Chapter 3 Welcome to the Magic Academy

Yvette's POV

The car drove for about two hours.

I dozed off in the middle, and when I woke up, I found the car had already stopped.

Wetherell opened the door and got out. I followed him and found myself standing on a quiet street.

I'd only seen Los Angeles in movies before. There were no neon lights like I'd imagined, no bustling crowds—just rows of closed shops and the occasional passing car.

The air had a faint smell of the sea mixed with gasoline.

Wetherell walked toward a shop at the corner. The sign read "Antiques & Curiosities," the letters already faded, with some old-looking porcelain displayed in the glass window.

He pushed open the door, and the bell above it jingled.

Inside was dark, with only a desk lamp lit on the counter, casting a dim yellow glow on a bald man reading a newspaper.

He looked up, saw Wetherell, nodded without saying anything, then lowered his head to continue reading his paper.

Wetherell ignored him and walked straight toward the back of the shop.

I followed behind him, carefully avoiding the various items piled on the floor, finally stopping in front of a shelf.

Wetherell raised his hand and drew his finger lightly through the air.

The shelf moved, sliding open like a door to reveal a smooth elevator behind it.

Wetherell pressed a hidden button next to the elevator, and the doors opened.

I hesitated for a moment, then stepped inside.

The elevator interior surprised me. It wasn't a cramped space, but rather spacious.

The floor was dark wood parquet with a slight spring when you stepped on it. All four walls were mirrors, from floor to ceiling, each one as clear as a calm lake.

This elevator was more luxurious than any room I'd ever lived in.

Wetherell stood beside me, hands clasped behind his back. "Technology is developing faster and faster these days. To avoid affecting normal human life, we built the school underground."

As soon as he finished speaking, the elevator began descending. There was no feeling of weightlessness—I couldn't even tell I was moving.

I looked at myself in the mirror and couldn't help reaching out to touch the mirror in front of me.

The moment my fingertip touched the mirror's surface, something strange happened.

My finger went into the mirror, creating ripples around it, like a stone dropped into a calm lake.

I got scared and tried to pull my hand back, but my finger seemed stuck to something and wouldn't come out.

The ripples spread outward from my fingertip, and the mirror's surface began to blur. It no longer showed my reflection.

I saw a stretch of deep blue seawater filling the entire mirror, with many small fish swimming past before my eyes.

I jumped in fright and struggled to pull my hand back.

The instant my finger left the mirror's surface, it returned to normal.

"What... what was that?" My voice was shaking.

Wetherell looked at me, a pleased smile on his face. "You're much stronger than I imagined. This mirror is made with magic. Only wizards with powerful magnetic fields can make it reveal its true nature."

I froze, my face full of disbelief. "Are you saying... we're underwater right now?"

Wetherell nodded, looking at me kindly.

I stood in front of the mirror, a mix of fear and some inexplicable excitement rising in my chest.

"Mr. Wetherell," I said.

"Yes?"

"Does magic really exist in this world?"

He glanced at me and pulled a wooden stick from his suit's inner pocket—twelve inches long, dark brown wood with no decoration, though you could see fine grain in the light.

Wetherell walked to the elevator door and lightly tapped the door panel with the tip of the stick.

The door opened.

What came into view was a sunlit grassy field.

Above was a bright blue sky, with sunlight streaming down from behind the clouds, casting moving patches of light on the grass.

In the distance stood a cluster of buildings with Gothic spires. The exterior walls were a warm beige color, glowing softly in the sunlight.

Around the buildings were large lawns and flower beds.

On the lawn, several people wore dark blue robes with silver trim on the collars and cuffs. A few others were riding on brooms, wobbling unsteadily in mid-air.

I stared at this scene, my mouth hanging open in shock.

"Welcome to St. Daye Academy." Wetherell's voice came from beside me. "From now on, you're a member of the magic school."

"Magic school..." I murmured, not yet having processed this information when a voice called from the distance.

"Wetherell!"

A tall man strode toward us.

He was probably in his fifties, with a thick black beard messily surrounding his chin, adding a fierce look to an already unfriendly face.

He wore the same robes as the other students, but darker, almost black, with no silver trim on the collar. Instead, there was a gold brooch shaped like a star with a trailing tail.

"Where did you run off to?" The bearded man stopped in front of Wetherell, his tone clearly displeased. "Those brats in Group Beta caused trouble again. They burned through the third-floor barrier in the lab, and now the entire east corridor is full of smoke."

Wetherell sighed. "Is it serious?"

"Under control for now," the bearded man said. "But if you'd come back half an hour later, I would've had to evacuate the entire building."

"Got it, I'll handle it in a bit." Wetherell nodded, then stepped aside and pulled me forward. "Hardwin, let me introduce someone to you."

Hardwin's gaze fell on me. He studied me for a long time, his brow furrowing. "She is..."

"Cecilia's daughter," Wetherell answered.

The bearded man's expression changed instantly, showing a complex emotion.

"Yvette, this is Professor Hardwin." Wetherell turned to me. "From now on, he'll be your mentor."

Mentor.

Professor Hardwin glanced at me, then snorted through his nose.

I could tell his impression of me wasn't good.

"Professor Hardwin will show you around," Wetherell said, then turned to Hardwin. "I still have things to deal with. Can you take her to get familiar with the classroom?"

Hardwin snorted again—his way of responding.

Wetherell nodded at me. His robes billowed behind him, and within seconds he disappeared from view.

That left me and Hardwin standing face to face.

Hardwin glanced at me sideways, turned around, and without looking back, tossed out a sentence: "What are you standing there for? Keep up."