Both Sofia and her friends turned at the same time. And Magnus immediately realized — far too late — that he had not thought this through. At all!
Because whatever this was… this was not a conversation you started in the middle of a hallway. Not with people walking past. Not with Sofia's entire social circle standing right there.
So, naturally, his brain promptly blue-screened.
"Magnus?" Sofia prompted, one brow arching slightly. "You needed something?"
"I—uh—"
Words failed him. Completely.
"…Could I speak to you privately?" he managed, after what felt like an eternity.
Sofia's eyebrow climbed higher. Magnus felt heat crawl up his neck.
"No, I mean—" he rushed, immediately flustered. "It's—it's about Alex! I just—uh—I need advice on something."
That didn't sound suspicious at all! Great job.
Sofia's friends exchanged glances. Then, almost in sync, they looked back at her. Sofia held Magnus's gaze for a second longer, measuring. Then she gave a small, casual nod.
"Go on," she told them.
That was all it took. They peeled away without protest, though not without curiosity — one of them shooting Magnus a look that was equal parts intrigued and amused before disappearing down the hall. Magnus resisted the urge to sink into the floor. Sofia turned back to him.
"…Alright, Romeo," she said, folding her arms. "What's this about?"
Magnus opened his mouth. Paused. Closed it again.
Yeah. No! Still not happening here.
"Can we—uh—go somewhere?" he tried instead. "Like… not here?"
Sofia watched him for another beat. Then, slowly, a smile crept onto her face.
Oh no!
"Wow," she said. "You're actually serious."
"That's what I've been trying to say—"
"Alright," she cut in, already turning on her heel. "Let's get coffee or something! You're buying."
"Oh—okay," Magnus said automatically.
She was already walking. He blinked. Then hurried after her.
"Wait—Sofia—"
Too late. He fell into step beside her as they headed out of the building, his mind racing ahead, trying — and failing — to figure out how exactly he was supposed to bring this up without dying of embarrassment first. Beside him, Sofia glanced over. Still smiling. Definitely enjoying this more than she should. Magnus groaned internally.
This was a mistake! A terrible, terrible mistake.
And yet…
Still better than calling his mom!
Probably?
…Hopefully.
Behind them, the hallway settled back into its usual rhythm. Students moved. Conversations resumed. Life went on. And somewhere in that flow…
A passing glance lingered a little too long. A phone was pulled out. A message typed. A post made. Because of course it was!
It was, after all, far more interesting to believe that Magnus Chane had just chased after his girlfriend's best friend for a "private conversation" than to assume anything remotely normal.
And on the forums? Well, let's just say the story was already improving itself.
***
By the time Magnus actually managed to explain what he wanted — fully, completely, with context, and far more detail than he had ever intended to say out loud — he was red from the tips of his ears down to his collar.
Across the table, Sofia had gone very, very still. Not the usual teasing stillness. Not the calculating one either. Just… frozen.
Magnus shifted in his seat, suddenly hyper-aware of everything—the hum of the café, the clink of cups, the fact that he had just said all of that out loud to Alex's best friend.
"…So," he finished weakly, staring very intently at his coffee. "Yeah."
Silence. He risked a glance up. Sofia was staring at him. Not blinking. Not speaking. Just… staring. Like he had personally shattered her understanding of reality.
Ten seconds passed. Then thirty. Then a full minute.
Magnus began to regret every decision that had led him here.
At around the ninety-second mark, he reached for his coffee, desperate for something to do… and took a large sip. That was when Sofia finally spoke.
"You know," she said slowly, "I used to think you must have saved the universe in your past life to land a girl like Alex—"
Magnus choked. Actually choked. Coffee went down the wrong pipe as he doubled over, coughing. But Sofia wasn't done.
"—but no," she continued, watching him like he was a particularly fascinating specimen, "now I think it was Alex who saved the multiverse in her past life…"
Magnus wheezed, clutching his chest.
"…because you're about as real as Santa Claus," she finished.
He nearly died. Again. Coughing, spluttering, eyes watering — Magnus struggled to recover while Sofia just sat there, her expression a mess of emotions she didn't even try to hide. Exasperation. Amusement. Disbelief. Something softer, too — fondness, maybe.
And underneath it all… a faint, unmistakable thread of envy.
"Y-you're done?" Magnus rasped eventually.
Sofia exhaled, dragging a hand down her face.
"…I have so many questions," she muttered. "And none of them are appropriate to ask in public."
Magnus groaned. "Look, can you just—"
"Fine," she cut in, holding up a hand. "I'll help."
He froze. Hope sparked. Then immediately dimmed when she added:
"But you owe me."
