Lament for My First Life

The Boy Named Eryndor

The courtyard of the Royal Academy buzzed with chatter and laughter as the morning lessons came to an end. The bell chimed softly, signaling the start of break time. Children spilled out into the wide marble halls and the open gardens beyond, their voices echoing like songbirds in spring.

Xylenne, however, sat quietly at her desk, hands folded neatly, trying to gather herself. Her first day had gone surprisingly well, but her mind still swirled from everything she'd learned, and from the presence of her new teacher, whose resemblance to her still haunted her thoughts.

As she was organizing her notes, a shadow fell across her desk. "Hello!" a cheerful voice said. Xylenne looked up. Before her stood a small boy with perfectly combed brown hair and light amber eyes that seemed to sparkle with confidence. He gave a polite little bow, one hand over his chest.

"My name is Eryndor Valthis, of the House of Valthis," he said with a practiced noble tone. Xylenne blinked, startled by his sudden introduction. She scrambled to her feet and bowed awkwardly, her chair nearly tipping behind her. "I-I am Xylenne Winters! H-house of W-winters!" she stammered, cheeks burning.

Eryndor straightened, smiling kindly. "It's okay! Don't be so shy. I'm a really nice person!" He fidgeted for a moment, glancing away. His voice softened as he mumbled, "Also... I-I really like your hair." Xylenne's heart skipped. Her white hair? Complimented?

She blinked several times in disbelief, unsure how to respond. "I-is white hair... a g-good thing?" she asked cautiously, her voice barely above a whisper.

Eryndor nodded quickly, his face lighting up. "Of course! It's super rare! Even the seniors talk about it! They say people with white hair are blessed by the gods." He leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "And between you and me... a lot of the older girls are secretly crushing on our professor. I heard he gets confession letters in his desk every week!" Xylenne's eyes widened. "He—he what?" Eryndor giggled. "It's true! He's the most admired teacher in the academy. My sister said he was the most gifted mage when he was a student here."

Before Xylenne could respond, a quiet voice interrupted from behind them. "May I review your worksheet, Lady Xylenne?"

Her heart stopped. That voice. She turned slowly. Standing behind her was the professor, his white robes flowing softly, his pale hair catching the light like threads of silver silk. His calm blue eyes met hers, unreadable but gentle. "O-oh, he's here..." Xylenne mumbled nervously, fumbling with her papers. She quickly handed him her worksheet with trembling hands.

He took it and began to read through the answers. For a long moment, the only sound was the rustle of parchment and the faint hum of students chatting nearby. Then he finally spoke, his tone calm and measured. "Full marks," he said simply. "And it's your first day, isn't it? Xylenne... Winters?"

Y-yes sir," she replied quickly, sitting up straighter. "Xylenne Winters."

He studied her for a moment, her hair, her face, her nervous blue eyes that mirrored his own. There was a flicker of something in his expression, something almost curious. "It seems," he said softly, "that we've discovered another mage among us." Xylenne froze. "O-oh n-no! I'm not a mage at all!" She waved her hands frantically.

He tilted his head slightly. "Hm? That's strange." "Y-yeah... sorry to disappoint," Xylenne said, lowering her gaze, cheeks pink.

"You passed the senior-level entrance exam," the professor continued, almost to himself. "So I wonder... why did they place you in this class?"

"M-maybe because of my age..." she said quickly. "M-maybe..." The professor regarded her in silence for a moment longer, then nodded once and handed the worksheet back to her. "Very well," he said, turning away with quiet grace. "Keep up the good work."

He moved to another student's desk, robes swaying lightly behind him as he walked. Xylenne exhaled shakily, clutching her worksheet to her chest. Her heart was still pounding from the encounter.

Beside her, Eryndor leaned in curiously. "Why are you stammering so much?"

"I-I've just never seen someone who looks like me before," she said honestly. "I'm... honestly baffled."

Eryndor smiled, his brown eyes warm and friendly. "Makes sense. Since white hair is rare, you probably felt alone before, huh?"

Xylenne nodded slightly. "Yeah... something like that."

"Well," he said brightly, "you're not alone anymore! You've got me, and the professor, I guess." Xylenne blinked, surprised by his easy kindness. Then, despite herself, she smiled. "Thanks, Eryndor." He grinned back. "Anytime, Lady Winter."

The bell rang softly, calling the students back to class. As Xylenne turned the pages of her book again, she caught one last glimpse of the professor at the front of the room, calm, composed, and impossibly beautiful. Her heart fluttered again before she forced herself to focus. Get a grip, Xylenne, she scolded herself silently. You're here to learn, not to swoon.