SSS Class Awakening: I Can Forge My Beast Soul Avatars
Chapter 16: A Simple Sketch

Chapter 16: A Simple Sketch

The man adjusted his seat into a comfortable position, making it abundantly clear to Atlas just how long this conversation was going to drag out.

"Sir, I really don’t want to obstruct your work," Atlas said with a quick, polite smile. "I can simply tell you what I want, you take my measurements, and we’ll be on our way. That way everyone’s happy, and less time is wasted."

"No, no, no! You do not rush art, my boy," the man responded, waving his index finger back and forth at Atlas. "A true craftsman does not rush his mind to be creative. You must understand that true art takes time."

Atlas glanced over at Seraphine for help, making a subtle pushing gesture with his hand to urge her to back him up. "A little help here?" he whispered.

Seraphine simply shrugged, taking a calm sip of her tea. "The man is right — you don’t rush art. Besides, it’s a good way to unwind after today. When was the last time you sat down calmly and enjoyed a good cup of tea?"

’Well, I guess there’s absolutely nothing I can do about this...’ Atlas thought, staring blankly at her.

Resigning himself to his fate, he settled back into his chair, though he still hadn’t touched his teacup.

"So tell me, what is your name and where are you from?" the man asked, taking a leisurely sip. "And please, pour yourself some tea while you’re at it."

"Is that really necessary?" Atlas groaned.

"A hundred percent. But if it makes you feel any better, my name is Lucas Da-Vinci," Lucas said, offering a warm smile to ease his guest’s tension.

’It doesn’t make me feel better, but I’ll answer anyway.’

"My name is Atlas, and where I’m from doesn’t really matter," Atlas pleaded. "Now, please, can we get to the point?"

"Well, if you insist. Tell me: what do you want out of a uniform?" Lucas asked, crossing his right leg over his left.

"Something simple. Not flashy, but not dull either. It shouldn’t stand out, but it should clearly show that I’m a student," Atlas explained vaguely, hoping Lucas could work with that.

Lucas stared at him with a raised eyebrow, looking thoroughly bewildered.

"That doesn’t tell me much—or rather, anything—about what you want, but hold that thought." He raised a finger, rose from his seat, and disappeared into the back of the shop.

"What’s going on?" Atlas asked, turning to Seraphine in confusion.

Seraphine just hummed softly with her lips pressed together, raising her shoulder again while sipping her tea as if it had been brewed in heaven. "I don’t know," she murmured.

Moments later, Lucas returned holding a sketchbook and a pencil. He sat back down, crossed his legs as before, and rested the pad flat against his knee.

"I will draw something, and I want you to tell me if it’s what you’re looking for or not," he said casually.

Atlas nodded. "Alright."

Lucas immediately got to work, sketching fluently without any further description, relying entirely on the vague keywords Atlas had given him.

’This guy is doing way too much,’ Atlas thought. ’But I suppose I’ll just go with the flow so we can finish up quickly.’

Half an hour later, Lucas was done with his sketch—and Seraphine was finally done with her tea.

"Alright, take a look and tell me what you think."

"Hmm, okay," Atlas said, leaning in.

Lucas turned the sketchbook around, leaving the young man completely speechless. Atlas stared in awe at the page.

’Damn. This guy is incredible! He really knows his craft.’

The sketch depicted a deep navy-blue blazer with a sharp, tailored silhouette. It featured black lapels and black cuffs, both accented with fine gold piping.

The same gold trim ran down the outer edges of the lapels and the front closure. Mounted on the left breast was a silver, shield-shaped crest featuring a stylized head of a feline predator.

The jacket had a single visible button near the hem and a sleek black pocket-square slot on the chest.

Underneath was a crisp, white button-up dress shirt with a standard collar, its sleeves extending slightly past the blazer’s dark cuffs.

The overall look was formal, structured, and immaculate—balancing navy, black, gold, and white with the academy crest as its proud focal point.

"This is really good! It’s simple and neat—exactly what I wanted," Atlas said, unable to take his eyes off the drawing.

"It would have been even better if you had let me connect with you first," Lucas noted with a chuckle, "but nonetheless, I’m glad you like it. Now, all that’s left are the measurements and I can get to work."

He closed the sketchpad, set it on the counter, and gestured toward the rear room. "Follow me."

Atlas stood up, shot a quick glance at Seraphine, and received yet another silent shrug in return.

’She seriously needs to stop doing that...!’

The adjacent room was straightforward: a long, empty space lined with full-length mirrors and various tailoring tools.

Lucas grabbed a cloth measuring tape, a notepad, and a pen from a nearby drawer.

"Stand right there," he instructed, pointing to a raised wooden platform.

Lucas approached and began taking detailed measurements, taking careful note of every angle and dimension.

"Alright, all done," Lucas concluded, jotting down a final figure. "You can expect the uniform to be finished by Friday, or Saturday at the absolute latest if something comes up."

’That’s actually pretty fast.’Atlas nodded politely. "Thank you."

"Oh, think nothing of it. Though it really would have been more inspiring if you’d let me get to know you a bit. I get the feeling you have a story to tell—an interesting one at that. To truly craft something meaningful, a master must understand the spirit of what he’s dressing. That is the essence of true craftsmanship."

"Sorry about that," Atlas replied as they walked back out into the front showroom. "I’m just not very used to opening up to people."

"It’s quite alright. By the way, you never mentioned your family name. Is it top secret or something?"

"I don’t have one, to be honest," Atlas answered quietly. "I lost it after my parents passed away."

"So you’re an orphan? Wait... are you one of the kids from the local orphanage?"

