Earlier that day, the cathedral doors had just opened at the end of the assembly when a subtle shift ran through the crowd,a quiet ripple of recognition that moved like a cold breeze across the student body. Heads turned, whispers rose, and the air seemed to grow heavier with expectation. Power at St. Aurelia wasn't just about money; it was about presence.
That was when he stepped inside. Adrien Beaumont.
Tall, composed, and carrying himself with the effortless poise that came from generations of unshakable privilege, Adrien didn't just walk, he glided. His dark-blonde hair was swept neatly back, catching the cathedral's filtered light in a way that made it look like spun silk. His hazel eyes scanned the hall with a calm, surgical precision, taking in every face and every shadow while revealing absolutely nothing of his own thoughts. He was a spear wrapped in velvet, radiating a silent authority that didn't need to raise its voice to be heard.
Students murmured in hushed, reverent tones as he passed.
"That's the Beaumont heir…"
"He just came back from Lyon. He was studying with the grandmasters."
"Dmitri's best friend. Look at them."
Dmitri reached him first. The two of them stood in the center of the aisle, a striking contrast of light and shadow. Their handshake shifted into a brief shoulder bump, familiar, warm in a restrained way, the boys' greetings raised under the same crushing expectations. Adrien offered a small, rare smile. It always surprised the student body how these two remained friends despite their families' historic rivalry. Power recognized power, and at St. Aurelia, they were the twin pillars of the social hierarchy.
But then Adrien's gaze drifted through the hall. It moved past the crowd of chattering students, past the cluster of nervous first-years, and even past Emmeline Schuyler, who straightened her back instinctively when she saw him look her way. Then, his gaze settled softly on me, Isabelle Duval.
Something flickered in his expression. It was subtle,a slight tightening of the eyes, a momentary pause in his breath. Recognition.
Memory.
A ghost of a moment from the charity night... the girl with the red hair and the violin, playing as though the world itself was listening to her heartbeat.
He didn't call my name. He didn't approach. But Dmitri caught the shift in Adrien's eyes and frowned, his jaw ticking with a sudden, sharp irritation. Adrien, already smoothing the cuff of his blazer, restored his unreadable calm before anyone else could notice.
"Let's go," he murmured to Dmitri. "We have a lot to do this year. The academy has changed in my absence."
The two stepped out of the cathedral into the quiet stone courtyard as the murmurs faded behind them. The breeze tugged gently at their navy-blue uniforms while students streamed around them like water around two unmoving rocks.
"You vanished for nearly two months," Dmitri said, his voice low. "Then you show up looking like you walked straight out of a Renaissance painting."
Adrien allowed a small smirk. "Only you would make that comparison, Dmitri."
"You missed a lot," Dmitri continued, his voice dropping an octave. "New scholarship student. New rules. My father is... interested. And the Schuyler are already circling." His gaze flicked sideways. "You noticed her. Don't deny it."
Adrien didn't pretend confusion. He was too smart for that. "The violinist," he said evenly. "I remember her from the gala. She has a talent that doesn't belong in an orphanage."
Dmitri's jaw tensed. "She's… complicated. She's already caused a scene in the cafeteria and charmed Julien Rousseau."
Adrien studied him quietly. "You don't get 'complicated' over strangers, Dmitri. Usually, you just ignore them until they disappear."
"She's drawing attention," Dmitri muttered, his eyes dark. "And I don't know why yet. Every time I look at her, I feel like I'm looking at something I should recognize, but can't.
Adrien slowed his pace, thoughtfully. "Do you think she's a threat?"
"No," Dmitri scoffed, though he didn't sound convinced. "Just unexpected. And I don't like surprises."
A beat of silence passed. Adrien looked toward the music wing, where the faint sound of a piano was beginning to drift through the air. "I do," he whispered. "Surprises are the only thing that keep this place from becoming a museum."
Later that morning, as sunlight streamed through the polished windows of the music wing, I hurried down the hall. My violin case bumped softly against my side, the weight of it a comfort in this vast, echoing building. The space felt larger than I expected, high ceilings, footsteps that sounded like drumbeats, and a faint warmth drifting in through the tall windows.
I reached for the practice room door, my mind already on the scales I needed to master... and the door opened before I could even touch the brass handle. Adrien Beaumont stood there.
Up close, he had even more striking, aristocratic features, calm hazel eyes, and a quiet confidence that made the hall feel smaller. He looked like the kind of person who had never had to apologize for anything in his life. I froze, my breath hitching in my throat.
"Pardon," he said gently. His voice was like velvet over gravel. "I didn't mean to startle you."
"You didn't," I whispered, though the frantic flutter in my chest suggested otherwise. I felt like a commoner standing before a king.
His gaze drifted down to my violin case, lingering on the worn leather. "You're new," he said softly. "And a musician."
