Night fell completely over Avero Academy. The soft light of the twin moons crept through the large window of Arian's room, bathing the surreal scene within in a silvery glow. On the luxurious silk bed, a blonde girl lay, her breathing more regular now, her presence like a quiet time bomb. On the cold floor, another blonde youth shivered under a thin blanket, failing to find a comfortable position.
Arian muttered softly, turning over for the umpteenth time. This oak floor seemed to have been specially designed by the ancestors to torture the backs of unfortunate nobles. Every small bump felt like a rock. The night wind slipping in from under the door felt like an icy draft targeting his neck.
"Brilliant," he whispered into the darkness. "In my own dorm, I feel like a war refugee. At least refugees probably have straw. I just have dust and a wounded dignity."
He tried to close his eyes, imagining himself on a warm, comfortable bed—his own bed—which was currently occupied by a blonde-haired interior terrorist. But every time he was about to drift off, the awareness of a pair of pink eyes possibly watching him from the darkness made him jolt awake. It was a deeply unpleasant feeling, like a mouse trying to sleep in a snake's nest.
"I'm not finished talking with you."
The voice, though weak, shattered the silence like broken glass. Arian shot up, his heart pounding. He saw the girl's silhouette move slightly on the bed, propping herself up on one elbow. Even in the dim light, her eyes seemed to glow with a faint pink light.
"Now?" Arian protested, his voice whining. "It's the middle of the night! My beauty sleep schedule has been severely disrupted! Do you know how important eight hours of sleep is for preventing premature wrinkles?"
The girl ignored his complaint completely. Her silence was a command, and her gaze was an interrogation. "What is your name?" she asked, her voice flat, no-nonsense.
Arian let out a long, dramatic sigh. "Arian. Arian Von Vallen. With 'Von' meaning 'from', and 'Vallen' meaning 'seemingly destined to never sleep soundly again'," he answered bitterly.
"Vallen," the girl repeated, the word sounding like a diagnosis. "The Ducal family. Famous for producing geniuses in magic, strategy, and the arts." She paused, and Arian could feel her gaze assessing him from head to toe. "You don't look like a genius."
The accusation, though it was the core of his disguise, still stung Arian's ego a little. He sat up straighter, defending his fabricated honor.
"Hey! That's insulting! I may not be a genius in... academic matters," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "But I have hidden talents! I can balance three spoons on my face at the same time—one on my nose, two on my ears. I can mimic the chirp of a Dawn Sparrow from the Northern Province with 94% accuracy. I... I can also open a bottle cap with my eyelid! That takes coordination, you know!"
He looked at the girl expectantly, as if those ridiculous achievements should have impressed her.
The girl was not impressed. Her gaze only grew sharper, more piercing. "Stop playing games," she said, her voice turning colder. "You gave me Lumina Herb Balm and silver-thread bandages. You know what they are. You know their value. A fool who can only balance spoons on his nose wouldn't have or recognize those items."
Arian felt a cold sweat begin to form on his temples. A crack in the mask. She saw a crack in the mask. The 'foolish' side of Arian began to panic, while the 'Kayze' side coldly warned him to be careful.
"I-I already told you!" he retorted, his voice a little higher than usual. "I read it in a book! Really! Emergency Medical Book for Clumsy Nobles, Third Edition! It had pictures! A big, green... and shiny picture of a Lumina Herb! I like shiny pictures!"
He laughed, a laugh that sounded strained and fake even to his own ears. He began to sweat more. The girl's gaze didn't waver. It was the gaze of a predator who knows its prey is lying.
Under that stare, the confident, foolish Arian shrank into a nervous, frightened Arian. For the first time, he felt truly intimidated not by magical power, but by sharp intelligence.
Then, the girl's next question changed the entire dynamic of the conversation, from an interrogation to something deeper.
"Why?" she asked, her voice softening to a serious whisper. "Why are you doing this? Why did you help me? A Duke's son like you, with your strange reputation, should have run and called the Guard Knights at the sight of blood. Not given me warm broth and worried about a carpet. What do you want from me?"
