There's a thin line separating the comfort of home from the unpredictable outside world.

  For most kids, that line is called the school gate.

  All this time, I've been satisfied being an observer from behind the neighborhood fence, hiding behind the identity of a little kid who only knows how to play. However, time keeps moving and is hard to stop.

  It moves without sound, and suddenly, it's already standing at my door. Time demands I let go of that comfort and start a new change.

  That morning's knock on my bedroom door was a sign that my leisure time had run out.

  ? ? ?

  That morning, Mom woke me up earlier than usual. Not because there's an important guest or because Dad suddenly showed up to bother me. Not because of a fire or disaster that requires us to evacuate either.

  Just for one simple reason. First day of kindergarten.

  I sat on the edge of the bed with eyes still half-closed. My hair a mess like a bird's nest, while Mom busied herself getting clothes from the closet.

  "Hurry and shower, Sera. You'll be late," she said while placing a white uniform with pink skirt on my bed.

  I nodded lazily. Honestly, I wasn't too enthusiastic.

  Kindergarten is a place where kids are taught basic things. Singing. Drawing. Counting one to ten. Maybe coloring pictures of rabbits or cats.

  I can already do all that. Even more.

  However, logic like that doesn't apply here. In this world, kids around five years old still have to go to school.

  It's an unwritten rule made by parents and society. And as a small child, my job is just to obey.

  After showering, I put on that uniform a bit reluctantly. Mom combed my hair gently, then tied it in two pigtails with pink ribbons matching my skirt.

  "Look, so pretty," Mom murmured while looking at me in the mirror.

  Hearing that praise, I looked at my reflection.

  Standing there was a tiny figure in a new kindergarten uniform still stiff from never being washed. White top with thin lace at the collar, pink skirt that puffs out every time I move, and a small cap with the Imperial Academy Kindergarten logo sitting a bit crooked on my head.

  I looked at my reflection bitterly. Oh god... this is really happening.

  My biggest fear about school finally appeared. When in my imagination at least I could still choose what to wear.

  I actually wanted long pants. Clothes far more practical if I want to run or climb the slide. To me, school should be a place to move freely. And for that, pants are clearly the more logical choice.

  But reality reminded me again that I don't yet have power over my own choices. I sighed quietly, looking at the lace on my collar that felt a bit constricting.

  Rules. One more rigid limitation of this world.

  Besides, what did I expect? I live in an Empire.

  I looked at my own legs. That pink skirt puffed slightly around my knees. Awkwardly I tidied its folds.

  I clenched my small hands gently, encouraging myself.

  I can definitely get through... kindergarten.

  ? ? ?

  Armed with that small determination, I stepped to the dining room with mixed feelings. My new shoes squeaked quietly on the wooden floor. This uniform still felt foreign on my skin, like a second skin not yet fully comfortable.

  But once I entered the dining room, I was immediately stunned. The atmosphere there was far more chaotic than I imagined.

  At the kitchen doorway threshold stood a very familiar shadow.

  Dad.

  Wearing Mom's apron that was too small for his body, his arms awkwardly holding a spatula. His face beaming with a wide smile that's a bit tacky.

  "Good morning, Papa's little princess!" he exclaimed in a voice too enthusiastic for this hour. "Papa already made special eggs! Look! Papa made a heart shape... uh, star shape! Papa meant star!"

  I looked at the plate in his hand. The sunny-side-up egg there looked more like an irregular lump than a star. Or heart. Or anything.

  "Why's the shape weird, Dad?"

  Dad pretended to be offended. His other hand patted his chest.

  "Oh, Sera. Papa woke up early, wearing this tight apron, battling hot oil that splattered." He pointed to his smooth arm without injury. "And this is the thanks Papa gets?"

  I looked at his arm briefly. There's nothing there. Seeing his effort that seemed hard, I sighed then nodded enthusiastically.

  "Thanks, Dad."

  "There we go." Dad smiled, satisfied, and just reached out to ruffle my hair.

  "Don't!" Mom swatted his hand away. "Mama already worked hard fixing it."

  Dad's hand stopped mid-air before finally he pulled it back with a resigned face. Seeing that scene, I looked at him suspiciously.

  "Aren't you supposed to leave?"

