The Boy Without Words

12:30 PM – Veyrith Academy, Special Breeder Classroom

Jimmy returned to school at exactly the right time. The hallway was calm, sunbeams slanting through narrow windows, and the buzz of idle students faint in the distance. He climbed the stairs slowly, head tilted down, footsteps silent as ever. When he turned the final corner to his destination — Room A-17 — the door stood half-open, the plaque faintly glowing under the Nexus seal.

He stepped inside.

Only a handful of students were scattered in the angular, amphitheatre-style classroom. Designed for practical demonstrations, the room sloped downward toward a central stage and instructor's podium. Jimmy checked the wall clock — 12:45 PM. Still 15 minutes early.

He walked toward the back row and took the last seat, unbothered by the empty stares from others. As usual, some whispered at the sight of his eyepatch and blank expression.

:: DING! ::

A soft chime rang from the classroom's automated clock system. At exactly 1:00 PM, the temperature dropped slightly — a warning signal to settle down.

And then—

She entered.

No heels clicked. No dramatic announcement.

But the moment she walked in, silence draped the classroom like velvet.

In strode Ilaria Rayne, the famous Class S caretaker instructor. Her figure was poised, her presence electric, and her fashion sense rebellious enough to spark gossip for a week. Slim black gloves, a violet coat open just enough to hint at the sleeveless corset top beneath, and heels that tapped with commanding rhythm. Her silver-blonde hair blew gently behind her as she flicked a hand through it with casual defiance.

Some students almost whistled—but their breath caught in their throats the moment she opened her mouth.

"Before we even start..." she said in a melodic yet cutting voice, "I assume you all brought what I asked for."

She paused, scanning the room.

"Caretaker license. Nexus-verified. No excuses. If you're here to play whisp doctor without a license, I suggest you crawl back to whichever hole you failed from"

Jimmy glanced at his phone, thankful it had buzzed him just in time with the reminder. He had already arranged with Nun, the Nexus assistant, to re-verify and submit the documentation through his hometown channel. A good thing too.

Ilaria continued:

"Let's see… 29 students. Out of 80 registered. Pathetic. If you all can't follow basic instructions, don't even dream of touching an Advanced-tier Whisp."

Her boots made a soft sound as she glided down the center aisle, slow and deliberate. She stopped beside a cocky-looking boy slouched in the third row.

"You," she said.

He straightened up, trying not to blush. "Y-Yes, miss."

"Don't 'yes' me," she said, lifting one gloved finger and lightly tapping under his chin. "Show me what you've got."

She leaned close. "Your card, darling."

He fumbled and handed it over.

She glanced at it. Her smirk vanished.

"A submission form?" Her tone turned to razors. "You came here with a request slip?"

He started to mumble excuses. "It's— I mean—"

"Out." She pointed toward the door without breaking eye contact. "Next time you want to waste a professional's time, try flirting with the receptionist."

She turned to the class, voice louder. "Anyone else faking credentials?"

A nervous rustle followed. Nearly twenty students rose, embarrassed, and walked out. One brave girl called back, "If I get mine in 15 minutes, can I come back?"

Ilaria smiled sweetly. "Tick tock, sweetheart. You're already late."

Now, only nine students remained.

"Lovely," she said. "At least some of you weren't completely brain-dead."

She gestured at the front row. "Come. Sit together. I want to see what I'm working with."

The group arranged themselves across two benches — four on the first, four on the second, and Jimmy still alone on the end.

She began her review like a lioness inspecting cubs.

"F rank… accepted."

"E… borderline. Stay sharp."

Another card, "E. Pass."

Then—

"F. Try harder."

"D." She paused, tilted her head with a faint smirk, and leaned close to the boy's ear. Her voice softened dangerously.

"Well done, very good boy~"

His face turned crimson. The others burned with jealousy as she smiled mischievously.

More cards followed:

"E."

"F."

"F…"

Finally, she arrived at Jimmy.

She stopped.

Eyepatch. Black coat. That stillness. That unsettling silence.

Her brow rose ever so slightly.

"Well then," she said. "Did you get it?"

.........................

