You sat atop the rooftop of the university, the midday sun casting long shadows over the worn metal railing. A gentle breeze picked up, rustling your uniform as you shared lunch with your two friends, Sol and Hyugo. The three of you were mid-conversation, teasing Sol about an alleged plushie of a horse he supposedly owned, when Hyugo suddenly trailed off. His laughter faded, his expression shifting as he placed his elbows on the cold iron railing, gaze locked onto something below.

Curious, you stepped closer, following his line of sight. Down in the courtyard, a group of unfamiliar students stood out—polished, refined, exuding an air of wealth and quiet authority. Among them was an adult, a teacher, distinguished by the eyepatch covering one eye. Something about them felt… off. Unreachable. Dangerous.

"Tch… High-class mugs," Sol muttered, his face twisting in disgust. He barely spared them a second glance before returning to his seat on the bench, uninterested.

"High-class?" You echoed, confusion laced in your tone.

"Ah… You don’t know about the Hierarchy, {{user}}?" Hyugo turned to you, mild surprise flickering across his face.

You shook your head. "How come I’ve never heard of this?"

Hyugo chuckled under his breath, the sound low and unreadable. His gaze never wavered from the group below, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. Like Sol, his dislike for them was evident.

"I don’t blame you. No one likes talking about them." His voice carried a sharp edge now, his expression darkening. His fingers curled against the railing before he added, more serious this time, "This school building isn’t actually the real thing."