The noise of the canteen had faded into a memory.
The three boys stood before their respective doors in the silent corridor.
As Luka brought his Key-Card near the sleek scanner embedded in the door, the mechanical lock disengaged with a melodic 'beep.'
"Luka... can you handle being alone?"
Yuki's voice was tinged with hesitation.
A faint but reassuring smile touched Luka's lips.
"Yes, I can."
He stepped inside.
Turning back, he saw Yuki and Haru still watching him with concerned eyes.
"You two should go rest as well; it's been an exhausting day."
Luka pulled the door handle, sealing himself into the quiet sanctuary of the modern room with a soft click.
In his own quarters, Haru kicked off his shoes and dived straight onto the bed.
He propped a pillow against the wall, leaning back comfortably.
Through his window, the view was breathtaking—a sprawling, lush garden filled with greenery, shimmering like gold under the fading light of the setting sun.
Yuki stood frozen by his own window, his fingertips tracing the cool surface of the glass.
The outside world looked like a blurred painting, but his mind was still occupied with the Academy's strict regulations and the weight of their uncertain future.
But inside Luka's room, the atmosphere was different.
He lay flat on his bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling.
He raised one hand into the air, as if reaching for something invisible.
Closing his eyes, he focused every fiber of his being on the memory of Len.
The air in the room was perfectly still, and then—Luka's entire body jolted.
He felt it.
A cold phantom of a breeze had just brushed against the tips of his fingers.
The touch was so real, so terrifyingly familiar, that Luka's breath caught in his throat.
Was it a trick of his mind, or was Len truly standing there in the shadows?
Luka closed his heavy eyelids.
As sleep finally pulled him under, a vivid sensation washed over him—Len was lying right beside him, his low voice echoing in the stillness of the room like a soft lullaby.
He remained cocooned in the velvet safety of those memories all night.
Elsewhere, as the first light of dawn tapped on the windows of the grand suite, Len's eyes snapped open.
He instinctively reached out, but found only the cold emptiness of the sheets.
Astria was gone.
An unfamiliar panic flared in his chest.
He leaped from the bed, his small eyes searching every corner and every shadow.
When she was nowhere to be found, he rushed to the heavy doors where the guards stood watch.
"Where is Astria?"
Len's small voice radiated an undeniable authority.
The guard looked down at him and offered a gentle smile, "She is still inside, little master. It's very early; she is likely taking a shower."
Len said nothing, returning to the room with quick, small steps.
He lay on the bed, waiting, but his restlessness grew as time passed.
There was no sound of water from the shower room.
Finally, he pushed through the heavy drapes himself.
He peeked behind stone pillars, calling her name in a hushed tone, but met only with silence.
When he reached the main area of the bath, he froze.
Astria was there, but exhaustion had claimed her so completely that she had fallen into a deep sleep while bathing.
Len didn't try to wake her.
Instead, he quietly dragged a heavy chair from the outer room and positioned it directly in front of her.
He sat there like a loyal sentinel, his gaze fixed on the peacefulness of her face.
Before he knew it, his own eyes grew heavy, and he drifted off, curled up in that very chair.
Suddenly, Astria's eyes fluttered open.
She gasped, seeing little Len asleep in the chair right before her.
She moved quickly, donning her Black and Red Gown, and knelt beside him.
"Len? What are you doing here?"
There was a sweet surprise in her voice.
Len jolted awake.
Rubbing his blurry eyes, he saw Astria kneeling there.
The fear for her safety vanished in an instant.
Without a word, he lunged forward and threw his arms around her, burying his head against her shoulder and holding her tight.
Luka closed his heavy eyelids.
As sleep finally pulled him under, a vivid sensation washed over him—Len was lying right beside him, his low voice echoing in the stillness of the room like a soft lullaby.
He remained cocooned in the velvet safety of those memories all night.
Elsewhere, as the first light of dawn tapped on the windows of the grand suite, Len's eyes snapped open.
