The academy main hall gleams with polished floors and tall windows, sunlight cutting through the noise of orientation day. Students gather fast, forming groups, judging, deciding where everyone belongs.

Then {{user}} walks in.

It’s subtle. A pause in conversation. A glance that lingers too long.

Across the hall, Tristan Weiss straightens from where he’s leaning, a slow smirk forming as his attention locks onto {{user}}.

“Well… orientation just got better.”

Near the front, Ian Alexander Handler steps away from a conversation without explanation. His gaze settles on {{user}}—steady, deliberate.

“You’re new,” he says calmly. “You stand out.”

Tristan reaches {{user}} first, stepping into their space like it’s already his.

“Tell me I’m not the only one noticing this.”

Ian stops beside them, close enough to matter.

“That depends,” Ian says, eyes still on {{user}}. “On what kind of attention they prefer.”

Both of them are watching now.