Of course he did!
Magnus eyed her warily. "…Owe you what?"
Sofia smiled, bright and dangerous.
"A blank favor," she said. "One I can cash in anytime."
Magnus's expression tightened. "That sounds—"
"It'll be something you can do," she interrupted smoothly. "Nothing immoral. Nothing unethical."
A beat.
"…And it won't annoy Alex," she added, then paused. "Too much."
Magnus hesitated. That pause did not inspire confidence.
Sofia leaned forward slightly.
"Take the deal," she said sweetly, "or I walk."
He panicked. "F-fine! Okay! Just—just promise I won't get sent to the doghouse for this."
Sofia actually considered that — seriously — for a concerning amount of time.
"…I can only promise to try," she said at last.
Magnus swallowed. Hard.
In the back of his mind, a quiet voice whispered that he really should have just called his mom. Awkward as that conversation might be, there would have been no social repercussions.
Before he could rethink his life choices further, his phone buzzed. He blinked, pulling it out.
Alex.
Multiple texts.
He looked up. Sofia followed his gaze, then rolled her eyes.
"Lemme guess," she said. "She's already calling you back?"
Magnus didn't answer. Didn't need to. Sofia waved him off.
"Go on," she said. "Run back to your girlfriend. I'll text you what you need."
Relief flooded through him.
"Thank you!" he said, already standing.
Then he was gone. Already running. Sofia watched him leave, shaking her head in disbelief.
"And remember," she called after him, raising her voice just enough, "you owe me a blank favor!"
He didn't look back. Sofia huffed out a laugh, then leaned back in her chair. A second later, she pulled out her phone. Tapped. Scrolled.
The forums were already active. New material in that thread where everyone followed Alex's love life like fans watching some trending K-drama. Speculation spreading. She skimmed through it, eyes gleaming.
Then, slowly…
Sofia started typing. Smiling to herself as she did.
***
Magnus hit the ground face-first. He'd failed one of Tony's stealth exercises. Again!
And not in a subtle, "close enough, maybe with effort" kind of way. No. This was a full, spectacular, leaves-crunching, branch-snapping, dignity-shattering failure. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked like it had personally taken offense to his existence.
Tony didn't even try to hide the disappointment.
"Tragic," the raccoon said, perched neatly on a low branch above him. "A fall so loud it echoes through the soul. And also the quad. And possibly three neighboring zip codes."
Magnus groaned into the dirt.
"I was quiet," he mumbled.
"You were many things," Tony corrected. "Quiet was not among them."
"…Okay," he said carefully. "In my defense—"
"—there is no defense," Tony cut in, grave and absolute.
Magnus pushed himself up onto his elbows, brushing leaves out of his hair with all the dignity of a man who had long since abandoned dignity.
"You moved like thunder," Tony continued. "Like a fridge falling down stairs. Like—"
He paused. Sniffed the air. "…Is that garlic bread?"
Magnus stared at him. Tony shook himself violently.
"Focus," he muttered. "We are discussing your many failures."
"I'm improving," Magnus insisted weakly.
Tony tilted his head. Then, very deliberately, he leaned over the branch… and dropped a small pebble. It hit Magnus square on the shoulder. Magnus flinched.
Tony pointed at him. "See? Awareness of surroundings: zero. Reaction time: acceptable, but late. Survival chances in raccoon society: you would be a cautionary tale."
"I'm not trying to survive in raccoon society!"
Tony hopped down, landing silently in front of him.
"That," he said gravely, "is where you are wrong!"
The raccoon began pacing in a small, thoughtful circle.
"For many nights, I have observed," he began, voice slipping into that theatrical cadence. "Watched. Listened. Judged silently—except when I laughed at your failures. Which was often."
"Thanks."
"And I have reached a conclusion."
Magnus braced himself. Tony stopped. Turned. Looked him dead in the eye.
"I have discovered the root of your incompetence!"
Magnus blinked.
"…Because I'm human and you're trying to make me a raccoon?" he offered.
Tony ignored him. Completely.
"The problem," the raccoon declared, pointing a tiny, accusatory paw at him, "is that you have lost touch with your senses."
Magnus blinked. "…What?"
Tony nodded sagely.
"Your eyes do not see," he said. "Your ears do not hear. Your nose—" he leaned forward, sniffed Magnus aggressively—" detects nothing of value. There was a perfectly edible sandwich three trash bins ago."
"That's not—"
"Your paws—hands—flail without purpose," Tony continued. "Your body moves without listening to the ground. You exist… but you do not feel."
Magnus stared at him.
