"Ah! There you are. I've finally found you."
A voice cut through our conversation, and both Kevin and I turned to its source.
"I've been searching for you for quite some time, Edward Brightwill."
The boy who approached had striking blue hair and sharp, confident eyes to match. His face was annoyingly handsome—one of those types you'd see smiling on a magazine cover or leading a recruitment ad for some elite guild. His physique was well-built, not overly muscular, but not lean either. The kind of body that suggested, I train, but I don't break a sweat doing it.
He walked toward me with a smug smile tugging at his lips, the kind you only ever see on someone who knows they're a problem.
And trouble?
Yeah. It tends to follow wherever this kind of guy shows up.
"Man, finding you is more difficult than tracking down a lost cat," the boy huffed, tossing his hands up as he finally stood in front of our table. "I searched all over the academy grounds, went to your dorm, even asked your sister—but she couldn't reach you either. She said you vanished from the hospital without notice and weren't picking up any of her calls."
I didn't respond immediately. I'd silenced all personal calls and turned off notifications; they were too bothersome to deal with.
"So what do you want?" I asked, keeping my tone flat.
"Nothing, man! Can't a guy just stop by for a friendly chat?" he said, slipping into the seat beside Kevin like it was his rightful place, an unwarranted familiarity that grated on my nerves.
I raised a brow. "I don't think so. A guy like you only moves when there's profit... or pretty girls involved."
He laughed, unbothered, leaning back in his chair as if settling in for a long stay. "Come on, don't judge people you barely know. Haven't you heard the phrase—'don't judge a bra by its cover'? Gotta put your hand inside and discover what's underneath!"
Kevin choked on his drink beside me, sputtering.
I didn't. I simply stared. The absurdity of it was almost impressive.
"…That's not how the phrase goes," I muttered.
"Eh, close enough," he shrugged, waving a dismissive hand.
"So what do you wanna chat about, Elijah Aurelian?" I asked, narrowing my eyes slightly, using his full name as a subtle pushback.
Elijah leaned back in his seat, stretching like he owned the place. "Elijah is fine. No need for full names between friends."
"We're not friends," I reminded him, my voice flat.
"Semantics," he waved off, utterly unfazed. "Anyway, nothing big, really. Just need your help with something."
That alone was enough to make my stomach sink a little. Experience had taught me that "nothing big" from people like Elijah usually translated to "massive headache." "…And what exactly might that be?"
"Oh, simple," he said with a bright, innocent smile that didn't reach his sharp eyes. "I need you to seduce Selene."
There was a pause.
A very long pause. The kind where the air seemed to thicken.
"What the—" I blinked, certain I'd misheard.
Kevin, meanwhile, had managed to collect himself only to promptly spit out his drink again, a loud splutter echoing through the relatively quiet canteen.
"You heard me," Elijah said, dead serious, nodding like it was the most normal request in the world. "I need you to seduce her. Real slow-burn stuff, y'know? Subtle glances. Lingering tension. Forbidden allure." He even mimed a dramatic glance.
"…Are you high?" I asked flatly.
"No, but I am desperate." His sincerity was almost believable. Almost.
"And why the fuck should I do that? More importantly, why me?" I stared at him like he'd grown a second head. Which, honestly, wouldn't have surprised me with the kind of people I was increasingly encountering.
Elijah just grinned, completely unfazed. "Ah, now we're getting to the heart of it."
He leaned in dramatically, lowering his voice like he was about to share a state secret, though he probably just wanted to be obnoxious. "Well, my dear friend—if I may call you that—let me tell you. I have an innate trait. Heaven's Institution."
"…That sounds like either a cult or a really shady bank."
He ignored me, his grin widening. "It gives me instinctual hints about the right people. Right places. Like divine gut feelings. If it points me toward someone, I know they're the person to bet on."
I raised an eyebrow. "So you tracked me down across half the damn campus, bothering my sister in the process, because your 'heavenly hunch' said I'm your best shot at seducing Selene?"
"Exactly!" he beamed, as if he'd just delivered a groundbreaking scientific discovery.
"…Let's say, hypothetically, that I don't want to be involved in whatever romantic comedy subplot you're living in. What makes you think I'll agree?" My voice held a challenge, but also a morbid curiosity.
Elijah placed a hand over his heart, a picture of manufactured sincerity. "Because, my soon-to-be best friend, once you hear my tragic tale of love and betrayal, you'll be so moved—so emotionally compromised—you'll help me without even realizing it."
Kevin muttered under his breath, audible enough for us to hear, "Gods save us, he's doing the speech again."
Elijah leaned back, stretching dramatically, seemingly unbothered by Kevin's exasperation. "So the story starts with our little friend circle: me, Leon, Selene, Grace, and Damien. We weren't exactly tight at first—just a bunch of curious first-years thrown together by fate and a shared hatred for group projects. But over time, something… real formed."
I blinked. "You're telling me a high school drama, aren't you."
"Shh. Let me cook." Elijah held up a finger, mock-stern. "Now, Leon—since childhood—had a big, fat crush on Selene. Like, head-over-heels, stars-in-his-eyes, write-bad-poetry kind of crush."
Kevin sighed from the side, a long, suffering sound. "Not this again."
"But Selene?" Elijah continued, oblivious. "She's been as indifferent as a brick wall. Polite, distant, unreadable. You know how she is."
I already regretted letting him sit down. This was going to be a long lunch.
"But then," Elijah said, lowering his voice like he was revealing state secrets, leaning closer to emphasize the 'twist', "Grace—you remember her, sweet, kind, always smiling? Yeah. She fell for Leon."
I stared. "So far this sounds like a love triangle you watched unfold with popcorn."
