Chapter 4 - Library
[Third person POV.]
The Royal Academy's library was a vast, cathedral-like sanctuary of knowledge. High vaulted ceilings disappeared into shadows, and the air smelled comfortably of aging parchment, leather bindings, and polished mahogany. For Luan, stepping behind the massive circulation desk felt like finally taking a deep breath after a day of suffocating tension.
His assistant librarian duties were a perfect escape. Organize the returned texts, catalog the new arrivals, and assist the occasional student. The quiet isolation suited him perfectly. He quickly settled into the rhythm, his nimble fingers tracing the gilded spines of heavy tomes as he sorted them in the dim, narrow aisles.
The profound silence was abruptly broken by the sharp, authoritative click of expensive leather shoes. Kaelen Noctis wandered into the library, his blue eyes scanning the towering shelves with blatant impatience. He needed specific textbooks for his advanced history class, a menial task he usually forced upon his household servants, but the Academy's strict rules required students to fetch their own materials.
As Kaelen walked down the central aisle, his annoyance deepened, until he stopped dead in his tracks.
A few feet away, a boy with his back turned was reaching for a high shelf. What caught Kaelen's breath and ignited an immediate, ugly spark of envy in his chest, it was the boy's hair. It was a brilliant, cascading silver. In the afternoon light streaming through the stained-glass windows, it looked like spun moonlight, pristine and untouched.
Kaelen instinctively touched his own hair. Even as the beloved youngest son of the Noctis Duchy, his hair was a flat, dull gray. He had always harbored a bitter, secret insecurity about it. He relied on expensive styling, imported perfumes, and his status as a rare Omega to overcompensate for lacking the legendary, pure Noctis silver. To see such a striking, flawless color on a complete stranger made his blood boil.
Assuming the boy must belong to a high-ranking, perhaps foreign, noble family, Kaelen lifted his chin, adopting his most practiced, haughty tone.
"Hey, you with the silver hair," Kaelen called out, expecting the boy to turn with the immediate deference owed to a Duke's son.
Luan paused, lowering his arms, and slowly turned around.
Kaelen's expectant smirk vanished. He stared at Luan's face, taking in the startlingly delicate, almost ethereal features, but his gaze zeroed in aggressively on the eyes. They weren't the piercing, luminous jewel tones of the high nobility; they were a flat, muddy brown.
The illusion of nobility shattered instantly.
"Huh? Brown eyes?" Kaelen's nose wrinkled in immediate, visceral disgust. The relief that this boy wasn't a noble rival was quickly replaced by outrage. "Are you a commoner?"
Luan recognized the boy instantly. It was the pampered student who had stepped out of the Noctis carriage that morning, the one everyone fawned over. Keeping his expression perfectly neutral, showing none of the intimidation Kaelen clearly wanted to see, Luan simply nodded. "Yes. How can I help you?"
Kaelen crossed his arms, the fine silk of his uniform rustling loudly in the quiet aisle. "What are you doing in this school?"
"I study here," Luan replied, his voice even and completely unbothered.
"How could a commoner enter such a prestigious school?" Kaelen scoffed, taking a step forward to use his height and status to box the frail-looking boy in. "Only nobles are permitted to walk these halls. Wait... are you one of those charity scholars?"
"Precisely," Luan said, his tone remaining perfectly polite, refusing to take the bait. He gestured to the shelves around them. "Again, how can I help you find what you need?"
Kaelen looked down his nose at Luan, his earlier envy curdling into a deep, toxic disdain. How dare a filthy commoner possess hair more beautiful than his own? How dare a rat from the slums stand in the same hallowed halls, speaking to him without trembling?
"Rats..." Kaelen whispered, making sure his voice carried clearly in the quiet space. He flipped his dull gray hair with a proud, arrogant look, sneering at Luan's faded, standard-issue uniform. "I don't need any help from someone like you. Keep your dirty hands off the books I need."
Before Luan could simply nod and walk away from the spoiled noble, the heavy, iron-wrought doors of the library groaned open.
The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly. Though Luan, as a Beta, couldn't detect pheromones, he could feel the sudden, heavy drop in the air pressure. Kaelen gasped softly, his aggressive posture melting away as he hastily smoothed his uniform and adopted a delicate, wide-eyed expression.
Crown Prince Alaric stepped inside. His golden hair seemed to catch every ounce of light in the room. His golden eyes swept the area with an air of absolute authority. They briefly landed on Kaelen, acknowledging the Omega's submissive, eager presence with nothing more than a blank blink-before locking entirely onto Luan.
A genuine, soft smile broke across the Prince's usually stoic face.
"Fancy seeing you here," Alaric said, his deep voice carrying effortlessly across the room as he walked straight past Kaelen.
Kaelen froze, his bright blue eyes widening in utter shock. He looked back and forth between the Crown Prince and the commoner, his mind failing to compute the interaction.
Luan immediately stepped out from the aisle, bowing low and pressing a hand to his chest in a flawless, courtly gesture of respect, a move Master Elian had drilled into him until his muscles memorized it. "I have duties here under the scholarship program, Your Highness. I also sincerely apologize for not recognizing you earlier this morning in the courtyard."
"You know the Crown Prince...?" Kaelen whispered, his voice trembling. A furious, burning jealousy flared so hot in his chest it made him dizzy. How dare a commoner get closer to the Prince? Kaelen thought, his hands clenching into tight fists at his sides, his fingernails biting into his palms. Only we nobles should have the honor of his attention!