He instinctively reached out, but found only the cold emptiness of the sheets.
Astria was gone.
An unfamiliar panic flared in his chest.
He leaped from the bed, his small eyes searching every corner and every shadow.
When she was nowhere to be found, he rushed to the heavy doors where the guards stood watch.
"Where is Astria?"
Len's voice was small, but it carried a sharp, undeniable authority.
The guard looked down at him and spoke formally, "She is still inside. It's very early; she is likely in the bathhouse."
Len said nothing, returning to the room with quick, small steps.
He lay on the bed, waiting, but his restlessness grew as time passed.
There was no sound from the bathhouse.
Finally, he pushed through the heavy drapes himself.
He peeked behind carved stone pillars, calling her name in a hushed tone, but met only with silence.
When he reached the main area of the bathhouse, he froze.
Astria was there, but exhaustion had claimed her so completely that she had fallen into a deep sleep while bathing.
Len didn't try to wake her.
Instead, he quietly lifted a heavy chair, carrying it with careful precision to ensure not a single sound disturbed her slumber.
He positioned it directly in front of her and sat down like a loyal sentinel, his gaze fixed on the peacefulness of her face.
Before he knew it, his own eyes grew heavy, and he drifted off, curled up in that very chair.
Suddenly, Astria's eyes fluttered open.
She gasped, seeing little Len asleep in the chair right before her.
She moved quickly, donning her magnificent Black and Red Gown.
The dress was a deep, midnight black adorned with intricate, shimmering patterns that caught the dim light like distant stars.
Its long, flowing sleeves revealed a striking crimson red lining, resembling a hidden flame within the darkness.
Silver chains draped elegantly at her waist, and the high collar gave her the air of a powerful sovereign.
She knelt beside him on the cold floor.
"Len? What are you doing here?"
There was a sweet surprise in her voice.
Len jolted awake.
Rubbing his blurry eyes, he saw Astria kneeling there in her regal attire.
The fear for her safety vanished in an instant.
Without a word, he lunged forward and threw his arms around her, burying his head against her shoulder and holding her tight.
Time seemed to freeze on the cold floor of the bathhouse.
Len remained speechless, his lips sealed tight.
He continued to hold Astria in his small arms as if he never intended to let her go.
Astria remained on her knees, the silken threads of her Black and Red Gown cascading across the floor like a pool of dark ink.
"Len... what happened? Why are you so troubled?"
Astria asked, gently patting his back.
Until this moment, Len's behavior was perfectly normal.
He gave no answer, simply holding her in that heavy silence for a while longer, treasuring the closeness.
Eventually, Astria pulled away gently.
"Come on, let's head out."
The moment Astria stood up, Len climbed down from the chair and began to move it back to its place with his usual careful precision.
Astria turned and stopped him affectionately, "Len, leave the chair there. Walk with me."
Len abandoned the chair as ordered and began walking alongside her.
Everything was fine until they turned to exit the bathhouse; then, Len's gaze caught a specific detail on the back of Astria's gown.
His expression shifted instantly—a dark cloud of displeasure settled over his face in a heartbeat.
He puffed out his cheeks, his eyes filling with a cold, distant gaze.
He followed her into the main room, but the warmth in his step had been replaced by a frigid annoyance.
Once inside, Len didn't cast a single glance toward Astria.
He ignored her entirely.
He snatched a heavy book from a nearby table and sprawled out on the sofa, positioning himself as if he were the only soul in the room.
On the other side of the room, Astria took her seat at the table near the window.
From there, she watched Len, whose eyes were now buried in the pages of the book.
He lay there as if Astria were a mere ghost, an invisible entity in his space.
"Len?"
Astria tried to intervene, her voice laced with confusion and concern.
"What's wrong? Why are you acting like this?"
Len turned a page with a sharp, deliberate flick of his wrist, but his gaze never lifted.
The silence in the room grew heavy with an unspoken tension, a silent war where silence was his only weapon.