"Yes. I mean… I'm trying. I was awarded the scholarship for... well, for this." I gestured vaguely to the case.
"I doubt you only 'try,'" Adrien said. A warm, knowing smile touched his lips, a smile that felt far more genuine than the one he had given in the cathedral. "I remember your playing from the charity night. You weren't just playing music; you were telling a story. It was remarkable."
My heart hammered. "You... were you there? I didn't see you."
He nodded once. "I was on the balcony. It was the only reason I stayed until the end."
Before I could respond, hurried footsteps echoed behind me. "Isabelle! I've been looking everywhere… Oh."
Julien Rousseau came to a stop, his eyes widening at the sight of Adrien. The two boys looked at each other, one the son of the Director, the other the heir to the Beaumont empire. The tension between their families was legendary, yet Adrien simply inclined his head.
"You two have met?" Julien asked, his tone curious.
"Briefly," Adrien replied, stepping aside with polished, icy courtesy. "I was just leaving. Have a good rehearsal, Isabelle."
He walked away with the same quiet elegance he had entered with, leaving the scent of sandalwood and old books lingering in the air.
"He's… intimidating," I whispered.
Julien chuckled softly, though there was a hint of something serious in his eyes. "He's kind, in his own way. Just… guarded. That's a Beaumont for you. They're trained to be enigmas before they're even taught to walk."
The Schuyler Estate
Across the city, in an ornate salon draped in heavy velvet and gold leaf, the atmosphere was far less kind. Emmeline Schuyler sat rigidly on a silk-upholstered chair, her hands folded in her lap. Her mother, Lady Seraphina Schuyler, stood near the tall windows, stirring her tea with a soft, rhythmic chime of gold bracelets against porcelain.
"Isabelle Duval," Seraphina repeated, tasting the name as if it were something bitter. "You're certain that is the name she is using?"
"Yes, Mother. It's on the school registry."
"And already drawing attention?"
"Not intentionally," Emmeline muttered. "But Julien defended her in the cafeteria. The music club accepted her instantly. People are… noticing. They're talking about her hair. Her eyes."
Seraphina finally turned. She was the older, perfected version of Emmeline, beautiful, cold, and terrifying in the quietest way. "You let her become visible, Emmeline," Seraphina said, her voice silky and low. "A girl like that should have stayed a shadow. Do you have any idea what is at stake?"
"It wasn't my fault…"
"It is always your fault if you aren't three steps ahead of the board," Seraphina snapped. "That girl carries a face that shouldn't exist anymore. You will fix this."
Emmeline swallowed hard. "How?"
Seraphina approached her daughter, her steps soundless against the marble. She placed a cold, manicured hand on Emmeline's shoulder. "You will watch her. Gain her trust if you must. Be the 'kind mentor' she so desperately needs in that den of vipers. I want to know everything. Who she speaks to, what she learns, what she remembers of her life before the orphanage."
"And if she becomes a problem?" Emmeline whispered.
Seraphina's smile sharpened into something elegant and cruel. "Then she would disappear again, Emmeline. Permanently. And this time, there won't be a scholarship to save her."
St. Aurelia Academy - Girls' Dormitory
By the time I reached the girls' dormitory, the weight of the threats and the strange encounters finally caught up with me. The lobby was quiet, golden lamps casting warm pools of light across the polished marble floor. I had just taken a step toward the elevators when someone straightened from the velvet settee.
Emmeline Schuyler.
She smiled at me, a soft, delicate smile that didn't resemble the sharp, mocking looks the other girls had thrown earlier. It was the smile of a sister, practiced to perfection.
"Isabelle?" her voice floated, gentle and warm. "I hoped I'd run into you."
I blinked, startled. "Oh… hi. Good evening."
She stepped closer, her hands clasped in front of her. "I'm Emmeline Schuyler. I wanted to introduce myself properly. I heard about what happened with Arabella... I'm truly sorry. It's not how we want our new students to feel."
"The girl they bullied… is she okay?" I asked.
"Yes," Emmeline replied, her eyes flickering with what looked like genuine concern. "I made sure she was taken care of personally. I don't condone what they did, Isabelle. And honestly? I'm glad you stepped in. This school needs more people who aren't afraid to speak up."
That caught me off guard. " You are?"
"Of course." Her lips curved in an elegant smile. "And if you need anything, absolutely anything, you can come to me. I don't want you to feel alone here. A girl with your talent shouldn't be looking over her shoulder."
Her offer felt warm, like a fireplace on a winter night. But as I looked into her light brown eyes, I felt a strange prickle of intuition. There was something underneath the kindness, something carefully hidden behind a wall of glass.
"Thank you, Emmeline. That means a lot."
"Good. Rest well, Isabelle."
With a final graceful nod, she turned and drifted toward the staircase. I was left standing in the lobby, clutching my violin case, unsure if I had just gained a powerful ally... or stepped directly into a trap.