  Dad tilted his head slightly, his smile widening. "Papa thought... this is Papa's little princess's first day of school. How could Papa miss it?"

  I blinked slowly. Hm... he has a point. I guess I asked something unnecessary. Without realizing it, the corner of my lips lifted slightly.

  But before I could say anything, Dad was already standing again. He posed with one hand on his hip, while the other hand held the spatula like an advertisement model.

  "Besides, how could Papa not be at this historic moment? Later Sera tells friends, 'My dad didn't come on my first day of school,' then they say, 'How pitiful you are, Sera, your dad must not love you...'"

  "Dad."

  "...when Papa is actually the most loving dad eve..."

  "Dad."

  "Yes, Sweetheart?"

  I covered my face briefly with my small hand. "Dad, you're tacky."

  Mom giggled quietly behind while covering her mouth with her hand. Dad froze briefly before clearing his throat gently, as if just returning to reality. He then turned to Mom with a wounded expression.

  "Honey, our child said I'm tacky."

  Mom shrugged while smiling. "You are."

  I held back laughter. Almost slipped out.

  Dad always has a way of making me smile, though sometimes his way is a bit embarrassing. However, our jokes had to end soon. Before Dad could start another dramatic speech, Mom had already clapped gently once.

  "Alright, enough playing around." She fitted a small backpack onto my shoulders with precision. "Sera has to get there ten minutes before the gate closes. We don't want her first day in the school record to start with the word 'late', right?"

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Dad immediately stood straight, giving a mock salute that Mom completely ignored.

  ? ? ?

  At 07:30, we were already standing at the gate. The atmosphere far from calm.

  The sidewalk full of parents busy tidying their children's clothes. The sound of neatly parked car engines everywhere, and one or two kids crying from refusing to get out of vehicles.

  In the midst of that commotion, I just stood frozen while feeling the weight on my shoulders.

  A small rabbit-shaped backpack stuck to my back. That was Mom's choice, not mine.

  The kindergarten cap I'd tilted earlier to look more fashionable was immediately fixed again by Mom, back to the position of a kindergarten kid who must be neat. I could only surrender.

  Seeing me just staying quiet, Mom observed me briefly, then knelt so our faces were level.

  "Are you brave?" she asked gently.

  I looked at her eyes. Her warm but anxious eyes. Like worried I'd suddenly cry and ask to go home. I just nodded.

  Brave? I'm very brave!

  Hearing my answer, Mom smiled. She tidied my hair a bit, then stood. "If anything happens, tell your teacher, okay. Mama will pick you up this afternoon."

  "Yes, Ma."

  "Don't forget," Dad interjected, who had been watching us. "If anyone's mean, report to your teacher. If your teacher can't handle it, report to Papa."

  "Oh... okay."

  He then stroked my head gently. "Most importantly, don't be afraid to report, okay."

  I nodded. "Yesss~ Dad," I answered while trying to keep my tone like a little kid.

  "Now let's continue! Papa has to take pictures of Sera in front of the school gate! To make it a keepsake!" said Dad in a louder voice because his face suddenly sparkled.

  In front of the kindergarten gate, Dad really took out a camera. Not a phone camera. A real camera. Big. With a lens that looked expensive.

  I squinted suspiciously. "Dad brought a camera from home?"

  "Of course!" Dad photographed me from various angles. "Historic moments must be captured with the best equipment! Tilt slightly to the left, Sera! Yes, like that! Now look here! Smile!"

  I could only surrender. However, Dad's action started attracting attention. Several other parents turned, confused.

  A father carrying his child had to stop walking. Dad suddenly crouched in the middle of the road to get the right photo angle.

  "Sorry," Mom mumbled to people bothered by Dad's behavior.

  However, Dad didn't seem to care. He busied himself changing positions, sometimes crouching, sometimes standing on the sidewalk, sometimes telling me to stand beside the school sign.

  "Now a photo together with Papa!" he exclaimed.

  Without waiting for approval, Mom was forced to become an impromptu photographer.

  Dad carried me. First pose: Dad pointing at the school sign with a pretend amazed face. Second pose: Dad kissing my cheek while I pretended to be disgusted. Third pose: Dad standing straight in a model pose, I just stood beside him with a flat face.

