The Hidden Heir At Valaris Academy

It was around 8 AM, early morning, when a young man with fluffy hair arrived at the city’s student terminal, wearing a coat slightly too large for his shoulders and shoes that didn’t match, with an old backpack fastened at his back.

His hair was dark and unevenly cut, and his eyes shifted, looking around. From just a glance, you could tell he was someone who wasn't used to places like this.

He stepped off the regional bus immediately after it stopped and was amazed. Around him, he saw other students arriving in luxurious cars, escorted by assistants and surrounded by luggage trolleys and school emblems on their sleeves, but he had none of that.

He carried a single canvas pack and a folded admission form under his arm, holding it like it might disappear. As he walked toward the school gate, a tall guard in a blue uniform stepped forward and blocked his way, disgusted by his dressing and strange looks.

“No unauthorized entries,” he barked. “Are you from the villages?”

The young man paused. “Yes, but I have an admission.”

“Since when did this academy start to allow just everyone to become a student?” The security guard thought to himself.

Without a word, he narrowed his eyes and said. “ID.”

The young man nodded and brought out a slim red card and handed it over to the guard.

“Here, please.” He said.

The guard rolled his eyes as he slid it through the reader, expecting an error so he could use the opportunity to chase him out, but then something magical happened.

Instead of an error, the scanner beeped and flashed gold.

“Gulp!”

His body trembled slightly before he straightened. The screen displayed: Access Level: Priority One. Clearance Valid.

“What?” He looked stunned.

That level of access wasn’t given to just anyone, not even the children of local politicians. It was something they used for children of ultimate high-level donors, board members, or families worth several millions.

What made him more stunned was the fact he knew about that type of access but hadn't seen any students. have it, but the young man standing in front of him looked like he’d just stepped out of a mechanic’s shed, which shocked him.

The guard cleared his throat out of fear.

“Apologies, sir, you may proceed.” He said, afraid he might be any wealthy man's disguised son, which could cost him his job.

"Head over to Block C." He quickly said, giving him the directions.

The young man nodded and walked through the gates of Valaris Academy without another word. Looking at the Valaris academy building, he was stunned. He had heard of the academy before as one of the top academies; that status had been everything. Wealth was displayed openly, and influence was inherited, performed, and defended, but it was the first time seeing the school itself.

The main building was just as big as a museum. Wide steps with indoor fountains and bronze nameplates. Students in clean uniforms gathered in small groups, adjusting collars, tapping on tablets, and exchanging names and houses.

He passed through the hall unnoticed until one guy glanced his way and was stunned by the difference in his dressing.

“Who let an Ashlander kind in here?” He muttered.

*"Ashlander" was the name those in the cities referred to the villagers, and also the academy's quiet insult for those who did not belong among legacy families and polished elites.

Another guy beside him laughed. “Probably here to fix the plumbing or here to apply for the cleaner’s position.”

The young man heard all of these but said nothing. He’d been told to report to Registration Block C, and that was his only focus.

By the time he reached the registrar’s door, a few students had tailed him, curious, amused, and suspicious of his looks. He knocked on the door of the registration in Block C and entered, where he saw a woman dressed professionally seated behind the desk.

The woman behind the desk didn’t look up. “Name?” she asked briskly.

“Kael,” the young man replied.

“No surname?” she asked, now glancing up at him and pausing. Her eyes swept over his oversized coat, mismatched shoes, and village-made canvas pack, which stunned her. The city-ready students outside didn’t look anything like this.

Kael met her gaze calmly. “Kael Danaru,” he said, voice even.

Her fingers hovered for a moment before typing. She squinted at the screen, then asked with a trace of doubt, “Are you an Ashlander?”

Kael blinked. “Who’s an Ashlander?”

The woman raised an eyebrow. “People from the villages,” she said, tone clipped. “Outskirts. You know, the ones who still farm and grow their own food.”

Kael tilted his head slightly. “I’m from Berylan.”

She clicked her tongue under her breath, already judging. “That’s the Ashland region.”

He didn’t respond. He didn’t see the point.

“What’s an Ashlander doing here?” The woman asked sharply, her voice rising as her eyes narrowed. “How did you even get access to this school?”

Kael remained calm. “I have an admission,” he said, stepping forward and gently placing the folded file in his hand onto the counter.

“That’s why I’m here.”

The woman scoffed but opened the file anyway, flipping through the papers with visible skepticism. Her fingers stopped abruptly on the third page.

“What?” she muttered, eyes narrowing.

There it was, a small sticker at the top-right corner of his acceptance slip. Rectangular and holographic, imprinted within it was a design: an eagle in flight with a gold band across its wings and a tiny numeric code below, 10M-HCL. Only a few people in the entire academy knew what the sticker truly meant.

The High Clearance Legacy sticker was reserved for students whose families had verified net worths of at least ten million dollars or more. These were the children of oil conglomerates, real estate empires, and founding investors. It was more than just a marker; it was a shield, a status that quietly ruled the school.

And now it sat impossibly on the file of a boy who looked like he’d walked from a farm. She snapped the file shut and slammed her palm on the table.

“How dare you?”

Kael blinked, confused by her sudden anger.

“Where did an Ashlander get the guts to forge this?” she barked. “This is a restricted classification. You think you can slap a sticker and walk through the gates like you belong here?”

“Forge?” Kael frowned deeply, confused. “I didn’t do anything of the sort. This file is genuine and was given to me by my grandpa, please.” he replied.

“Oh, I’m sure it is,” she sneered sarcastically, her eyes narrowing. “Genuine, with shoes that don’t match and a coat stitched by hand. You expect me to believe you’re from a family worth over ten million dollars?”

Kael’s jaw clenched slightly, but his tone remained respectful.

“I don’t know what that sticker means,” he said quietly. “But that’s the file I was given. My name is Kael Danaru, and I was told to report here by the security guard after verifying my ID.”

The woman stared at him, like she wanted to rip the sticker off and expose a scam on the spot. Her lips curled in frustration as she shoved the file back onto the desk.

“I don’t have time to deal with this nonsense,” she snapped. “The principal himself will handle you.”

She pressed the button on the desk phone, her tone sharp as she spoke into the receiver.

“Principal, sir, I want to report a case. A new student just came in here with a forged admission, including a forged High Clearance Legacy sticker.”