The library of Veloria Academy was a cathedral of silence at that hour. It was nearly eleven, the chandeliers dimmed to a soft glow, their light paling beside the wash of moonlight that streamed through the towering windows. Dust hung suspended in the beams like faint silver motes, stirred only when the air shifted.
Arisa Sato sat at one of the long oak tables near the window, posture immaculate despite the lateness of the hour. Her blazer lay folded neatly beside her notes, each page aligned with precision. The sharp nib of her fountain pen scratched faintly against paper, the sound oddly loud in the cavernous stillness.
She had been here since dinner, though the hours had slipped without her noticing. The gala the night before still lingered in her thoughts: the weight of her father's grip on her arm, his cold reminder that her every step was the family's reputation. And that man—Renji Ather. The way he had stepped in, calm as if the world belonged to him, shifting the atmosphere without raising his voice. She had not forgotten it.
Her hand tightened briefly around the pen.
Focus, Arisa. Don't let your mind wander. Not here, not now.
She adjusted her glasses, though they were unnecessary—her vision was sharp. The habit steadied her. Her eyes scanned the lines of text again, lips moving soundlessly with the words. The library smelled of parchment and old wood, a grounding reminder that here, at least, there were no eyes judging her.
And yet, even here, she felt the pressure. The tick of the great clock echoed down the aisles, every chime another reminder of time passing too fast. She straightened her notes, brushed an invisible crease from her skirt, and forced her mind back to the case law in front of her.
Her gaze drifted, despite herself, toward the tall doors at the end of the hall. They remained closed, silent, but she could not shake the feeling that she was waiting—for something, or someone.
She drew in a slow breath, pen steady in her hand, and bent once more over her work.
The library was so silent that the sudden creak of the door echoed like thunder.
Arisa's pen stilled. Her head lifted, eyes narrowing toward the entrance. The heavy wooden doors eased shut again, and the sound of measured footsteps crossed the marble floor.
Out of the shadows, he emerged.
Renji Ather.
He wore no glasses tonight. The absence made his features sharper, the angles of his jaw more pronounced, his expression unveiled. His shirt collar was open, vest unbuttoned, his black hair falling in an artful mess that caught faint streaks of moonlight.
He looked less like a lecturer and more like someone who had stepped from another world—untamed, and yet refined.
Arisa's hand tightened on her pen before she set it down deliberately. Her voice was low, cool, meant to reassert control.
"You shouldn't be here."
Renji's pace never faltered. He stopped at the far end of her table, eyes catching hers, silver-grey shining clear under the light of the moon through the window.
"Neither should you," he said simply, his tone calm but edged with quiet amusement.
Arisa's chest tightened before she masked it, straightening in her seat. But her gaze betrayed her for a heartbeat, lingering. The moonlight sharpened the silver in his eyes until they seemed to burn.
Without the glasses… Her inner thought came unbidden. They're even more striking. Too striking.
She forced her chin higher, ice restored to her expression, though her pulse betrayed her calm.
The silence thickened again, broken only by the echo of the clock above, as if the library itself held its breath.
The silence between them stretched until it became unbearable. Then, without a word, Renji moved.
He stepped past her table, unhurried, his footsteps echoing against the marble floor. Arisa's breath caught when he paused at the mouth of the shelves. A narrow aisle opened between towering bookcases, shadows clinging where the chandeliers failed to reach.
"Come," he said softly, though it wasn't a command.
Against her better judgment, her body obeyed. She rose, smoothing her skirt, and followed him.
The air was cooler there, the smell of paper and dust thick in her nose. Moonlight filtered in faint beams through high windows, cutting across the rows of spines. Renji stopped at the corner, his hand braced against the shelf above her shoulder as she halted instinctively, back pressed lightly to the wood.
"You shouldn't—"
The words faltered as his face neared hers. His hand brushed a strand of her black hair aside, his fingers grazing her cheek. His eyes—unhidden, silver-grey bright with moonlight—held her still.
Her pulse raced.
"Why are you here, Miss Sato?" His voice was quiet, steady, but the air between them burned.
She parted her lips, but no sound came. The silence cracked instead with a different answer: his mouth brushing hers.
It was a kiss at first hesitant, light as breath. Then it deepened, pulling her closer, the world narrowing until there was only the press of lips, the heat of his nearness, the thrum in her chest.
Her eyes widened, panic rushing in. She pressed both hands against his chest, breaking the kiss abruptly. Her breath came fast, cheeks flushed with heat she couldn't disguise.
Renji leaned back slightly, watching her with a faint smirk, though his eyes gleamed sharp.
"The Ice Queen…" he murmured. "She can melt."
Arisa turned her face away, cold mask sliding back into place. But her trembling hands betrayed her.