Three weeks without Priscilla.
Nova had expected to miss her. He hadn't expected the misshapen to be a constant ache, a hollow space behind his ribs that nothing else filled. He trained harder. Cultivated longer. Pushed himself until his body screamed and his vision blurred.
It helped. Mostly.
The Moonlace seedling sat on his windowsill, growing slowly under his inexpert care. He talked to it sometimes—stilted, awkward conversations about his day, his training, the idiots in Class S. The plant didn't respond, but somehow that made it easier.
She'll be back, he told himself. Six weeks. Then she's back.
Week 13, Day 2 — Dining Hall
The rumors started quietly.
Nova noticed them first as a shift in atmosphere—glances that lingered too long, whispers that stopped when he approached. At first he assumed it was ranking-related. His position had climbed to 3rd overall, trailing only Valerius and Isadora in the monthly standings.
But the looks were wrong. Too soft. Too... appreciative.
"Nova Almond?"
He looked up from his tray. A girl stood before him—Class C, by her uniform, with dark hair and nervous eyes. Behind her, a cluster of friends watched with barely contained excitement.
"Yes?"
"I'm Liana. I just wanted to say—" She flushed. "I think you're really amazing. The way you fight, the way you've climbed the rankings—it's inspiring."
Nova stared at her. "Thank you?"
"Also, you're really handsome." The words came out in a rush. "Everyone thinks so. There's actually a group of us who—" She stopped, clearly realizing she was about to say too much. "Anyway. Good luck with your training!"
She fled.
Nova sat frozen, his fork halfway to his mouth.
Kaelen, across the table, burst out laughing.
"What," Nova said flatly, "was that."
"That was your fan club." Kaelen wiped his eyes. "Didn't you know? You're kind of a big deal. Rank 3, youngest in Class A, teleportation genius, and apparently—" He gestured at Nova's face. "That."
Nova touched his own cheek. "What?"
"The brooding mysterious look. The silver hair. The gold-flecked eyes when you're angry." Kaelen shook his head. "You're completely oblivious, aren't you? Half the lower classes have posters of you."
"They do not."
"Check the Class C dormitory wall. I dare you."
Nova decided not to check.
Week 13, Day 4 — Combat Class
The fan situation escalated.
During water breaks, students from other classes found excuses to approach him. Questions about technique. Requests for advice. Invitations to study together, train together, eat together. Each interaction was polite, professional, and utterly transparent.
They weren't interested in his combat advice.
"Nova, focus." Thorne's voice cut through his distraction. "Unless you want your opponent's blade in your chest."
Nova refocused. His current sparring partner—a Class B girl with fire affinity—was watching him with an expression that had nothing to do with combat.
"Your guard's down," she said, not attacking.
"I'm aware."
"Want to get coffee after this?"
He teleported behind her and ended the match in two seconds.
That evening, Rina found him in the library.
"You're handling the attention poorly," she observed, sliding into the seat across from him.
"I'm handling it by ignoring it."
"That's not handling. That's avoiding." She pulled out a data slate. "Let me give you some advice. You're going to have a fan club whether you want it or not. The way you deal with it determines whether they become assets or liabilities."
"Assets?"
"Information networks. Early warnings. People who notice things because they're watching you anyway." She shrugged. "You're not the first handsome genius to pass through this academy. Learn from those who came before."
Nova considered this. "And how did they handle it?"
"Some used it. Most were destroyed by it." She stood. "Choose wisely."
Week 13, Day 6 — The Encounter
He was walking back from the cultivation chamber when they cornered him.
Three girls from Class C—the same ones who'd been watching him in the dining hall. They'd positioned themselves strategically in a secluded corridor, blocking his path with smiles that were trying too hard to be casual.
"Nova." The leader—Liana, the one who'd spoken to him before—stepped forward. "We were hoping to run into you."
"You're blocking my path."
