Alden — POV
The week following the Verdant Hollow Incident passed beneath a blanket of carefully manufactured silence.
The Academy excelled at controlling narratives. To the public—and to most of the student body—the dungeon trial was declared a resounding success. The screams of dying monsters were rebranded as educational milestones, and the appearance of an A-rank demon vanished beneath layers of sealed documents and classified reports. Only those of us who had stood in that blood-soaked chamber knew the truth.
And we were all quiet—whether from exhaustion, fear, or secrets too dangerous to voice.
Because the Academy needed time to repair its damaged spatial wards—and perhaps because the faculty needed time to scrub the fingerprints of an Unidentified Variable from the scene—we were granted a two-week reprieve.
Two weeks of calm.
Two weeks of pretending nothing had gone wrong.
I stood by the window of my dormitory room, leaning against the polished mahogany frame while steam curled lazily from my coffee cup. Outside, the spires of Elderia shimmered in the morning light, pristine and indifferent.
How did the demon know where we were?
The question tasted more bitter than the coffee. Dungeons were compartmentalized, layered with isolation protocols. An A-rank demon shouldn't have been able to pinpoint the exact location of three heirs to SS-rank bloodlines unless someone had handed him the map.
A rat in the walls, I decided.
Or a god with a sense of humor.
I set the cup aside and reached for my jacket—
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Sharp. Rhythmic. Deliberate.
I paused. My Astral Perception flickered instinctively, catching only the faintest trace of mana—cold, refined, unmistakably familiar. By the time I opened the door, the hallway was empty.
My gaze dropped.
A cream-colored envelope rested neatly on the stone floor, sealed with dark blue wax stamped into the shape of a blooming frost-rose.
I picked it up and returned to my desk, slicing the seal with a silver letter opener. The parchment inside was thick, expensive, and faintly scented with winter air.
The city of Oakhaven is quiet this time of year.
There is a café near the fountain that serves remarkably cold tea.
Meet me at the Academy's front gate at two.
Do not keep the ice waiting.
I stared at the letter for several seconds before a smile crept onto my face.
"…Is this a date?" I murmured to the empty room.
"Alicia von Valerion is inviting me on a date?"
My thoughts spiraled. Was this a test? A warning? A subtle interrogation about the starlight?
Or—against all logic—was it possible that the Ice Queen actually wanted to spend time with me?
"Well," I said to my reflection, adjusting my collar as a grin spread across my face, "whatever it is… I'm in."
I skipped the academy uniform and opted for something simpler. A black vest over a charcoal shirt, fitted trousers, leather boots. Practical—but intentional. I spent far too long fixing my hair before settling on something that framed my crimson eyes with just enough reckless charm.
I looked like a man about to steal something important.
I arrived at the front gate forty minutes early.
I told myself it was strategy.
It wasn't.
To my surprise, the bench beneath the grand archway was already occupied.
Alicia von Valerion sat there, legs crossed, completely absorbed in a thick, leather-bound book. She wasn't wearing her usual tailored combat attire. Instead, she wore a simple white sundress that softened her sharp presence, silver hair pinned loosely back and spilling down her shoulders like falling frost.
She looked… unreal.
I squinted, trying to read the title etched into the cover. The script was old—jagged, half-eroded.
Something about Sed—
Sed…
Seduction?
Before I could focus, her head snapped up.
In one smooth motion, she closed the book and slipped it into her spatial ring. A faint flush—barely visible—touched her cheeks as she stood.
"You're early," she said.
"So are you," I replied, stopping a few steps away. "Were you waiting long? And… what was that book?"
Her answer came a little too fast. "Nothing important. Just… light reading."
I smirked. "It looked intense."
"It's theoretical," she said, waving a hand. "Social concepts."
"Social concepts," I echoed. "That sounds dangerous."
Her lips twitched despite herself.
She studied me openly now, gaze traveling from my boots to my vest, lingering briefly on my eyes. "You look… decent."
"Decent?" I laughed. "I worked hard for decent."
"For you," she added calmly, "that's impressive."
I stepped closer. "You, on the other hand, look like you accidentally walked out of someone's daydream."
She froze.
The air around us cooled slightly, her mana reacting to her pulse. Instead of pulling away, she reached out and adjusted my vest, fingers brushing my chest a second longer than necessary.
"Let's go," she said quietly. "Before someone notices you're gone."
She took my hand.
Her grip was cool, steady—and unmistakably possessive.
As we passed through the Academy gates together, the weight of demons, systems, and looming wars faded into the background. For once, I wasn't an anomaly.
And she wasn't a regressor.
We were just two dangerous people heading into the city—
and whatever this date was meant to become.