The corridor was still half-drowsing in blue morning light, shadows stretched long beneath the dorm wall sconces. Mira stepped out of her room, tying the sleeves of a soft cardigan around her waist, earbuds in hand, planning to greet the quiet with a long walk and maybe a few photographs if the light turned gold.
At the same time, a soft click echoed across the hallway.
Adrian Vale closed his door.
They both paused, caught in that strange moment of simultaneous exit, and Mira instinctively offered a polite nod, brushing a hand over her damp silver hair.
"Morning," she said.
He mirrored the nod, expression unreadable as ever. "Morning."
And then—she sneezed.
Just once, sharp and sudden, head turning to the side.
"Excuse me," she muttered quickly, sniffling, hand to her face.
They didn't speak again.
Together, they walked down the staircase, side by side but not quite together, footfalls echoing softly against the marble. At the bottom, Mira turned toward the back garden path, while Adrian continued toward the main courtyard. Neither looked back.
Just as she passed beneath the archway, Mira glanced back over her shoulder.
"See you later," she called.
Adrian didn't stop walking, but he lifted one hand slightly in reply.
They had a meeting in the afternoon—for the Rare Plant Club.
Still, Mira watched him go for a moment longer.
Then tucked her hands into her pockets, smiled faintly to herself, and kept walking.
❧
It was nearly 10 a.m., but no one had the energy to care.
Mira knocked on Camille's door first, letting herself in gently. Camille was sprawled on her bed, dramatically groaning like she had just survived a battlefield. "I might die," she mumbled.
"You say that every time," Mira said with a smile, already heading to the little kitchenette to boil water. She brewed lemon tea, warm and sharp with honey, and made a simple breakfast—toast, soft-boiled eggs, a few slices of fruit. Camille, grateful and still slightly dizzy, leaned against the wall, sipping tea with a soft sigh.
Not long after, the girls gathered in the lounge where the scent of baked goods filled the air. Naomi was there already, quietly efficient, preparing a hearty breakfast for Luca, who was curled up on the couch with a pillow over his head.
"You're an angel," Luca muttered, peeking out as Naomi set a plate beside him—steamed rice, eggs, soup. "And you made cake?"
Naomi nodded with a shy smile. "For everyone."
The group slowly came together. The air was warm, friendly, filled with slow conversation and laughter as hangovers began to fade. The cake was lemon and poppy seed—light and soft, like the morning itself.
Camille sat up straighter eventually and turned to Elara. "By the way, how's your club? Need any backup? We're fully mobilized now."
Elara gave a small, amused shake of her head. "Thanks, but I'll be okay. Just—if we have an event or a party, come. That's enough."
"I like how you say 'just a party' like it's not a trap," Camille said, smirking. Mira chuckled.
Then Luca, who had finally sat up, still rubbing his eyes, squinted. "Honestly, who is that Seraphina girl? All that drama and arrogance—what, is she the best student at the university?"
"Probably not," Mira said.
"The richest?" Luca shrugged. "Doesn't look it."
Camille grinned, resting her chin on her palm. "Compared to Elara? Please."
"She's just a year older," Luca added. "Nothing to brag about."
Mira nodded in agreement. "Anyway, if anything happens, just let us know. We've got you."
Meanwhile, Elias was sitting by the window, silently enjoying Naomi's pastries, looking quite pleased with the quiet morning. "By the way, Luca," he said between bites, "how did you make it back to your room last night?"
"Ohhh," Elara chimed in, eyes twinkling. "I didn't know you could speak Japanese and English at the same time. Very impressive."
Camille burst into laughter.
"And guess who carried him back?" Elara added. "Vincent. You know, tall, handsome, absurdly polite movie club leader."
The group let out a collective "Oooooh."
"We should throw more parties just for Luca," Camille teased.
"I feel deeply offended," Luca groaned, burying his face in a cushion again. "You all conspire against me."
Then he turned to Elias. "And you—where the hell were you last night? You disappeared like a ghost. We needed backup!"
Elias looked up calmly, sipping his tea. "I was helping Naomi. And avoiding karaoke trauma."
Laughter rippled around the room again. The morning rolled on—slow, cozy, full of crumbs and warmth and the kind of ease that only comes when new friends begin to feel like a group.
