Laos

The grand ballroom of Phoenix Academy had never looked quite so alive.

Crystal chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, casting warm golden light across the polished marble floors. Elegant decorations adorned the walls, intertwining ribbons of deep red and gold with arrangements of artificial phoenix feathers, the academy's emblem proudly displayed above the stage. Tall windows overlooked the sprawling kingdom of Valora below, where the lights of Aurelion glittered beneath the night sky like a sea of distant stars. Music drifted through the hall, played by a small ensemble stationed upon an elevated platform, their melodies occasionally drowned out by the laughter and excited chatter of students enjoying their evening.

It was prom night.

For weeks, the event had been the subject of endless conversations throughout Phoenix Academy. Students had spent days discussing their outfits, arranging dates, debating which songs the organisers might choose, and speculating about who would inevitably embarrass themselves on the dance floor. Even the instructors had seemed more relaxed than usual, allowing themselves to enjoy the festivities while keeping a watchful eye on their students.

The academy had gone to considerable lengths to make the evening memorable. Tables laden with refreshments lined the perimeter of the ballroom, offering everything from elaborate desserts to carefully prepared meals. Colourful lights illuminated the dance floor, where couples swayed to the music and groups of friends laughed together beneath the chandeliers. Along the far wall, several students had already begun taking photographs, determined to preserve every possible memory of the occasion.

And then, of course, there was Laos.

Standing near one of the tall windows, a glass of untouched punch resting in his hand, the young man watched the festivities with a faint, polite smile.

He was dressed far more elegantly than he would have liked.

His usual black Huntsman attire had been replaced by a glittering navy-blue evening dress, its fabric catching the golden light whenever he moved. It was a beautiful garment, admittedly. The subtle shimmer of its material complemented his dark mocha skin, while the elegant cut gave him an appearance considerably more refined than his usual combination of cargo pants, crop tops, and heavy combat boots. His short black hair had been tidied for the occasion, although a few stubborn strands had already fallen out of place. His purple eyes reflected the lights of the ballroom as he watched a group of students erupt into laughter over something that had apparently happened on the dance floor.

He should have been enjoying himself.

In theory, this was precisely the sort of occasion students looked forward to. An opportunity to relax, spend time with friends, celebrate their achievements, and forget about the pressures of training to become Huntsmen and Huntresses. There were no combat examinations scheduled for the following morning, no lectures demanding their attention, and no instructors barking orders at them to improve their footwork or refine their weapon techniques.

For one evening, they were simply students.

Laos ought to have been one of them.

Instead, he had spent the better part of the evening being introduced to people he already knew, congratulated for achievements he had barely had the opportunity to celebrate, and reminded of the future that awaited him.

"The future headmaster of Phoenix Academy."

The words had followed him everywhere.

They had been spoken with admiration by instructors, with curiosity by younger students, and with a peculiar mixture of expectation and envy by those who believed being the son of the academy's headmasters must make his life wonderfully convenient. Some imagined that he would inherit an impressive office, enjoy unquestioned authority, and spend his days making decisions from behind an enormous desk. Others seemed convinced that his family name alone would guarantee him a comfortable future.

None of them seemed particularly interested in asking whether it was a future he wanted.

Laos took a small sip of his punch.

It was far too sweet.

He resisted the urge to grimace.

Across the ballroom, a familiar voice called his name. One of his fellow students raised a hand in greeting, gesturing enthusiastically for him to join a group gathering near the dance floor. Laos responded with a small wave and a courteous smile, silently promising himself that he would join them in a moment.

He had been making that promise for nearly half an hour.

It wasn't that he disliked his fellow students. Quite the opposite, in fact. Laos enjoyed their company more than he often let on, and he had always found it easier to relax around people who treated him as another student rather than as the eventual successor to Phoenix Academy's leadership. With them, he could occasionally forget the expectations placed upon his shoulders.

But tonight, even their company seemed unable to quiet the thoughts circling endlessly through his mind.

His parents had insisted that he attend the prom.

