When Lewis walked into the Great Hall the next morning,
he immediately noticed something was off.
It wasn't just Ravenclaw.
Gryffindor.
Hufflepuff.
Even Slytherin.
Students from every house were staring at him—
with curiosity, excitement…
almost like he had become Harry Potter on his first day.
Looks like last night's adventure had already spread.
As he sat down,
he was surprised to see two figures approaching—
from opposite directions.
Shirila.
Hermione.
At the same time.
Steve silently scooted two seats away.
A wise man.
"You brat," Shirila dropped into the seat beside him and slapped his shoulder.
"Going on an adventure without me?"
"I thought we were friends!"
Sorry, if it were a different kind of party, I'd definitely invite you.
Lewis forced his gaze away from the smooth, fair thigh pressing close to him—
just as Hermione sat down on his other side.
"Apologies, Miss Rayenlun," Hermione said politely,
"Mr. Green joined us at our invitation. We didn't realize you were interested in our 'little adventure.' That was our oversight."
Polite words.
But there was definitely tension underneath.
"Invitation?" Shirila scoffed lightly.
"I heard it was more like… asking for help."
She crossed her arms.
"Typical Gryffindor. Reckless as always. In the end, you still needed Ravenclaw to clean things up."
"You—!" Hermione flushed.
"That's because Lewis is our friend! Of course he helped us—right, Lewis?"
"Friend?" Shirila glanced sideways.
"Friends who only bring trouble? Better keep those to a minimum."
"…Don't you think so, Lewis?"
Silence.
Two pairs of eyes locked onto him.
Pressure skyrocketed.
Even the surrounding Ravenclaws had retreated four seats away.
But Lewis—
understood instantly.
This wasn't about logic.
It was about one thing:
Who mattered more to him.
In short—
competition.
"争宠."
…That made things easy.
Lewis subtly strengthened his mental influence,
and put on his signature gentle smile.
"Why so tense this early in the morning?"
"You're both important friends to me."
"It really hurts to see you arguing like this."
He lowered his gaze slightly—
a hint of sadness.
"This is my fault. I should've introduced you properly sooner…"
"I don't have a misunderstanding with her!"
"This isn't your fault, Lewis, I just think she—"
They both spoke at once.
Lewis ignored them.
"Maybe you just haven't interacted much before."
"That's all. Once you get to know each other, it'll be fine."
He turned to Hermione.
"Hermione, this is my senior—Shirila Rayenlun. You've probably seen her on the Quidditch pitch. She's my partner there… and my closest friend in Ravenclaw. She takes great care of me."
Then he looked at Shirila.
Under his gaze, she sighed.
"…Hi. Shirila Rayenlun. Just call me Shirila—or Ciri."
Hermione straightened slightly.
"…Hello. Just call me Hermione."
Just like that—
they cooperated.
Because neither of them wanted to see that expression on Lewis's face again.
"That's better," Lewis clapped softly, smiling.
"You're both important to me. My closest friends."
"You're the reason my time at Hogwarts is so wonderful."
"If you two fight… I wouldn't even be able to focus on school."
"So—"
"Don't make me worry, alright?"
That did it.
Both girls flushed slightly.
"…I won't argue with her anymore."
"…I'm not that unreasonable either."
They even forced a brief, awkward conversation—
laughing lightly.
Then left.
Five minutes later—
after confirming the danger had passed—
Steve and Roger cautiously returned.
"That was terrifying," Steve whispered.
"I thought they were about to fight."
"They wouldn't," Lewis said calmly, pouring himself milk.
"…You sure?"
"Hermione would probably open with Expelliarmus. Fastest spell she knows."
"As for Shirila—she prefers fists, but she'd likely start with Burning Hands or Shocking Grasp."
"…That's worse!!" Steve panicked.
"They won't fight in front of me," Lewis said, taking a sip.
"…What about when you're not around?" Roger asked quietly.
Lewis glanced at him.
"If I'm not there, why would they fight?"
"…Oh."
"…OH."
Realization hit.
"…So you knew?"
Lewis smirked slightly.
"If I didn't, do you think I could make them argue over me?"
"…You're terrifying," Roger muttered.
"…Also, what you said just now sounded really… green tea."
Lewis shook his finger.
"You don't get it."
"Doesn't matter if it sounds manipulative."
"What matters is—does it work?"
"…It works."
"Exactly."
Roger suddenly grabbed Lewis's sleeve.
"Brother, teach me!"
"I'm in my fourth year and still single!"
"Same!" Steve chimed in.
Lewis leaned back slightly.
"Fine. It's simple."
Roger immediately refilled his milk like a loyal servant.
"First—have a strength. Without something outstanding, you won't attract anyone."
"Got it!"
"Second—learn to talk. Emotions matter. Especially when dealing with multiple girls."
"You call it manipulation. I call it efficiency."
"…That makes sense."
"And finally—"
Lewis paused.
Everyone leaned in.
"The most important part."
"If you have this, the other two don't even matter."
Silence.
Lewis smiled.
"Have a face as handsome as mine."
"…."
"…Get lost!"
"Shameless!"
"Typical looks-maxing demon!"
The crowd instantly dispersed.
Sure, it was true—
but completely useless advice.
If they were half as handsome as him,
they wouldn't be here asking.
Lewis chuckled,
finished his milk,
and stood up.
The term was almost over.
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