"We wanted to invite you to something." She gestured at her friends. "A small gathering. Just some students who admire you. We thought—maybe you'd like to get to know us better."
The implication was clear.
Nova looked at them. Pretty, all three. Young, eager, flattered by the attention of a higher-rank student. In another life, a different man might have taken what they offered and moved on.
But he saw Priscilla's face in his mind. Her laugh. Her dirt-stained uniform. The way she'd looked at him like he was worth something beyond his rank and his power.
"I'm flattered," he said. "But I'm not interested."
Liana's smile faltered. "It's just a gathering. Nothing serious."
"I have a girlfriend."
The words hung in the air.
"A girlfriend?" One of the other girls—sharper, less patient—stepped forward. "Who? Some Class A princess who thinks she's better than everyone?"
"Class B, actually."
"Class B?" Disbelief. "You're dating someone from Class B? When you could have anyone?"
Nova's eyes went cold.
"I could have anyone," he agreed quietly. "I chose her."
He stepped around them and continued down the corridor.
Behind him, the silence was absolute.
The next day, everyone knew.
Rina appeared at his elbow during breakfast, her expression unreadable. "Your girlfriend situation is public now."
"I didn't realize it was a situation."
"It is now." She slid into the seat beside him. "The Class C girls you rejected have been talking. Apparently you're dating some mysterious Class B student. No one knows who."
"Good."
"It won't stay secret forever." Rina's voice dropped. "And when it comes out, she's going to have problems. Jealousy is a powerful motivator."
Nova's jaw tightened. "If anyone touches her—"
"You'll what? Kill them?" Rina shook her head. "This is an academy, not a battlefield. You can't solve everything with violence."
"Watch me."
She studied him for a long moment. "You really care about her."
Nova didn't answer.
But he didn't deny it either.
Week 14, Day 1 — Morning Exercise
The gravity was still 3x. Nova's body had adapted, his bloodline activation now at 27% pushing him past limits that should have held him back. He ran through the drills mechanically, his mind elsewhere.
Priscilla had been gone for four weeks. Two more to go.
The Moonlace seedling had grown three new leaves.
He talked to it every night.
After exercise, Valerius called him aside.
"Your physical improvement is remarkable. Even accounting for bloodline, you're progressing faster than anyone I've trained." She studied him with those sharp eyes. "But something's different about you lately. More focused. More driven. Also more—" She searched for the word. "Distant."
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine. You're running from something." She crossed her arms. "I don't care what it is. But don't let it consume you. The students who burn brightest often burn out fastest."
She walked away.
Nova stood alone on the training ground, sweat cooling on his skin, and thought about her words.
Burning out.
He thought about Priscilla. About the hollow space behind his ribs. About the way the Moonlace seedling was the first thing he checked every morning and the last thing he touched every night.
Maybe Valerius was right.
Maybe he was running.
But running toward something felt better than standing still.
Week 14, Day 3 — The Letter
A message appeared on his interface during lunch.
FROM: Priscilla
SUBJECT: I'm still alive
Nova,
The accelerated training is brutal. They wake us at 3 AM and don't stop until midnight. My plant affinity has tripled in strength. I can feel everything growing within a mile radius. It's incredible and terrifying and I wish you were here.
I think about you constantly. Your stupid serious face. Your terrible jokes. The way you talk to my Moonlace like it can understand you. (It can, by the way. Plants remember everything.)
Two more weeks. Then I'm back.
Wait for me.
—P
P.S. — The instructors here are impressed. They say I might qualify for Class A when I return. Can you imagine? Me, in Class A, with you?
Nova read the letter three times.
Then he read it again.
For the first time in four weeks, he smiled.
That night, he talked to the Moonlace longer than usual.
"She's coming back," he told it. "Two weeks. She says you can understand me. Is that true?"
The plant didn't respond.
But one of its leaves curled slightly, as if reaching toward him.
Nova touched it gently.
"Two weeks," he repeated. "I'll be here."