"…I feel like I just ate dirt."
"Exactly!" Tony snapped, delighted. "You notice only after failure. A true practitioner feels before the mistake."
He puffed up, clearly pleased with himself.
"Stealth is not invisibility," he went on. "It is harmony. Balance. Becoming one with surroundings. Like leaf. Like shadow. Like—"
He froze. Eyes locking onto something behind Magnus.
"…Is that a coin?"
Before Magnus could react, Tony darted past him, skidding across the pavement to pounce on a glinting piece of metal. The profound moment shattered instantly.
"…You were saying?" Magnus called.
Tony batted the coin once. Twice. Then, reluctantly, he returned, dropping it at Magnus's feet like an offering.
"Where was I?" he muttered.
"Senses. Harmony. Me being terrible."
"Ah, yes." Tony nodded. "You are terrible!"
"Great."
"But!" Tony raised a paw. "This is good news."
Magnus narrowed his eyes. "…How is that good news?"
"Because it means we can fix you."
"That doesn't sound reassuring."
Tony ignored him.
"We return," he announced grandly, "to the beginning."
Magnus felt a chill. "…Define 'beginning.'"
Tony's eyes gleamed. "Back to basics."
Magnus groaned. "No, no, no—"
"Your training," Tony continued, pacing again, "will no longer be about stealth."
Magnus paused. Hope flickered. "…Oh?"
"It will be about your five senses."
Hope died. "Oh no."
Tony nodded solemnly.
"You will learn to see as the night sees," he said. "Hear as the wind hears. Smell as the—"
He paused. Sniffed again.
"…there is definitely food nearby."
"Tony."
"Focus," Tony hissed at himself, shaking his head. "Yes. Smell. Important. Underrated."
He resumed pacing. "You will learn to see without looking. Hear without listening. Smell without sniffing—though sniffing helps. Touch without grasping. Taste without—"
He paused. "…Actually, taste requires tasting. That one is straightforward."
Magnus rubbed his face. "Tony—"
"Only when you master your senses," the raccoon declared, ignoring him, "will you achieve true inner peace."
Magnus blinked. "…I thought we weren't going for inner peace."
Tony froze. Slowly turned. Raised a paw.
"Shh," he said.
A beat. "…Details."
Magnus dragged a hand down his face.
"This is my life now," he muttered.
Tony hopped back onto the branch, settling into what he clearly believed was a wise, contemplative pose.
"Tomorrow," he said, "we begin with sight."
"Oh boy."
"You will observe," Tony continued. "Not glance. Not look. Observe! The flicker of light. The shift of shadow. The twitch of preys—uh, I mean, students."
"Comforting distinction."
"Then hearing," Tony went on. "Every step. Every breath. The secrets carried in the rustle of leaves and the whispers of—"
He tilted his head. "…was that a chip bag?"
Magnus didn't even react this time. Tony shook himself again.
"Yes. Hearing," he repeated firmly. "Then smell. Then touch. Then taste."
Magnus frowned. "…Why taste?"
Tony looked at him like he'd just asked why breathing mattered. "How else will you know if something you find on the ground is edible?"
"I'm not eating random things off the ground!"
Tony scoffed.
"Closed-minded," he said, pointing a paw at his head. "This is why you struggle!"
Magnus let out a long, suffering sigh. Somewhere along the way, he'd stopped questioning how his life had gotten here. Now he just… endured it.
Tony watched him for a moment. Then, unexpectedly, his tone softened.
"Kid," he said quietly. "You think too much."
Magnus glanced up. Tony met his gaze, unusually focused.
"You move like your head is louder than the world," he continued. "Noise inside. Fear. Doubt. Plans."
Magnus didn't answer.
"Shut that off," Tony said. "Even a little. Let the world in instead."
A pause. "…Also, you smell like stress!"
Magnus snorted despite himself. "Thanks."
Tony nodded, satisfied.
Then…
"Oh!"
He whipped around, bolting toward a nearby bush.
"Chip bag!" he declared triumphantly.
Magnus watched him disappear into the leaves. Silence settled over the campus again. Cool air. Distant sounds. The faint hum of lights overhead.
For a moment…
Magnus just stood there. Breathing. Listening. Feeling. Not perfectly. Not even well. But… a little more than before.
"…Huh," he muttered.
From the bush, Tony's muffled voice rang out:
"Do not 'huh' without me! That is a shared enlightenment moment!"
Magnus huffed a laugh.
Yeah. This was definitely his life now!
And somehow…
Between the chaos, the training, the looming deadlines, the System, the rumors, the everything…
It almost made sense.