She Is Not a Witch

Emenas, Central School Building Plaza.

In the early morning, two long teaching halls flanked the plaza, forming a shape reminiscent of the character ‘同’ when combined with the central section. The term “teaching halls” was used instead of “buildings” because both their exterior and interior differed greatly from the school buildings in Loranhil’s memory.

Broad steps led up to a row of tall, uniform columns. Inside was a cathedral-like high dome and spacious corridors and halls, with enormous classrooms on both sides.

The teaching halls were constructed from frost-gray rock, a dense material with high strength and some supernatural resistance. This made it less prone to damage, allowing it to withstand the effects of students’ magical power without constant risk of collapse. The inner walls had also been inscribed with anti-magic patterns during construction years ago, further increasing their durability.

The usually quiet classrooms were particularly lively today, with many new students following signposts, searching for their assigned rooms.

“Loosen it a bit.”

“Haha, isn’t this fine?”

“Why are they all white? I want to make mine bright red.”

“Should we add a lion’s mane too?”

“Yeah, gold and red would be so cool.”

In a large lecture hall, sunlight streamed through five-meter-high windows, illuminating groups of excited young people. Most wore white cloaks, while some were still adjusting theirs.

As they were all new students, the school couldn’t provide tailored uniforms for everyone in half a day. So first-year students were given uniform white cloaks with gray collars. This not only made everyone look consistent and aesthetically pleasing but also didn’t interfere with personal clothing preferences. The cloaks were also available in several sizes to accommodate various body types.

Loranhil was holding her newly issued cloak, preparing to put it on.

The cloak wasn’t thin. Its outer side was white with a satin-like sheen, smooth to the touch. The inner lining was light gray and softer, with a slightly fuzzy texture. The overall quality was excellent; in Loranhil’s assessment, it was likely a silver-grade artifact.

As mentioned before, silver-grade fabric items were often rarer and more precious. This cloak was not only attractive but also practical for blocking wind and keeping warm. It could serve as a raincoat, a blanket for sleeping outdoors, and even a makeshift bag for carrying items.

Even on the battlefield, the cloak could protect against weaker projectiles, preventing arrowheads from directly piercing flesh.

In terms of practicality, the cloak had many uses, which explained why Emenas used it as a substitute for new student uniforms. The actual fitted Emenas uniforms would only be tailored after students advanced to one of the four major colleges in their second year. (As a side note, Emenas didn’t charge tuition fees.)

“Loran, can you check if it’s crooked?” Leticia asked after putting hers on, turning around.

“Sure.”

“Is it done, Nya?” Alena asked her roommate who was helping her adjust from behind.

“Yes, it’s fine now,” Nya replied, lifting her head to indicate she had finished.

“Thank you, Nya.”

As the girls helped each other dress, the classroom filled up with more and more people. New students kept coming in, registering at the door, and receiving suitable cloaks. Young men and women gathered, introducing themselves, chattering away, and quickly becoming familiar with each other.

The school’s new students came from a wide range of backgrounds. There were beast-folk with animal ears and horns, as well as Easterners in long-sleeved robes. Although everyone spoke the common language, there were noticeable differences in regional accents, creating a diverse mix of northern and southern styles.

“Who’s that girl over there? She’s so pretty.”

“You’ve said that about a dozen times today. I think you’ve been single for too long; you find everyone attractive,” his roommate replied, adjusting his clothes without looking up.

“But she’s really beautiful. Golden hair like silk threads, skin as white as seashells. She’s wonderful, ah-“

“What’s wrong now? Why did you suddenly stop?” The boy looked up after fixing his buttons to see what had happened.

In the soft morning light, a black-haired girl turned sideways, tying a ribbon for her blonde friend. Her fingers, white as jade, deftly twisted the string into a butterfly knot. In the sparse sunlight, one could faintly see the fine hair on her face, her clear and tranquil eyes, and her focused, serious expression. Like a timeless masterpiece, the scene etched itself deeply into the minds of those around.

“I think you’re right this time.”

Some boys and girls in the class began to steal glances at the black-haired girl. Leticia was actually quite attractive too, a golden-haired young lady from a noble family. But people tended to prefer the exotic, and that rare Eastern beauty was indeed uncommon.

“Is she in our class too?”

“Of course, she’s in our classroom, isn’t she?”

“I think I’m in love. What should I do?”

“Come on, you’re always like this. You really need to control yourself.”

“Are you saying you’re not moved?”

“Well…”

“Rock, look at that girl by the window.”

“Mm, I see her,” a boy with wine-red short hair looked up briefly, then lowered his head to continue filling out his registration form.

“Aren’t you interested, Rock?” his roommate asked.

“What’s the point of being interested? She’s clearly not from our world,” Rock continued writing.

“I suppose that’s just like you,” his roommate chuckled.

After the new students were properly dressed, they were guided by their homeroom teachers to stand in designated areas on the plaza according to their classes, then waited quietly.

The white cloaks hung neatly, forming square-like, orderly formations. Whether viewed straight on or diagonally, they formed straight lines. The morning sun wasn’t too harsh, and the sky was a pure, azure blue without a trace of clouds. As the new students assembled and stood in place, a prelude of music began to play.

On both sides of the high white podium were two rows of musicians, including drummers, violinists, pianists, and trumpet players. Judging by their appearances, they were likely senior students from the school. The ensemble wasn’t too large or too small, with about 100 people on each side.

As the final notes of the prelude faded, a man in a gray robe ascended the podium. His hair was graying, but he still looked quite vigorous, appearing to be in his fifties. He was the Dean of the Central School Building.

“Welcome to Emenas!” His powerful voice resonated across the entire plaza.

“Whether you come from the distant worlds south of the Southern Sea, or the rarely traversed lands north of the North, whether you hail from the Dragon Realms of the East or the Wind-Swept Cities of the West. Here, I ask you to set aside your past prejudices and view each classmate you meet with equality and respect.”

“This world has nurtured countless races and civilizations. Life grows freely and wildly, forming unique styles and customs through different environments and experiences.”

“Regardless of who we are or which race we belong to, we all hope for a better and happier life.”

“So I hope everyone can base their understanding and perception of things different from themselves on this common ground, trying to view their surroundings with an objective and fair attitude.”

“I also hope that you can see in each other the millions of different forms of beauty that exist in this world. Even with flaws, even with room for change, I hope you can still come to love this imperfect world, and become proud guardians of civilization, protectors of order and culture. Together, let us safeguard this hard-won world.”

“This was also the ideal and wish of the first generation of sages when they founded Emenas.”

“In the face of the terrifying Chaos Calamity, all races and civilizations of the world stood together for the first time, jointly composing a great epic. We hope that through your hands, this epic will continue to be written.”

“Although we are all ordinary individuals, I still believe that even ordinary people can do extraordinary things, and perhaps even achieve heroic feats in the end.”

“Now, you have entered Emenas, and the path of glory has opened before you.”

“Are you ready?”

“Step onto this heroic path!”

As the Dean’s words faded, soothing music rose from both sides, and a grand chorus resounded across the plaza.

The lyrics weren’t complex, and the melody was simple and repetitive. But even years later, hearing it again would still stir one’s emotions. That initial dream, that purest flower, would continue to bloom deep in one’s heart.