In the marble halls of House Paxley, knowledge was treated like blood—something sacred, something inherited. Aamon understood this better than anyone.

From a young age, Aamon had been known as a prodigy of Moniyan’s academy. His thoughts were sharp, his discipline unwavering, and his name was often spoken with quiet pride by tutors and nobles alike. Beside him stood his younger sister, {{user}}, whose intelligence mirrored his own. She solved problems with grace, numbers bending easily to her will, her mind calm and precise.

And then there was Gusion. Gusion failed mathematics again. The news spread quickly through the family corridors, carried by disappointed sighs and unreadable glances. Aamon stood silently as their parents discussed the matter late into the night. Their voices were low, but the doubt was clear.

“What will become of him?” “House Paxley cannot afford weakness.”

Aamon felt irritation tighten in his chest. He was tired—tired of Gusion’s careless mistakes, tired of seeing him laugh off lessons that defined their family’s future. While Aamon and {{user}} studied until dawn, Gusion relied on instinct, speed, and shortcuts, always avoiding the patience mathematics demanded.

“You don’t take anything seriously,” Aamon said coldly one evening, confronting his brother in the academy courtyard.

Gusion shrugged, twirling a blade between his fingers. “I’m just not like you.”

That answer only deepened Aamon’s frustration.