  "Honey, Sera's not smiling," Dad protested to Mom.

  Mom pressed the camera button with an annoyed expression. "Enough, enough. That's enough. Sera will be late."

  Aware time was almost up, Dad finally lowered the camera. He looked at me once more. Then he knelt.

  "Most importantly..." He tidied my shirt collar. "Be diligent at school. Listen to your teacher."

  "Watch out, Sera, don't be naughty at school," Mom's message added.

  "I'm not naughty, Ma."

  Mom smiled. "Yes, Mama knows. But sometimes you're too quiet. Play with friends, okay. Don't just stay in the corner alone."

  I nodded, swallowing breath slowly. "Yes, Ma."

  My gaze then shifted toward the school. At the open gate, three neatly uniformed teachers were already standing to greet. They held attendance books and alertly shook hands with each arriving child.

  One teacher, wearing glasses, turned toward us and smiled. She signaled for me to come closer so the gate wouldn't get more congested by the crowd of parents.

  I turned briefly to Dad who smiled warmly while giving an encouraging signal. I looked at them briefly, then waved slightly.

  With slight hesitation, I shook hands with the teacher at the gate and made sure my name was recorded. After that, I turned and stepped toward the school's inner area. I followed behind that bespectacled teacher like a chick along with the other children.

  One step. Three steps. I turned around.

  Dad and Mom were still standing at the same spot, held behind the yellow line of the drop-off zone. Dad waved with one hand, the other hand holding the camera ready to snap again. Mom smiled while wiping the corner of her eyes.

  I waved again. Then I entered, passing through that gate.

  Alone.

  But turns out, that lonely feeling quickly disappeared. I wasn't alone because many kids like me were passing through this gate.

  The corridor to class full of the commotion of running children, while teachers busied themselves directing them not to get lost to other areas. At first I thought many of them would cry, but turns out I was wrong.

  Most of them actually looked enthusiastic rather than sad, except for a few girls who still looked puffy-eyed.

  I walked along the long corridor flanked by two rows of colorful flower pots. The ceramic floor gleamed, reflecting the shadows of passing children.

  On the walls, landscape pictures with rolling hills and open meadows were displayed. Works by last year's students, maybe. However, those peaceful scenes on the walls contrasted sharply with the situation below them.

  Several times I almost tripped from having to dodge running boys, chased by friends shouting. A teacher yelled gently, "Don't run inside!" but those kids didn't care much.

  Seeing that small chaos, I walked more carefully. This skirt really bothered my movement. If not careful, someone could see my underwear.

  Occasionally I glanced right and left, observing my new environment. This school building was quite old, but well-maintained. The wall paint still bright, the ventilation wide so morning sunlight entered freely.

  From the end of the corridor, chaotic sounds mixed with children's off-key singing could be heard.

  This is it, Imperial Academy Kindergarten. The place where I'll spend the next year. Maybe two years, depending on school policy.

  I sighed quietly. While still under the guidance of that bespectacled teacher, I kept walking past many classrooms with funny names, from Peanut Class to Balloon Class.

  Occasionally we passed a teacher busy calming a sobbing girl while holding tight to the edge of the teacher's skirt. Up front right, several boys already started throwing shoes into the hallway for who knows what reason.

  Suddenly, the silence between us broke when that teacher asked while still walking.

  "What's your name, dear?"

  I glanced briefly at the small nameplate pinned to the left chest of her uniform. Rini S. That's what was written there.

  "Seraphina, Ma'am."

  "Seraphina... Sera. A beautiful name," she said lightly. "Oh yeah, that dad who was taking pictures earlier, that's your dad?"

  My cheeks suddenly felt hot. I looked down. "Y... yes, Ma'am."

  She laughed gently, her voice bright but friendly. "Your dad is so funny. So enthusiastic."

  I could only smile sourly. Dad, you embarrassed me!

  "But that's good, you know." As if able to read my thoughts, Ms. Rini patted the top of my head gently. "It means your dad really loves you."

  Not long after, we stopped in front of a classroom door. On the door was stuck a giant sun picture from origami paper. Above it was a board with colorful letters reading "Flower Class".

  "This is your class." She knocked on the door briefly then opened it. "Ms. Ida, this is your new student."

