He could hear the hushed whispers even before he reached the classroom.

Disgrace

Dangerous

Freak

Stay away from him.

Nothing he has never heard before.

The legend says there was a time, when all the wizards and necromancers were the same.

No necromancers.

No wizards.

Only warlords and normals. And they hated each other with passion.

Then times changed. Nobody knows what happened.

Now the normals belongs to every group and their population is dispersed among all the species but the people with mage entities inside; they are in wars.

Hunting, taunting and alienating each other.

What is the future of us, necromancers?

No, not us. There is no us.

He didn't belong with the necromancers either.

Not needing an eleganor for charging his abilities made him a freak among his villagers.

That makes him dangerous. He does not belong to his village.

He bears a womb. He does not belong in the army.

He is... was an army commander to the Night Army of Necromancers. He does not belong to the necromancers who are allies of the Wizard Emperor.

He does not belong anywhere, ever.

But he has stepped foot in the academy halls like a man on mission.

With his newly dyed hair that is twisted into a half bun and numerous tattoos that proclaimed him as a freak even among mages, Type is ready for the taming.

The royalties and lordships in the academy councils have once decided teaching necromancer kids among their sworn enemies would tame them.

Taming.

Exactly the word used in the official notification send to him and his father.

The Empress is the only one who is as offended as Type.

The bureaucrats are mean motherfuckers and Type is not yet ready to believe that Emperor and his beloved children are also unaware of the little 'term of endearment'.

Children!

Yes!

Type gulps his annoyance and irrational anger down his throat, fisting his palm that is not holding his books.

How stupid is he?!

Of course, it is too visible but Type is always so blind when it comes to... comes to...

Nothing.

The Royal Couple is too ecstatic to have him in the university and they have welcomed him by removing their masks.

Too risky; Type still thinks but... nothing has never been at too much risk than Type's heart when he has first seen the Emperor's face.

The resemblance of the Emperor to his second son, the Wolf, the Prince of Galoddhikeera... Thara Kirigun is so uncanny that Type's reaction has made the whole family laugh.

The Emperor is indeed only a slightly older version of the Wolf and surprisingly looks so young, once the mask is removed.

With the shaking of hands he has seen on the first day, Type has misjudged the Emperor's form. He maybe as old as Type's father but does not look that way, especially with a beautiful wife like the Empress beside him.

The General, the same man who has taken Type's educational orientation program, is the Crown Prince of Galoddhikeera.

And Thara... he... well he is the Second Prince.

Of course it all makes sense but Type is too stupid to see all this, until a bit too late. He wishes he had known it earlier.

Why?

Sigh!

Nothing.

"He is a thief. So, do not leave your things outside."

Somebody whispers to someone else as he passes by and Type swirls his tongue inside his mouth so he would not say anything mean on the first day of his school.

He does not want to prove his 'reputation' that fast.

Why is he in this place when he clearly knows no one really wants him here? And a person who persistently followed him like a puppy... well that does not matter anymore.

Nothing will ever happen. Type will make sure of that.

He does not need any friends and most certainly not a ... a...

An excited puppy!

Nothing will happen; ever!

He is going to keep his nose clean, focus only on studi...

"Hey! You must be Type. I am Techno. I am a Wizard. I do not look like that but I am. You are a necromancer. You do look like that. I have classes with you. So, Teacher Suppasit asked me to keep you company."

Type looks around where the sound is coming from until he looks down to a young boy who is only as tall to his stomach looking up at Type with large brown round eyes.

"... you need to submit your stones if you have any. Then to the library. Oh, you want some food? Pops made me pack extra. It is not that good but eatable. Come on. Let me hold those books for you."

Type glares at the boy who yanks on his books and smacks back to Type's stomach.

"Give." The boy demands.

"No." Type growls.

"Give. I will hold." The boy glares.

"No."

"Why not? I am your friend."

"Said who?!"

"Teacher Suppasit! Did you not hear a word I said? I am Techno. You are Type. We are friends."

It is too early in the morning for Type to deal with this kind of bullshit!

Type growls, takes a menacing step towards the little 'child' but moves to the side and walks off to the corridor that leads to his classroom... well that is what his map says.

And...

... and smacks right into a door that appears out of nowhere!

"Shiyaaa!!! What in the..." Type clutches his nose, trying to bite back the flow of colorful curses but failing miserably. "Fuck... fire in the cunt of Goddess Krar and booties of her armies!"

"Ew." Someone says conversationally next to Type and he notices it is the little kid from earlier.

"Do not repeat it." Type does not know why he bothered to say that as the kid rolls his eyes.

"I have better things to do. As in, watch you in pain. Go ahead. Do not listen to Techno and be stupid again."

Ugh! Who address themselves in their own names!

Too early for this shit.