"It gets worse!" Elijah threw his hands up, exasperated. "Leon, in all his dense glory, has no idea Grace likes him. He's still laser-focused on Selene. Meanwhile, Grace is heartbroken, and I'm stuck watching it all play out like I'm trapped in a soap opera I didn't sign up for."
"…Where exactly is the tragic part for you?" I asked flatly, unwilling to play along with his theatrics.
Kevin groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Please don't ask that. It only encourages him."
Elijah, of course, ignored Kevin. He placed a dramatic hand over his heart, feigning profound sorrow. "Because, my brother… I have a crush on Grace."
I blinked. Twice. My brain processed the layers of absurdity.
"…Okay, let this straight. Leon likes Selene. Grace likes Leon. You like Grace. So if Leon and Selene get together, Grace gets her heart broken, and you swoop in. Logical, if not romantic." My assessment was cold, pragmatic.
Elijah shook his head solemnly. "No. That's the thing. I want Grace and Leon to end up together."
There was a pause.
A heavy, disbelieving silence.
I stared at him. Kevin stared at him. The air grew still with our collective bewilderment.
"You… what?" Kevin finally managed, his voice a strained whisper.
"I know, I know," Elijah said quickly, holding up his hands. "But it's not like that! Don't get me wrong—I'm not one of those weirdos who gets excited watching their crush fall for someone else. I just… I don't want her to be sad. Even if it means she doesn't end up with me." He sounded genuinely earnest, which was unsettling coming from him.
Kevin muttered, "You're a masochist."
"No, I'm a romantic!" Elijah protested, a pained look on his face.
I sighed, rubbing my temples. "So where does Selene and me seducing her come into this?"
Elijah grinned, the self-serving sparkle returning to his eyes. "Simple. If you, my suspiciously good-looking friend, charm Selene and get her to give up on Leon, Leon might finally notice Grace's feelings. The love triangle resolves. Everyone wins."
"…Except you."
Elijah shrugged, a philosophical sigh escaping him. "That's the tragic part."
I leaned back, eyes half-lidded, and let out a slow breath.
"Yep. I've heard enough," I said flatly. "Tragic. Moving. Truly Oscar-worthy."
Elijah beamed. "So you'll help?"
"No." I stood from my seat, brushing imaginary dust off my coat. "I have more important things to do—like anything else. So find someone else to play matchmaker. I'm not interested."
Kevin chuckled quietly as I turned to leave.
But of course, Elijah couldn't let me go without one last dramatic line.
"Well, that's the thing, buddy." He grinned like a prophet on the verge of revelation.
"My intuition has never been wrong. Sooner or later… you'll find yourself right in the middle of all this."
He raised his hands and attempted what I assume was meant to be an evil laugh.
"Heehee—hahaha—haa—cough! cough! Agh—fuck!"
Kevin didn't even look up. "Told you to stop trying that."
"Kevin, my friend—water! I require water!"
Soon after, I left the canteen with my hands in my pockets, completely unbothered by Elijah's nonsense. My steps were purposeful, my mind already drifting back to the real problems.
I didn't come here to get wrapped up in someone's soap opera. I came here looking for a lead—something, anything—on what to do about the drugs.
And I still had nothing.
Time passed. The day slipped by.
And just like that, another pointless, meandering hour folded into the next—with no plan, no clue, no progress.The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the academy grounds in hues of orange and purple, a beautiful end to a truly unproductive day. The quiet of my dorm room settled around me as the last echoes of Sunday faded, replaced only by the persistent hum of my own unanswered questions. Sleep offered little escape, just a brief respite before the same problems awaited.
Then Monday arrived.
Classes resumed as usual. I attended, like always—nothing interesting. Nothing new. The periods crawled by one after another, and before long, lunch break hit.
But instead of heading to the canteen like everyone else, I found myself on the rooftop of the academy building.
There was food beside me, untouched. A cigarette between my lips, lit only out of habit, the smoke curling lazily into the crisp air.
I wasn't here for the view.
Right now, I was examining a card—the one I'd found in the wallet of the middleman. Alongside some crumpled cash, it was the only thing remotely useful.
It wasn't a business card or an ID. It felt more like a key. A pass. A membership card. Its surface was smooth, cool against my fingertips, devoid of any discernible markings beyond a subtle, almost invisible, etched symbol that I couldn't quite decipher.
Black market.
That was the only conclusion I could draw. The kind of place where rules bent, where anything could be bought or sold, especially things like combat-grade stimulants.
And it was my only lead.
But the question was—what exactly was I supposed to do with it? It's not like I could just waltz into the black market and sell their own products back to them.
"Man, check this stuff out! Full bag—pure, uncut. Want it? Let's make a deal."
"Oho~ what a good product, huh? Of course it is. We made it."
Yeah. No. Definitely not going to work.
That was a one-way ticket to ending up in another dumpster.
So what could I do? Where did this card fit into the chaotic puzzle of my life?
I was still turning that over in my mind, the quiet hum of the city below a distant backdrop to my thoughts, when I heard a soft thud—the door to the rooftop clicking open.
My eyes shifted lazily, just enough to catch the movement.
A girl stepped out.
Graceful, deliberate… the kind of presence that draws attention even in a crowd, commanding a certain respect without effort. The sunlight danced on her hair like it had been waiting for her, illuminating strands that shimmered like spun moonlight.
Our eyes met. Her gaze sharpened, immediately cutting through the haze of my thoughts, focusing on the cigarette.
"What are you doing here?"
"And more importantly, why are you smoking?"
Her voice was sharp. Cold. Familiar. A crisp, almost accusatory tone that cut through my daze.
I blinked once… then gave her a slow, blank look, letting the smoke drift from my lips.
Yep.
That's Selene Mooncrest.