Chapter 278
The corridor inside the dormitory was quiet and dignified, lined with thick carpet that muffled every footstep.
Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow, standing in stark contrast to the unrest in his chest.
Theo paid no attention to the almost unsettling silence.
His mind was fixed on a single destination.
His room.
He reached the door to his room, crafted from high-quality dark wood, and without performing his usual ritual of checking the surroundings, he immediately inserted the key and opened it.
His movements were impulsive, driven by an urgent need to see, to confirm, to face the consequences of his decision.
He did not glance left or right to see whether other dorm residents were passing by, or whether any attendants were on duty.
He did not even pause to consider the possibility that his room might not be exactly as he had left it that morning.
The door opened with a soft click, and Theo stepped inside at once, reflexively closing it behind him.
His room—a fairly spacious space with cluttered bookshelves, a study desk covered in scribbled papers, and a simple bed—spread out before his eyes.
Yet he ignored all of those details.
His thoughts went straight to one crucial fact.
Aldraya had access to this place.
Some time ago, after Aldraya decided to stay more frequently in this dormitory for reasons of security or proximity, Theo had trusted her enough to give her a spare key to his room.
It was an act of trust, intended as a practical convenience, so that Aldraya could enter to retrieve any belongings she might have left behind after a visit, or simply have an additional place of refuge if needed.
Handing over that key was a symbol, a line he had crossed by inviting Aldraya deeper into his private space.
'She still chose to come back—pushing past her own disappointment and inner turmoil.'
The heavy wooden door closed softly behind him, isolating Theo from the silent corridor outside.
He managed to take only one step into the darkness of his own room.
Then his entire body froze.
The breath that had been ragged from his hurried journey and anxiety suddenly caught in his throat.
His mouth parted slightly, yet no sound emerged.
A complete stillness seized him, extinguishing every instinct to move or speak.
His eyes, still adjusting to the dim light filtering in from the window, locked in place.
Locked onto a sight that was both touching and piercing.
In the most personal part of his room, atop the bed where he usually rested and shed every mask for the next day, sat a silhouette that was deeply familiar yet felt strangely foreign tonight.
A girl with long white hair, like moonlight spilling into the darkness of the room.
Aldraya.
She leaned back lightly with both legs extended, maintaining a disciplined sitting posture.
The worn-covered book lay open on her lap, placed neatly between her thighs, perfectly positioned for reading.
The small reading lamp beside the bed—likely turned on by her—cast a golden glow, focusing a circle of light directly onto the pages of the book and her pale profile.
She was reading.
Not merely skimming, but reading with extraordinary attentiveness.
Every movement she made signaled total concentration.
Her slender index finger moved slowly along the lines of text, her ruby eyes sweeping across the page with a steady, deliberate rhythm.
Her facial expression, as always, was flat and unreadable, like the surface of a frozen lake.
There were no signs of tears, anger, or even dramatic sorrow.
Only a diligence that felt almost mechanical, a complete immersion into the world of printed words, as if she were trying to empty her own mind by filling it to the brim with the thoughts of others.
She was Aldraya Kansh Que.
The figure sitting calmly on the bed was not an illusion, nor a projection born of Theo's guilt.
Her presence was real, filling a space that was usually occupied only by his solitude.
Although waves of disappointment must have eroded her from within after the rejection at the teachers' cafeteria, it had not crippled her iron discipline or her sense of responsibility as a Human Change.
Before finally arriving in Theo's room, even in her shaken emotional state, Aldraya had still taken the time to send a transmission to him.
The message was brief and efficient, informing him only that all her academic tasks had been completed.
Those tasks were no ordinary assignments.
As a Human Change—an entity with extraordinary adaptive and learning capabilities—Aldraya faced a specially designed and highly demanding curriculum.
Yet her excellence shone brightest amid disappointment.
She did not merely complete every task assigned to her, but did so with a level of perfection that left her teachers speechless.
It should be remembered that the teachers in her class were once her peers, fellow educators who fully understood the depth of knowledge and the difficulty of the material.
They were not easily impressed.
Yet Aldraya's performance—drawing out potential beyond normal limits and producing work that earned scores exceeding one hundred—truly left them in awe.
That brilliance, displayed amid inner turmoil, was a silent statement of her resilience.
Based on that outstanding achievement and the acknowledgment of her teachers, Aldraya then requested permission to return early.
The request was not an escape, but a right she claimed through pure meritocracy.
Since all her obligations had been fulfilled flawlessly, even beyond expectations, there was no reason to keep her longer in an academic environment that may have felt increasingly suffocating at that moment.
The permission was granted, perhaps accompanied by looks of respect and faint admiration from her former colleagues, who witnessed how their once-cold fellow teacher remained the best under any circumstances.
And now, the result of all that stood before Theo.
'She is nearly perfect in her unremarkableness.
Everything is neutral, safe, and forgettable.
Except for one thing—her white hair, the only part that failed to obey her attempt to remain hidden.'
Theo's gaze, slowly adjusting to the dim light, began to capture every detail of the figure sitting on his bed.
The clothes Aldraya wore tonight were simple, yet to Theo's attentive eyes, every fold of fabric seemed to speak.
She wore a thin, bone-white sweater, perhaps made of fine knit or linen, deliberately chosen in an oversized fit.
The neutral color resembled a blank canvas, adorned only with faint patterns of cool beige lines along certain edges, lending subtle depth without seeking attention.
The cut of the garment fell naturally over her slender shoulders, hanging slightly longer than her tall, lean proportions.
The impression it gave was not of a carefully curated outfit, but rather something casually "borrowed" from someone else's wardrobe—a choice guided more by comfort and familiarity than by appearance.
The smooth texture of the sweater, under the golden light of the reading lamp, formed a gentle contrast with Aldraya's skin.
Her porcelain-white skin, supple and nearly untouched by time or worldly concern, seemed to softly reflect the light.
That contrast was not meant to highlight curves or physical allure explicitly.
On the contrary, the loose and neutral clothing seemed intent on concealing, on creating a minimalist and tranquil silhouette, directing all attention toward her contemplative presence rather than her outward appearance.
To be continued…