan the most, however, was knowing that these very six were destined to play a role in his eventual death. In the last chapters he'd read they had already begun to work together. While Travis would eventually gather several love interests, the group's unity would somehow endure, even amid personal problems.

The only thing that was troubling Ivan was he didn't know how he was supposed to die but he knew the people who would take part in his death. It was thanks to the prologue of the novel which would literally foreshadow the last battle against Ivan and in there could be seen the main characters and the other important ones against Ivan.

Ivan could still remember the author's words about his fate.

Ivan's ending wouldn't be nice to watch.

'I knew it. I knew Zenon was suspicious.'

Ivan's fists clenched tightly as a surge of disgust coursed through him. The very idea that someone had crafted his life, written it into existence, filled him with a deep disgust. If he was truly a character born from that author's imagination, then the blame for all the torment he had endured lay squarely with him. The deaths, the endless cycles of pain—each of his lives, their struggles, had been nothing more than entertainment, carefully orchestrated for the amusement of readers.

But there was something even more troubling gnawing at him. If this author had written him into existence, was he also responsible for his transmigration into this world?

His memories of Earth, unlike those of his past lives, were still fresh. He could clearly picture his family, his friends, the woman he had loved. They were probably searching for him, consumed with worry, fearing the worst. The thought of them grieving were deeply irritating him, but he quickly pushed those emotions aside.

He had his priorities. In this world, his first and foremost goal was his own survival and success. Only after securing his future here would he address the matters of his other lives.

Suddenly, the chatter in the room died down, the noise dwindling to a hush. All eyes turned toward the entrance as a young woman with brown hair tied in ponytail stepped into the lecture hall. She was dressed in the standard attire of the Academy's teachers, though her youthful face and calm demeanor set her apart from the more seasoned instructors.

"Glad to meet you, fresh students. I am Eline Castell, and I will be your main teacher for this year's promotion," she said in a composed tone.

The room fell into an attentive silence, and even the most talkative students quieted down, their focus shifting to the teacher as she prepared to start the class.

"Before we begin, I'll take attendance," Eline continued, pulling out a list. "Erion Mistral."

Erion raised his hand acknowledging his place as the top-ranked student.

Ivan didn't need to pay much attention to the roll call. He already knew how it would go—Eline was calling the students according to their rank.

"Second: Cattleya Starlight."

Cattleya raised her hand with a proud smile.

"Third: Travis Rivers."

Travis gave a short nod.

"Fourth: Lucas Whiteford."

Lucas raised his hand but his cold gaze was resting on Travis who was ranked above him.

"Fifth: Ludivine Richmont."

Ludivine raised her hand with a simple smile.

"Sixth: Theresa Mistral."

"Yes!" Theresa, sitting beside Travis, gave a more cheerful answer.

And so the list went on, rank after rank. Ivan only half-listened, his thoughts elsewhere, until finally, a familiar name broke through his distraction.

"Twelfth: Aaron Cromwell."

Aaron raised his hand without showing much expression.

Aaron was stronger than what he appeared and he was quite popular, Ivan noted feeling the girls's gazes shooting past him toward his 'cousin' in name.

"Seventy-seventh: Leon Cromwell."

Ivan raised his hand. He had expected this rank—it had been arranged beforehand, courtesy of Aaron's father. Ivan hadn't taken any of the Academy's entrance exams; all his scores were fabricated, placing him neatly at 77th. A low enough rank to avoid suspicion, but not so low that he would stand out as incompetent among the Elites.

'It should be enough.'

Ivan received though a few curious glances since he bore the same last name as Aaron who was ranked twelfth but that was all.

comentário 6 comentário

Votar

ENVIAR PRESENTE

Load failed, please RETRY