"Sorry about my friend here. I am Champ." A taller guy stands next to Techno. "You cannot go in without student tags. You are new. So, we are here to help. You have to complete the screening and sign some papers that basically says you would not kill us in a hissy fit."

"No promises." Type glares at Techno who scowls at him before sticking his tongue out.

"Champ, I do not want to be friends with him anymore."

Champ sighs. "Well, he seems like he does not want to be friends with you either. Come on. We are late. Mr. Type can handle himself."

Techno pouts but follows his friend and disappears to the other side of the corridor.

Good.

Friends turn backstabbers real quick.

Type takes his sweet time to find the library and submit his Control Stones. The screening has hurt his skin a bit and the lady behind the desk judges him for his tattoos.

As if he has gotten them himself.

Lady, Type wakes up on some days and gets surprised to find another mark on his body!

But Type would not lie and say he does not like the black cross on the side of his left cheek bone. It is edgy and mysterious.

Type loves that.

"No visible tattoos and no dying hair." The librarian announces.

"You said no make-up in the school. So, either you let me cover my tattoos with my Control Stones which you have seized or you close your eyes. And about dying my hair? None of your business and the teachers do not teach my hair anyways."

"TEN MARKS OUT OF HOUSE-OWLS!"

Type rolls his eyes.

We talked about this Type, remember? He chastises himself.

Be respectful, be silent, be invisible. Do not get too much marks, do not get too little marks. Always be in the middle and for fuck sake, no back talks!

"Sorry, ma'am. That was uncalled for. I am nervous and without my Control Stones, I get my moods."

The librarian glares.

"We will tame you."

Type smiles. 'Good luck with that lady.'

He takes a deep sigh, gets his school thingies and walks into the classroom with an imposing teacher and giggly students.

"For a poor thief, he is hot."

Someone whispers as Type asks permission to the teacher to get inside.

"He can steal my virginity."

Type takes the first bench and desk which seemed to be purposefully left off.

Good.

No company.

"You will not be excused for joining the class late this trimester. It is your reason which I do not care." The teacher talks to him directly. "The graded test is day after tomorrow and you will attend it. Anything less than W is a fail and then I will not let to attend my term quiz. Without term quiz mark, you are a fail in the end term exam. Got that, Thawavit?"

"Thiwat." Type almost growls but controls his voice. "... Sir. Yes, I understand. Thank you."

"Good. Moving on, class. Why do not we use fire to test the presence of Vipo Fixyen - gaseous mixture of Fixar and Avyant? Anyone? Ka-Ak, you."

"Umm... it will not... uh... burn?"

"Useless! University is wasting money teaching you, worthless necromancers!" The teacher whispers the last part but since sitting in the first bench, Type hears it clearly.

His hand almost break the pen but... but...

This does not matter, Type.

Just learn something and get out of here.

"You, newcomer. Thaawit."

"Thiwat..." Type refuses to stand up but the teacher demands and he stands up reluctantly. "Vipo Fixyen is non-flammable but it supports fire. So... fire hazard?"

"Fire hazard is correct but the reason is unsatisfactory. Sit down. You, my dear boy... Kiri. Tell the answer, so the whole class can hear."

Type sits back as his classmates coo but freezes at the voice that answers the question.

Shiya!

Type turns around to watch the person who he refuses to meet after the incident of finding the Wolf as the Second Prince.

"Vipo-Fixyen is present where there is intense heat and where Fixar is present there are chances for the presence of another arltchemical - Piridiazon which is not only highly flammable but emits poisonous gas Uioxan upon combustion. So, using fire to test the Vipo-Fixyen in igmatic caves leads to death either by blaze or asphyxiation. Fire test can be done in labs though teachers do not allow it."

The teacher laughs; clearly impressed with the answer. "My dear boy, it can cause irritation on skin even if the labs are well ventilated."

Type is still glaring at Thara... what does the teacher calls him? Kiri, huh?

How many names this man has?

To the utter embarrassment and fury of Type, Tharn winks at him with a smirk before sitting down.

"I still do not understand, Kiri. Why are you taking this course again? I love to have you here; I am not blessed with many students who want to study. But you are the topper of Alchemy and cracked the course in second year itself, I believe. Why again?"

Tharn stands up again with reverence. "Alchemy is one of my favorite subjects, Teacher Menkahn. Then this time I am not here without reasons" Tharn's eyes meet with Type's and he smiles. "This time I have you..."

For a moment Type wonders if Thara is out of his freaking mind and talking about Type. Type's face flames and he turns around quickly.

"... you..." Tharn looks back at the teacher just in time. "... a veteran educator for the subject. I am tutoring sub-junior students as per the requirements for my advanced studies. So, better brush up the subject and learn something from a genius like you."

The teacher preens and mocks other 'stupid' students but Type's mind is haywire.