Not because he had expressed any particular interest in it, nor because they believed he needed an evening to relax. They had simply reminded him that his presence would be expected, that the headmasters' son ought to participate in important academy traditions, and that a future leader should make an effort to be seen among the people he would one day lead.

There had been nothing particularly unreasonable about any of those statements.

That was what made them so exhausting.

His parents rarely needed to issue outright commands. More often than not, their expectations arrived disguised as sensible suggestions, gentle reminders, or well-intentioned advice. Every decision became an opportunity to prepare him for his future. Every accomplishment was treated as evidence that their efforts were working. Even moments that should have belonged to him somehow became another part of his education.

Sometimes, Laos wondered whether they would ever look at him without seeing the person they wanted him to become.

He lowered his gaze to the glass in his hand.

The navy dress had been another compromise.

He had wanted to wear his usual Huntsman outfit, perhaps with a slightly more formal jacket if the occasion truly demanded it. His parents, however, had considered the idea inappropriate for a formal academy event, especially one attended by representatives of the kingdom's Huntsman community. The dress had been their suggestion, presented with the sort of certainty that made disagreement feel almost childish.

Laos had accepted.

He always seemed to accept eventually.

Still, he had paired it with his usual simple sneakers.

It was a small thing, almost insignificant in the grand scheme of his life, but it was his decision. A tiny piece of stubborn individuality that nobody had managed to talk him out of. He could already imagine his mother's disapproving glance if she noticed them, and the thought brought a faint, almost mischievous smile to his face.

Perhaps that was enough rebellion for one evening.

Perhaps not.

A sudden burst of applause drew his attention back towards the dance floor. Someone had apparently convinced a particularly reluctant instructor to join in, and the sight of the usually stern Huntsman attempting to follow the rhythm had sent several students into fits of laughter.

Laos chuckled softly.

For a brief moment, the sound came naturally.

There it was, he thought. That familiar warmth, that simple pleasure of watching people enjoy themselves without worrying about what the moment was supposed to accomplish. It reminded him of what he had once loved about Phoenix Academy before every corner of the institution had become associated with his inevitable future.

He remembered being younger, wandering through the academy's courtyards without a schedule to follow, spending entire afternoons experimenting with his staff, and occasionally sneaking away from lessons to watch older students spar. Back then, the idea of becoming a Huntsman had seemed exciting. His future had been full of possibilities, and the world beyond the academy's walls had appeared impossibly vast.

He had wanted to explore it.

To travel across Valora, to visit the other kingdoms, to encounter people whose lives had nothing to do with his family's reputation. He had wanted to take missions because they interested him, learn things because he found them fascinating, and discover the sort of person he might become when nobody was telling him what that person ought to look like.

He still wanted those things.

That was the trouble.

His affection for his parents had never disappeared. He wanted them to be proud of him. He wanted to see genuine happiness in their expressions when they spoke about him, to hear them say that he had done well without immediately following it with another expectation.

Yet he also wanted his life back.

The two desires seemed perfectly reasonable when considered separately. Together, they had become an impossible knot that he could neither untangle nor bring himself to cut.

A fresh wave of music filled the ballroom, faster and more energetic than the previous song. Students cheered as the rhythm changed, and several couples hurried onto the dance floor before someone else could claim their space.

Laos watched them for another moment before glancing towards the refreshments table.

Perhaps he could find something less sugary to drink.

Or perhaps he could simply leave.

The thought arrived so casually that it took him a moment to recognise it as an actual possibility.

He glanced towards the entrance, where students continued to come and go. Nobody was guarding the doors, and there was no rule requiring attendees to remain until the very end. The event was organised for the students, after all. It wasn't a compulsory examination, despite the peculiar sense of obligation his parents had managed to attach to it.

He could leave whenever he wanted.

The realisation was both embarrassingly obvious and strangely liberating.

Laos set his glass down on a nearby table, taking care not to leave it somewhere it might be knocked over. He adjusted the fabric of his dress, smoothed a hand over his short hair, and took one final look around the ballroom.

It really was a lovely evening.

The lights, the music, the laughter, the sight of students who had spent weeks worrying about Grimm encounters and combat assessments finally allowing themselves to enjoy a little peace. There was something genuinely heartwarming about it all, something he wished he could have immersed himself in without the persistent weight of his thoughts.