Jimmy moved with quiet confidence. With a subtle flick of his wrist, he drew out a sleek blue card from his coat and handed it over. The instructor, Ilaria Rayne—curved in all the right places and dressed to kill in a fitted suit with a slit skirt—arched a brow. Her eyes flicked from the card to Jimmy, lingering a moment too long. Then she tapped on her tablet, checking the ID.

Her lips parted in surprise. "You… You're a dark horse here." Her voice dripped with a hint of delight, as if she'd just discovered her favourite wine in a plastic cup. Then, turning to the rest of the stunned class, she smirked. "Why don't you all clap for our quiet prodigy? A young B-level caretaker master. Hm?"

Scattered applause broke out. Some said

"Did you see the way Miss Rayne looked at him? I'd volunteer for detention if he's there."

"I'd let her confiscate me."

"I'd enroll in any course if she promised one-on-one tutoring."

"She bends over the desk one more time and I'm failing on purpose."

...............................

Girl 1 (rolling her eyes):"Listen to them drool. One skirt slit and they forget the class even has a board."

Girl 2 (grinning):"Seriously. Miss Rayne could assign homework in braille and they'd still say yes, ma'am."

Girl 1 (smirking):"They're all simping. Meanwhile, he's the only one she actually flirted with."

Girl 2:"Ugh. I'd rather chase the boy with a brain than follow these hormone zombies."

...................................

Boy 1 (scoffing):"Look at them—falling over themselves for a guy who doesn't even talk."

Boy 2:"They just want attention. Doesn't matter if it's from a statue or a caretaker."

"Watch—he'll ignore them too. Just like he ignored everyone else."

Boy 3 (leaning back, arms crossed):"Kinda sad though… chasing someone who's not even looking at them."

........................................................

Murmur stopped by teacher's slam on table. She said 'don't ruin my fun. Kids'

Most were staring at him—some whispering, some eyeing him like he was suddenly made of gold.

Rayne sauntered toward the front of the room, heels clicking like punctuation marks. "Too cute," she said playfully, eyes still on him. "Tell me, want to join my advanced class? I can… make it worth your while."

Jimmy tilted his head and signed coolly, I'll think about it. When I have time.

"Oh, cheeky too," she laughed, then faced the board. "Alright class—focus here, not on me. Or else…" Her tone dropped into something mock-dangerous, teasing. "No washroom breaks for the next one hour and fifteen minutes. Timer starts now."

The next 75 minutes were a torment for some—and a masterclass for the rest.

Rayne walked the aisles, hips swaying, as she spoke with commanding ease. "Whisps are living extensions of your soul," she said. "And if you treat them right… they'll do anything for you."

A few boys fidgeted, clearly struggling more with her voice than the lesson. She smirked, fully aware.

"Next class will be… one day after yesterday," she said cryptically, turning back to the board with a wicked smile. "And now… you're finally allowed to visit the washroom."

All six boys bolted out like prisoners set free. Jimmy, calm as ever, simply closed his notebook, gathered his books, and stood.

Two girls approached, eyes wide. "You're really a dark horse," one of them said, almost breathless. "You even have an Intermediate Whisp and a B-level license?"

The teacher chimed in with a mock pout, "Intermediate pet? What a hardworking boy. But please, no hand work on me—this class is rated academic," she winked.

Students burst out laughing.

She snapped her fingers. "Class dismissed. See you next session, you little monsters."

The same two girls leaned closer. "Can we have your number?"

Jimmy smirked. Sorry, he signed, it's not for sale.

Rayne caught that exchange and tossed her voice toward the door. "Take care, girls. Looks like your hearts just got broken."

When they turned to say something else—Jimmy had already vanished.

...........................

By 3:30 PM, the sun was sharp but mellow as Jimmy cycled through the narrow alleys, his coat flaring behind him. He reached his quiet home, kicked down the stand, and entered in silence. In a swift motion, he activated Bruno's console and summoned his two Whisps—Luna, glowing faintly, and Peeko, buzzing with playful energy.

The room filled with a soft pulse of light and life.

And just like that, the rest of his day began.