"Thiyiwaat..." The teacher calls and this time Type purposefully does not look up or respond. "THIYIWAAAT!"

The teacher screams and Type fakes innocence looking around. "Oh? Me? Sir, it is Thiwat. I apologize. Did not know you were calling for me."

Some familiar voice snorts from the back but Type ignores it.

"Kirigun takes alchemy classes for sub-junior students. If you need to pass tomorrow's test, I suggest you attend his class... only if he allows it. Additional 5 points for attendance. Fair warning; I do not let students take re-tests. Class dismissed."

Type blames himself for even considering attending this Uni.

Uggh!

Type drops his head to his elbows on the desk and whines remembering only one class has passed... of the whole program.

Shiya!

How many more?!

He is already so sick and tired!

Can he drop out?

Shiyaaa!

He cannot!

He has involved his dad to get the money and caution - agreement signature. He has fought the man; challenging he would come back with a degree.

He cannot run back to the man with tail tucked between his legs now!

Uggh!

Type whines some more and someone comments. "Can someone hear a kitty mewling?"

Type quickly takes his bag, glares at Thara Kirigun who has made the comment and rushes out of the class.

"Type Thiwat, wait up. About the class..." Type grumbles but stops and waits for Thara to reach him. The man takes his time bidding byes to his friends and makes Type wait.

Asshole!

"So... you up for the class?"

"How much for the session?" Type asks directly. He has to know if tuition is something he can afford.

Tharn smirks. "I am sure we can... settle for some arrangements later."

"No. Speak now."

"Kit..." Type glares and Tharn backtracks. "Tyyyppeee... it is free. It is a requirement to get my advanced degree but students bring me snacks because my classes are not limited to Uni stipulated sessions. It is not mandatory but the teacher gets hungry too, you know."

"As if you cannot afford food." Type says unamused.

"About that..." Tharn leans closer but Type takes a step back. "University has non-disclosure policy. Meaning nobody here really knows that I am... you know... I am..."

"The Prince?"

"Uhuh... I love to keep it that way."

"Why?"

Tharn shrugs. "It is not that fancy as others think. I lose opportunities because of my status."

"Lose opportunities?" Type's eyebrows rise to his hairline.

"You would not understand. Opportunities you take for granted, Kitten. For your information, Teacher Suppasit is just a teacher for the students here. I believe I am clear."

"But... he... everyone knows him..."

"People only see what they want to see, Type. A projection is all many need." Tharn intensely focuses on Type's intense grey eyes with black speckles.

Type suddenly feels a bit... bit guilty of something but he knows he cannot risk anything for whatever reasons.

Type nods when the silence stretches uncomfortably too long.

"So, you will keep my secret? Promise?" Tharn asks with a beautiful smile.

"If you promise to keep mine." Type proposes.

"Your secret? What secret do you have?"

Type uncomfortably shifts on his feet.

"Everybody knows you are a necromancer, Type. Not clearly who you are or anything but... That is no secret. Especially with your tattoos..."

Tharn is drawn to Type's tattoos like no other. Even more when he has come to know that these tattoos are natural and more like marks of powerful spells.

They are so beautiful on hi... the Kitten.

Without the Control Stones, Type is truly, utterly, deliciously, beautiful and...

Tharn looks away, clearing his throat.

But Type is not replying and only glaring at him through the lashes and the pinched lips reveals how frustrated the kitty is.

"Type... what secret?" Tharn has no idea.

"The one you know... I don't want anyone to know."

Tharn frowns but then notices the flaming blush, the ducked head, the uncomfortable swaying and... gorgeous, gorgeous shyness on his molten dark fire of a necromancer.

Tharn silently chuckles when understanding daunts in.

"Is that a secret? Why? It is... a blessing and we have students with... 'secret' like yours in this Uni."

Type refuses to answer.

"People will love you more. So why?" Tharn leans in a bit more closer with a smile and Type takes another step back.

"I could ask you the same. People will love you more. So why?" Type asks sternly.

Tharn remains silent, his eyes memorizing Type's facial features the thousandth time.

"Touché, Kitten."

"And do not call me Kitten!"

"Not fair. One secret for one secret." Tharn crosses his hands over his chest and Type averts his eyes noticing the bulging veins.

"Whatever. I will bring nachos for tomorrow's class. Fine?" Type shrugs his left shoulder.

"Extra cheese, please." Tharn mimics Type's shrug with fond eyes.

"No. I will bring less cheese, more salt." Type rolls his eyes and walks past Tharn.

But the man leans again to his ear and whispers something. The raspy voice with warmth of Tharn's breath making all of Type's hair stand up and Type runs away with burning red cheeks and thudding heart... but he strengthens his resolve - nothing will ever happen.

'Unlike mine... yours is a pretty little secret, Kitten. I promise you and your secret are safe with me.'