Atlas nodded as he stepped through the archway ahead of Lucas.

"I heard the academy was recruiting a few students from there, but I had no idea they’d already arrived—"

"Wait... what? The trash is an orphan? Well, that explains a lot."

A harsh, condescending voice boomed across the room.

’I recall that voice!’ Atlas’s eyes narrowed as he stepped out into the showroom, his hands clenching into tight fists at his sides.

Standing in the middle of the clean, polished floor was one of the two arrogant lackeys who had been trailing Gerald earlier at the training grounds.

He was sprawled casually over the armrest of the second leather armchair, slumping his weight unceremoniously right next to Seraphine.

His arm was stretched along the back of her chair in a sleazy attempt to trap her, his fingers dangerously close to her shoulder.

Seraphine sat stiff as a board, her knuckles white around her empty teacup, her jaw tight with suppressed fury and discomfort.

Standing near the counter, casually flipping through a bolt of midnight-blue silk, was a second Class 5D student—the other follower from Gerald’s entourage.

"What are you doing here?" Atlas demanded, taking a direct step forward. His voice dropped to a low, dangerous growl that cut through the cozy warmth of the shop.

The student leaning over Seraphine let out a loud, mocking laugh, looking up with sneering eyes. "Oh, look! The charity case speaks! We came to pick up our customized dueling cloaks for next week’s match, but who would’ve thought we’d bump into Class 5E’s star trash getting fitted for a hand-me-down?"

He leaned closer to Seraphine, his tone dropping into a condescending mock-whisper. "Seriously, Seraphine? Is this the best your class could muster to lead you into battle? A nameless orphan off the streets? No wonder you guys are rotting at the bottom of the ranks."

Seraphine’s eyes flashed with icy fury, but before she could snap, Atlas’s shadow fell over the chair.

Without saying a single word, Atlas reached out, grabbed the guy’s wrist, and yanked his arm cleanly off the back of Seraphine’s chair.

The grip was shockingly firm, born from years of hard manual labor at the orphanage, and the Class 5D student winced as Atlas forced his hand away.

"Get your arm off her," Atlas said smoothly, stepping directly between the chair and the intruder. "And take your mouth outside before you ruin the smell of the tea."

"Why, you little—!" The student scrambled to his feet, his hand instinctively flying toward the summoning crest on his belt.

The other student by the silk counter immediately straightened up, his eyes flaring with aggressive energy.

"Hold on! Stop right there! Not in my shop!" Lucas’s voice boomed through the room with unexpected, absolute authority.

The energetic tailor stepped out from the back corridor, his cheerful demeanor completely replaced by an intimidating, sharp glare. He raised his measuring tape like an officer holding a baton.

"This is the House of Wonders, not a dueling arena!" Lucas barked, pointing a stern finger at the two Class 5D students.

"You will show respect under my roof, or I will personally contact the Welfare Board and have your tailoring privileges revoked for the rest of the term. Do I make myself clear?"

The student who had insulted Atlas gritted his teeth, glaring daggers at Atlas’s chest before reluctantly pulling his hand away from his belt.

"Tch. You got lucky, orphan. Enjoy wearing that uniform next week—it’s going to make a great rag when we wipe the floor with you."

He shoved past Atlas toward the counter, grabbing a sealed leather package waiting for them on the desk.

"Let’s go. It stinks like poverty in here anyway."

The two lackeys sneered at Seraphine one last time before shoving through the front door, the brass bell chiming aggressively as they slammed it shut behind them.

Silence settled over the shop.

Atlas let out a slow, steady breath, rolling his shoulders to dispel the adrenaline. He turned around toward Seraphine, offering her an open hand. "You alright?"

Seraphine looked at his outstretched hand for a long second before taking a breath, regaining her composure, and standing up on her own.

"I was fine," she murmured quietly, though the faint tension in her shoulders finally relaxed. She looked up at him, her dark eyes searching his face. "You shouldn’t let them bait you so easily. They were just trying to get a reaction out of you."

"Maybe," Atlas said, turning back toward Lucas. "But guys like that don’t stop unless you draw a clear line."

Lucas sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose beneath his spectacles as he shook his head. "Class 5D... always so loud, always so arrogant. Ignore them, my boy. A sharp uniform speaks louder than empty barking."

He picked up the sketch ledger from the counter and tapped it against his hand. "Your measurements are locked in, Atlas. I’ll personally ensure your uniform is crafted with the highest care. Come back Friday afternoon—it will be waiting for you."

"Thank you, Master Lucas. For everything," Atlas said, giving a respectful bow.

"Don’t mention it. Now, go on and handle your dorm arrangements. And remember..." Lucas offered a warm, encouraging smile.

"A craftsman can tell a lot about a person’s spirit. Don’t let those snobs make you feel small. You have the eyes of someone who knows how to survive."

Atlas nodded silently.

He and Seraphine slipped their shoes back on at the door mat and stepped out into the crisp mountain air of the Welfare and Services Block.

The afternoon sun was beginning to dip, casting long, golden shadows across the bustling cobblestone street.

The smell of fresh bread from the nearby bakery drifted past them again, but this time, Atlas’s mind was sharp and focused.

As they walked side by side toward the cable car station, Seraphine finally spoke up, her voice surprisingly soft over the noise of the crowd.

"Atlas?"

"Yeah?"

"Where do we go from here? If we’re going to win next week... you really need a plan. And a second fighter."

Atlas looked out over the sprawling academy grounds stretching beneath the mountain ridge.

"First, I get a roof over my head," Atlas replied, a small, resolute smirk touching his lips. "Then, we start assembling our team."