Perhaps another year.

Perhaps if he were a little less tired.

Perhaps if he could learn how to enjoy something without wondering whether he was enjoying it correctly.

He exhaled through his nose, quietly amused by his own tendency to overthink even the simplest decisions.

"Right," he murmured to himself. "That's quite enough of that."

With that, Laos turned away from the ballroom and began making his way towards the exit.

Leaving the main hall was like stepping into an entirely different world.

The music softened behind him as the heavy doors closed, replaced by the gentle hum of the academy's ventilation system and the distant sounds of activity elsewhere in the building. The corridor was illuminated by elegant wall lamps, their warm light reflecting off the polished stone floor. Decorative banners hung between the windows, each bearing the phoenix emblem that had represented the academy for generations.

A few students lingered along the corridor, taking a break from the festivities or heading towards the quieter parts of the campus. Somewhere in the distance, a pair of students could be heard arguing good-naturedly about a dance move, their voices fading as they disappeared around a corner.

Laos felt his shoulders relax.

He hadn't realised how tense he had been until the noise was no longer pressing against him from every direction.

The academy was beautiful at night. Without the bustle of students rushing between lessons or the constant activity of the training grounds, its halls possessed a peaceful atmosphere that he rarely had the opportunity to appreciate. Moonlight spilled through the tall windows, illuminating the distant silhouette of the mountains beyond the campus. Far below, Aurelion glittered against the darkness, its streets and buildings forming a sprawling constellation of artificial lights.

For a moment, Laos stopped beside one of the windows.

He wondered what it would feel like to stand somewhere out there, in the middle of the city, without anyone recognising his surname. To enter a café without being greeted as the headmasters' son. To wander through unfamiliar streets without somebody reminding him that he ought to be preparing for the responsibilities awaiting him.

No. Not tonight.

Tonight, he wanted to think about something else.

With a quiet hum, Laos resumed walking, his sneakers making barely a sound against the polished floor. He passed the academy's trophy displays, where generations of Huntsmen were immortalised in photographs and engraved plaques. He passed the doors leading to the lecture halls where he had spent countless hours studying Grimm anatomy, combat theory, and the responsibilities of a Huntsman. He even passed the corridor leading towards the headmasters' administrative offices, deliberately choosing not to look in that direction.

He wasn't heading anywhere in particular.

Perhaps he would find a quiet courtyard and sit beneath the stars for a while. Perhaps he would visit one of the vending machines and find something edible before returning to his dormitory. Perhaps he would simply wander until he felt like going back.

For once, he didn't need to have a plan.

He was halfway through considering whether the western courtyard would be quieter than the gardens near the training grounds when he rounded a corner a little too quickly.

And promptly walked straight into someone.

The collision wasn't particularly forceful, but it was enough to interrupt his train of thought and send him stumbling half a step backwards. His hand instinctively reached out to steady himself, while the other caught the side of his dress before he could accidentally step on its hem.

"Oh!"

Laos straightened immediately, his purple eyes widening as he realised what had happened.

"I'm terribly sorry!" he blurted out, his usual politeness taking precedence over his own surprise. "I wasn't watching where I was going. I was rather distracted, and that is absolutely no excuse for nearly knocking someone over."

He paused, visibly collecting himself, before offering an apologetic smile.

"Are you alright?"

Only then did he properly take in the person standing before him.

For a moment, the sounds of the prom seemed very far away. The music continued to drift faintly through the academy's corridors, and the distant city lights remained visible through the windows, but Laos's attention had shifted entirely to the unexpected encounter.

"Although, I suppose I ought to ask what you're doing out here as well," he added, a hint of gentle humour entering his voice. "Surely I can't be the only person who decided that the prom was becoming a little too much."

His smile grew just a fraction.

"Unless, of course, you're on your way to the ballroom. In which case, I promise I won't keep you."

He fell quiet, leaving the corridor open between them, his attention resting on the unexpected stranger and his thoughts, for once, no longer occupied by the expectations waiting for him inside the ballroom.