Alaric raised a hand, gracefully waving off Luan's apology, completely ignoring the fuming Omega standing mere inches away. "No worries. I do not mind at all. In fact, I am glad to have found you. Would you mind helping me locate some texts for advanced political theory?"
"My pleasure," Luan murmured.
Without sparing a single glance at Kaelen, Luan gestured for the Prince to follow him toward the restricted textbook section in the back. Kaelen was left standing completely alone in the aisle, his face flushed a deep, ugly red with humiliation and bitter, festering resentment.
As Luan led the way into the dimly lit, narrow aisles of the senior section, he kept his focus entirely on the spines of the books. He began pulling heavy texts from the shelves, blowing a thin layer of dust off the covers.
"Here is the Treatise of the Third Era," Luan explained softly, his voice a calm murmur in the quiet space. "And if you are looking for the economic impacts of the border wars, Professor Vance usually prefers the unrevised edition by Lord Xantheos, located right..."
Luan trailed off as he turned back to hand the book over.
Alaric wasn't looking at the books. He was standing much closer than Luan had anticipated, his towering frame making the aisle feel incredibly small. The Prince was analyzing the boy before him with intense, unabashed fascination.
Up close, Luan's silver hair looked incredibly soft, falling perfectly around a pale face dusted with a natural, faint blush. His lips were a natural cherry red, slightly pouty as he concentrated on the titles, and his long silver lashes fluttered against his cheeks with every blink. Every movement Luan made was calm, gentle, and incredibly poised.
If you didn't look at his brown eyes, Alaric thought, entirely mesmerized by the delicate slope of Luan's neck, you would swear he was the highest-ranking noble in the empire. He holds himself with more grace than the entire royal court combined. Luan, highly perceptive, could feel the heavy, golden gaze boring into his face. The intense, silent scrutiny was making his skin prickle with an unfamiliar, nervous heat. He closed the heavy book he was holding with a soft thud, holding it out like a shield.
"Ehem," Luan cleared his throat gently, keeping his eyes politely lowered to the Prince's collarbone. "I think I have already explained all the details of the required texts. I should leave you to finish your studies now. If I may excuse myself, Your Highness."
Luan turned quickly, eager to escape the overwhelming, suffocating presence of the Alpha.
Seeing the boy slipping away again, an irrational, instinctive panic seized Alaric. Without thinking, driven by an urge he didn't understand, the Prince suddenly reached out and grabbed Luan's wrist.
Luan gasped, his body jolting to a halt. His brown eyes flew wide open in shock as he looked down at the large, warm hand wrapped around his thin arm. "!! Ahh—… is there anything else you would like to get help with, Your Highness?"
The physical contact sent a jolt of electricity through both of them. Alaric stared down at his own hand, stunned by his sudden lack of restraint. Royals did not touch commoners. Alaric never touched anyone without explicit permission. Yet, beneath his fingers, Luan's wrist felt impossibly fragile, the pulse beating rapidly against Alaric's palm like a trapped bird.
He immediately snatched his hand back, his usually composed, regal face flushing with a rare wave of embarrassment.
"Ehem, pardon me," Alaric stammered slightly, clearing his throat and taking a step back. "I didn't mea— I mean. I apologize. You may go."
Luan didn't wait for a second dismissal. He gave a hurried, stiff bow and practically fled out of the aisle, rushing back to the safety of the front desk.
Once safely behind the massive wooden counter, Luan let out a long, shaky breath. Trying to calm his racing heart, he reached into his satchel with trembling fingers, pulled out a pair of wire-rimmed reading glasses, and slipped them onto his face. He opened his own history textbook, desperately trying to focus on the words and ignore the strange, lingering warmth on his wrist.
Meanwhile, Prince Alaric gathered his books and took a seat at a large oak table in the corner of the library. He opened his political theory text, but he purposefully chose a chair that gave him a clear, unobstructed view of the front desk.
For the next two hours, the Crown Prince of the Drakovian Empire barely turned a single page. Little did he know, he spent almost his entire study session resting his chin on his hand, simply watching the silver-haired boy read. He watched how Luan would push his glasses up the bridge of his nose, how he absentmindedly chewed on his bottom lip when reading a difficult passage, and how the light caught his silver hair. Luan, entirely engrossed in his studies and eager to pretend the Prince didn't exist, remained completely clueless to the royal gaze fixed intensely upon him.
Hours later, the sky outside the high windows turned a deep, bruised purple. Luan finally finished his shift, packed his satchel, and returned to the quiet sanctuary of his dorm room.
The absolute silence of the room was a stark contrast to the chaotic, emotionally exhausting events of the day. Luan stripped off his uniform, carefully folded it, and stepped into the warm shower. He let the hot water wash over him, hoping to scrub away the tension knotting his shoulders.
As he washed his hair, his mind raced back over the day. He had met the arrogant, spoiled Omega he was supposed to avoid at all costs. He had drawn the ire and jealousy of a high-ranking noble. And most dangerously, he had caught the attention of the Crown Prince, whose sudden touch still felt like a phantom brand burning on his skin.
Stepping out of the shower and crawling into the soft, clean sheets of his bed, Luan stared up at the dark ceiling.
Keep your head down. Be a ghost, Master Elian had told him.
Luan pulled the blankets up to his chin, his brow furrowed with worry. As his eyes grew heavy and exhaustion finally dragged him toward sleep, he realized with a sinking feeling that being a ghost in the Royal Academy was going to be much, much harder than he had ever imagined.