  From inside the class, a middle-aged teacher with neatly bunned hair turned. Her face round with round glasses that made her look like a kindergarten teacher who seemed strict but caring.

  "Ah, Sera! I've been waiting. Come in, dear."

  Before leaving, the teacher who escorted me bowed slightly. "Good luck, Sera. Play nicely with friends."

  I lowered my small head while nodding. "Thank you, Ma'am."

  After she left, I stepped into the class. My eyes immediately scanned the room.

  This class was quite spacious. Its walls full of alphabet letters and numbers stuck from flannel fabric. In the right corner, there's a shelf containing stacking block toys and puzzles. In the left corner, there's a round carpet where several kids were already sitting cross-legged.

  The rest of the kids were still busy at their respective tables. Some drawing, some just sitting dazed.

  However, my attention was immediately diverted by one very familiar figure. Surprisingly, turns out Julian was in the same class as me.

  He was busy scribbling on his paper, looking so absorbed he hadn't realized my presence yet.

  Before I could react further, Ms. Ida, my homeroom teacher with a round face and round glasses, gently held my hand. She brought me to stand in front of the class.

  "Children... children... I'd like to introduce our new friend." She clapped gently a few times.

  One by one tiny heads turned. Twenty pairs of eyes focused on me with various expressions. Some curious, some indifferent, some smiling. Even some gaping.

  Anyway, my appearance is indeed above average.

  Among all those faces, there's one I knew very well. Julian.

  He was holding a blue crayon. His hand stopped in the middle of a scribble with unclear shape. His eyes widened seeing me, and his mouth slightly open like a starving fish. I could see his thought process from here.

  Sera? Sera here? Sera in the same class as me?

  His lips started blooming into a wide smile. His hand raised, maybe to wave, but somehow he lowered it again. Then he busied himself tidying his sitting position, trying to look cool and relaxed, though the blue crayon still faithfully stuck to his hand.

  I furrowed my brow.

  Of all the possibilities, why must I be in the same class as him... Julian.

  Ms. Ida looked at me gently. "Sera, want to introduce yourself?"

  I nodded, then faced my classmates. "Hello... my name is Sera. Full name Seraphina Elveira."

  My voice quiet, but audible enough in the relatively quiet room.

  "I'm... five years old. I like... reading books. And... I live in a neighborhood near here."

  Silence.

  Then, that silence broke when a girl in the front row raised her hand. Her hair in two pigtails with big pink ribbons. Her eyes round and full of enthusiasm.

  "I'm Vina! I also like reading books!"

  From the back, a chubby boy with curly hair exclaimed, "What books? Picture books?"

  Vina turned quickly. "No! Storybooks!"

  "Storybooks are boring!" that boy replied. "Riding a bike is more fun!"

  "You can't read, can you?" Vina asked innocently.

  "I can! But I don't like it!"

  I watched that small argument with slight amusement. The atmosphere started getting rowdy, until finally Ms. Ida clapped gently.

  "Alright, alright. Calm down, children." She guided me to an empty seat. "Sera, sit here, okay."

  I stepped toward the seat Ms. Ida pointed out. However, my steps were held when I realized the only empty chair there was right beside Julian.

  No wonder he smiled so wide earlier. He must've already targeted this position.

  I sighed long in my heart, trying to hold back an annoyed huff that almost escaped.

  Julian looked at me with a face trying to look cool and calm. But the gleam in his eyes that was too enthusiastic made his effort totally fail. He even busied himself shifting his sitting position slightly to give me space, as if that tiny wooden chair was a throne he had to prepare for me.

  I sat down and put my rabbit-shaped bag beside the table.

  "Sera," Julian called, his voice half-whisper half-shout. "Sera, you're here? Same class as me?"

  I turned. "Yeah. Obviously, right?"

  Julian smiled widely. "Cool! That means we can keep playing together!"

  I looked down slightly, trying to smile, but in my heart I sighed quietly. Why must I be in the same class as him?

  Julian's too noisy, too chatty, and always attracts unnecessary attention. When I like everything calm.

  Oh God, strengthen this servant of yours...

  "Sera, look! I drew a dragon!" Julian exclaimed.

  I could only massage my forehead gently.

  This is going to be a very long year.