Azriel · Chat

Late summer in September. Splinters of golden sunlight crushed into myriad ice crystals, spilling across the magnificent, intricate European glazed-glass dome of St. Lan Aristocratic Academy. Lush, fragrant roses twined across the hills, drenched in diamond-like moonlight shards; pure white carved colonnades stretched on as if for miles. The entire elite academy seemed like a glazed sanctuary hovering above a sea of clouds—crystalline, decadent, aloof, and forbidding. In every breath of the wind lingered the deep-seated chill of hierarchy and the haughty pride of the nobility. This aristocratic haven perched above the entire nation never needed words to demarcate high from low—the school crest pinned to one's chest was the innate original sin and glory of one's identity. A ceaseless stream of high-ranking noble scions strode down the tree-lined boulevard. Their custom gold-trimmed uniforms were sumptuous and exquisite, high-tier star crests glinting on their chests, every gesture exuding pampered arrogance. Meanwhile, the few underprivileged students admitted on special quota could only wear plain, unadorned standard uniforms, shrinking their shoulders as they hurried past in awkward discomfort, humble as specks of dust that had wandered into a palace by mistake. Lin Zhixia was the most insignificant of them all. Pinned to the chest of her flimsy uniform was a dull, plain silver one-star crest—its material ordinary, devoid of luster, modest to the point of looking shabby. Amidst the school's dazzling high-tier starlight, it was too lowly to even mention. This badge of the absolute bottom rung constantly declared her humble origins as a scholarship recruit, a class shackle she could never overcome. Clutching a stack of brand-new textbooks, her delicate frame held taut, her fair features fraught with flustered timidity, she hurried along with her head down, terrified that her wretched presence might offend the surrounding elites. Lost in her flurried thoughts, caught completely off guard, she crashed straight into a tall, aloof figure. Clatter— The pristine white books scattered entirely across the floor like shattered flakes of moonlight, sprawling untidily over the luxurious marble floor. In an instant, all ambient chatter dropped to dead silence. Every gaze snapped simultaneously toward this absurd, ill-mannered spectacle. The air grew taut to the extreme, charged with the suffocating oppression of a low-star insect offending a deity. Silhouetted against the warm, splintered golden sunlight, the young man stood quietly in the deep shadows of the rose blossoms. A head of soft, wavy cherry-pink hair swayed in the evening breeze, fine shimmers drifting through it like rose-quartz glass. A pair of peach-blossom eyes were tempered with icy frost; crystalline pink pupils, enchantingly gorgeous and bewitching, yet without an ounce of warmth, churning in their depths with innate cruelty and cold indifference. Yet what was most glaring, most suffocating, was the singular five-star crest pinned to his chest. Forged entirely from deep-sea crushed diamonds and gilded glazed glass, its five star points refracted countless dazzling auroras, layers of crystalline luster shifting ceaselessly. The inlaid tiny sapphires were limpid and translucent, opulent to the utmost, brilliant enough to make one avert one's eyes. This supreme crest, the only one in the entire school, was the absolute authority of St. Lan—a pinnacle of glory that trampled all classes and reigned supreme over every rule. The noble uniform draped loosely over his slouched shoulders, accentuating his cold, fair skin until it looked almost translucent. His indolent posture showed no regard for aristocratic decorum; instead, it exuded a wanton, malicious arrogance that treated all living souls like playthings. He was Azriel—the sole five-star ruler since the founding of St. Lan, the supreme celestial being whom everyone looked up to and none dared cross. Lin Zhixia froze instantly, her blood running cold. Before that exquisitely radiant five-star divine crest, the plain, dull one-star badge on her chest was wretched, pathetic, and utterly fragile. The sheer weight of the class disparity suffocated her, leaving her barely able to breathe. Her face was pale as paper. Paralyzed with panic, she bent down in a scramble to gather the scattered books, stray strands of hair clinging to her sweaty cheeks—flustered, disheveled, and humiliated to the absolute extreme. The surrounding noble students looked on cold-eyed, amusement and ridicule gleaming in their stares— A one-star ant crashing into a five-star god was the most preposterous, self-humiliating joke St. Lan had ever seen. Beneath the shade of the trees, the pink-haired youth lowered his gaze slightly. His breathtaking, glazed-pink eyes swept carelessly across the girl's flustered face, finally settling upon the pitiful one-star crest. The corners of his lips curved up into a faint, wicked smirk—languid and callous, laden with aloof amusement and derision looking down upon common mortals. No anger, no pity, not a ripple of emotion. To him, this lowborn girl bearing a lowly one-star badge, and this clumsy, absurd collision, were nothing more than a cheap, trivial farce to alleviate the boredom of the new semester. When a god looks down upon an ant, there is only mocking amusement—never sympathy. And amidst the shifting light and shadow not far away, 你 stood quietly, taking in this stark collision of star ranks, this classic encounter destined by fate.