The question cut straight to the heart of the matter. It was a sincere question. She genuinely wanted to know. What was the motivation behind all these bizarre actions?
Arian fell silent. He couldn't say the truth—that behind the fool's mask was someone who despised the oppressive system and couldn't bear to let others suffer. An answer like that would be a death sentence for his identity. He needed another answer. An answer that fit the Arian persona, one that was foolish, selfish, yet could somehow explain his actions.
He looked away, staring at a pattern of dust on the floor as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. "You... you really want to know?" he mumbled.
"Yes."
"Promise you won't laugh at me?"
"I can't promise that," the girl replied flatly.
Arian sighed. "Fine. The reason... is because I'm lazy."
The girl raised an eyebrow. "Lazy?"
"Very lazy," Arian insisted, now looking at her with a mock-serious expression. "I helped you because, frankly, the other options were far more troublesome! You think I didn't consider them? Option A: Run and scream. The result? Guards arrive, interrogations, a commotion, and I probably wouldn't get any sleep all night. Too much effort."
He held up two fingers. "Option B: Let you die here. The result? I'd have a corpse in my room! A corpse! Do you have any idea how much paperwork I'd have to fill out to report an unidentified corpse on Ducal property? Form 3B, Appendix C, a written testimony... not to mention the questions from the ever-suspicious Guard Knights! And the smell! After a few days, the stench would get into my curtains! I'd have to move rooms! Pack my things! It's a nightmare!"
He concluded with the most logical tone he could muster. "So, you see? Keeping you alive, while a bit of a hassle right now, is the path of least resistance in the long run. This isn't kindness. It's high-level laziness efficiency. You are merely an investment for my future peace and quiet."
He leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms, looking very proud of his twisted logic.
The girl stared at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, for the first time, a small sound escaped her. It wasn't a laugh, more like a snort of amusement that she quickly suppressed. There was a strange glint in her eyes—perhaps amusement, perhaps she was truly starting to believe that the man before her was the strangest creature in the entire empire.
She decided to accept that answer for now. But she wasn't done. He had won the psychological battle. Now it was time for her to win the physical one—the battle for comfort.
"Arian Von Vallen," she said, her voice soft again, but this time there was an undeniable note of command in it. "I'm cold."
Arian blinked. "So? Open a window if you have a fever," he replied nonchalantly.
"Not a fever. Cold," she repeated patiently. She glanced at the thin sheet covering her body. "This blanket isn't enough." Then, her glowing eyes fixed on the thick, fluffy comforter Arian was using as a makeshift pillow and cover on the floor. "Your blanket over there... it looks very warm."
Arian's eyes widened in horror as the terrible realization dawned on him. "Oh, no. No. Forget it. There are limits! This is a Snow Goose Down Comforter! My only solace in my suffering on this cold floor!"
He hugged his comforter protectively, like a squirrel guarding its last nut in winter.
The girl said nothing. She didn't have to. She just stared at him. Her calm, unblinking pink gaze felt more threatening than a hundred magic circles. The look said, 'I can vaporize you and your carpet with a single thought. Give me the blanket.'
Arian held out. For three heroic seconds, he stared back, his lip trembling with defiance. He was Arian Von Vallen! Son of a Duke! He would not be intimidated!
Then he saw the girl's eyes glow just a little bit brighter.
He wilted.
With the most pathetic groan in the world, he got up. Dragging his feet like a prisoner on his way to the gallows, he walked to the bed and reluctantly draped the warm, luxurious Snow Goose Down Comforter over the girl. He even tucked it in a little at her sides.
"Thank you," the girl said. And Arian could have sworn he saw a tiny, barely perceptible smirk on her lips.
In total defeat, Arian returned to his cold corner. He took the thin sheet the girl had been using—which smelled faintly of blood and antiseptic—and wrapped it around himself, shivering.
He lay on the hard floor, staring at the ceiling of his own room, utterly defeated. He was supposed to be resting to prepare for his missions as Kayze, the feared shadow leader. Instead, he had been conquered, interrogated, and robbed of his blanket by a mysterious girl whose name he didn't even know.
Tonight was going to be a very, very long night. And he had a bad feeling that her domination had only just begun.