❧
The study room was quiet, the overhead lights casting a warm glow over the wooden tables. Mira was already seated, her laptop open in front of her, completely absorbed in whatever was on the screen. A strange expression crossed her face—pure joy, almost childlike excitement—as she gently touched the screen with both hands, as if hugging it.
Adrian walked in, his usual composed demeanor unaffected, but his amber eyes flickered slightly when he caught a glimpse of her screen. A macro photograph of a ladybug, its delicate details sharp and vibrant.
Mira turned at the sound of his approach, her smile still lingering—not for him, but for whatever thought she had been lost in before noticing him. She straightened, brushing back her hair, and gestured for him to sit.
"Alright," she started, her tone shifting into business mode as she clicked through her files. "Here's where we are and why we're here."
She explained that the portfolio of pictures was far too large to simply upload somewhere, and even if they could, it would be overwhelming to navigate. A more structured approach was needed.
"I've used Gigle Lens to generate names for each species," she continued, flipping through her neatly categorized folders. "I've roughly labeled each picture, but I'm no expert, and auto-identification can be wrong. That's where you come in."
She leaned slightly forward, focused and efficient. "We'll go through them one by one. You confirm the name, and if there's any key reference paper that links to it, we'll note that down. More importantly, if any of these species require caution—whether it's due to toxicity, fragility, or any special condition—you flag it."
She looked up at him, ready. Adrian didn't respond verbally, but there was a brief pause before he adjusted his sleeves and opened his notebook.
"Let's begin," she said, already clicking onto the first image.
They sat close together, Mira tilting her laptop slightly so Adrian could see the screen. At first, she handled the navigation, clicking through images while reading out the scientific names aloud. Some were manageable, but others—long Latin names with intricate spellings—slowed her down.
She hesitated, squinting at one particularly complex name, trying to type it correctly.
"Hand it over," Adrian said, his tone calm but firm. "I'll work on it. This will be faster."
Mira blinked, a little surprised. She had assumed he would just verify the information while she did the input, but instead, he took the laptop with a smooth motion, his fingers moving quickly across the keyboard.
Well, that's more efficient, she thought.
She had known Adrian was sharp when it came to research, but seeing him work this closely, she realized he carried an air of quiet confidence. He didn't hesitate. He scanned each name with ease, typing down keynotes without pausing to recall information—as if every single species, every reference document, was already indexed in his mind.
The silence stretched between them, only broken by the soft clatter of the keyboard. Mira glanced at the screen occasionally, noting how effortlessly he processed the data. It was impressive.
Then, out of nowhere, Adrian spoke.
"Every single detail is crystal clear," he said, his eyes still on the images. "Did it take a lot of time?"
Mira was caught off guard. It took her a moment to process his question—she hadn't expected him to ask about her work.
"Since flash can harm rare species, I have to shoot when natural light is at its peak." She paused before adding, "Plus, I used the stacking method—a technique that layers multiple shots together to capture every detail."
Adrian continued working, his focus unbroken. But there was a small shift in his expression. A subtle acknowledgment.
Then, without looking up, he asked, "How are you planning to use this information?"
"As you can see, we're planning a digital portfolio—website, mobile apps—but I don't think that will be enough. It'll attract experts and students who already have an interest, but if we want real public attention, we need more."
She paused, considering her words before continuing. "It has to feel friendly and engaging to normal people. Storytelling will help."
Adrian kept typing, but Mira leaned in slightly, her enthusiasm building. "We'll write a story. An adventure into the world of rare plants, where each plant becomes a unique character. A fairy will be the guide, and the group—kids, secondary school students, high schoolers, maybe with their parents—will shrink to the size of the fairy and follow along through the forest. At each scene, they'll encounter a new plant, learn its general information, and hear the fairy's warnings—don't get too close, don't touch, be careful of something specific."
Her words poured out, excitement layering into every sentence. Ideas stacked upon ideas, forming something vivid in her mind.
Then she caught herself. She had been talking non-stop. Mira blinked, realizing how deeply she had gotten into it. She glanced at Adrian, still working on the laptop. His expression hadn't changed much—but there was something there. A small shift, a flicker of interest.
"Do you think it will work?" she asked, suddenly more cautious.