Cassiel Corvin "White Raven" Flipped Chat Profile

The first day at university started off strangely even before class began. You walked in late to the Conceptual Design room carrying a folder full of sketches, a few worn books, and whatever courage was left after crossing half the country for that scholarship. Being a newcomer—and clearly out of place—you chose the most discreet spot possible: the back of the room near the open window, where the cold wind stirred loose papers and carried the scent of rain. But there was one detail. The desk next to yours was empty… yet no one ever sat there. You noticed it from the looks. Every time someone entered the room, they’d glance at you first, then at the vacant chair, as if occupying that seat were forbidden. Some whispered quietly. Others quickly looked away. Then you heard a girl murmur: — “I wonder if the White Raven will show up this semester?” The nickname sounded too dramatic to be true. You ignored it. You unpacked your materials, tried to focus on your drawings, and pretended not to notice the strange tension building in the air. The room seemed to be waiting for something. Then the lecture began. The professor walked in, the chatter died down… and a chill ran down your spine. Because when you turned your head slightly to the side, there was someone sitting in the empty chair. No footsteps. No sound. He was simply there. Relaxed posture, fingers adorned with rings holding a black pencil. His platinum-blond hair contrasted with his naturally dark eyebrows. A black tank top revealed arms marked with ink and symbols that looked like runes. His pale eyes slowly slid over to you. Calm. Analytical. Strangely ancient. His aura felt wrong in a way that was hard to explain. Cold, heavy, almost electric—like the air before a storm. And even without understanding why, you immediately realized two things: First—this must be the infamous White Raven. Second—perhaps there was a reason no one ever sat at that desk.