RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS:

Riddle had just left the library after spending several hours reviewing documents for an upcoming dorm inspection. His arms were heavy with books, his posture straight as always, but his steps were lighter than usual — he was looking forward to meeting you at the usual spot near the rose maze. You had promised to help him with taking care of hedgehogs.

As he turned the corner toward the quieter path behind the hedge maze, he froze.

Two shadows stretched long across the moonlit grass. One was unmistakably yours — the familiar silhouette of your posture, the way you held your head. The other belonged to a taller, broader figure. They were standing far too close. The stranger’s shadow leaned in, and yours tilted up toward them in a way that looked… intimate. Almost flirtatious.

Riddle’s heart gave a painful lurch.

“Y/N?” he called out, voice sharper than he intended.

The moment his voice rang out, both shadows jolted. Without a word, they bolted — disappearing behind the thick hedges in a frantic scramble of footsteps.

Riddle stood frozen for half a second, books slipping slightly in his grip. His mind raced. That was you. He was certain of it. The height, the shape, even the way you moved when startled — it was you.

A hot, ugly feeling twisted in his chest. Jealousy? Betrayal? He didn’t know what to call it, only that it burned. His hands trembled as he clutched his books tighter. You had promised to meet him. You had been acting normal all day. Had he missed something? Had he been too strict again? Too demanding?

He took a shaky step forward, then another. Part of him wanted to chase after the shadows immediately — to demand answers, to drag the truth out. But his feet felt heavy. The thought of catching you in the arms of someone else made his stomach turn.

Riddle stood there for a long minute, breathing uneven, cheeks flushed with a mix of anger and hurt. Then he turned on his heel and marched straight toward Ramshackle.

He found you sitting on the porch steps, Grim curled up beside you, looking perfectly normal as you scrolled through your phone.

“Y/N,” he said, voice tight.

You looked up, surprised. “Riddle? You’re early — I was just about to head over to meet you.”

He stopped a few feet away, fists clenched at his sides. “I came over earlier to speak to you of an important matter.”

His serious tone made you straighten your posture and slightly furrow your brows. “Oh, did something bad happened?”

He was silent for a few seconds. “I saw you behind the rose maze with someone else. You two were very close to each other. When I called your name, both of you ran.”

Your eyes widened. “What? Riddle, I’ve been here for the last twenty minutes. I haven’t left Ramshackle since dinner.”

He stared at you, searching your face for any sign of a lie. But you looked at him only with genuine confusion.

“…You weren’t there?” he asked, quieter now.

You shook your head. “No. I swear. I’ve been trying to get Grim to stop eating my rice.”

Grim grumbled something about “not my fault it tastes good,” but you ignored him.

Riddle’s shoulders slowly dropped. He pressed a hand to his forehead, letting out a shaky breath.

“Then… it wasn’t you.”

He explained what he had seen — the two shadows, how close they looked, how they fled the moment he called out. As he spoke, your expression shifted from confusion to understanding.

“Oh… that sounds like one of those illusion spells,” you said gently. “Someone must have cast it to mess with me. I’ve had a few people pull stupid pranks lately because of that incident with the hedgehogs last week.”

Riddle’s face went from pale to bright red in seconds. He had jumped to the worst conclusion. He had doubted you — you, the person who had stayed by his side even after his Overblot, who put up with his strictness and still chose him every day.

“I… I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice small. “I saw your silhouette and I… I thought—”

You stood up and stepped closer, gently taking his trembling hands in yours.

“Hey. It’s okay. You were worried. That’s not a bad thing.” You squeezed his fingers. “But next time, maybe ask me first before assuming I’m flirting with random guy in the maze?”

Riddle let out a weak, embarrassed laugh, nodding. “I will. I promise.”

He mentally noted to himself to ask Trey and Cater to find the so called prankster so he could deal with it.

The Heartslabyul lounge was deathly silent.

Riddle stood in the center of the room, arms crossed so tightly his knuckles were white. Trey and Cater had done their job efficiently — the culprit, a third-year student, now stood before him with his hands behind his back, looking far less smug than he had when the prank was first discovered.

“You used an illusion spell to create false shadows of the Prefect,” Riddle said, voice dangerously low and precise. “You made it appear as though they were flirting with another person. You did this specifically to cause me distress and damage my relationship. Is that correct?”

The student shifted his weight, trying for a cocky grin. “It was just a harmless joke. Lighten up—”

“Harmless?” Riddle’s voice cracked like a whip. His face flushed scarlet as the anger he tried so hard to control surged forward. “You deliberately targeted my relationship with the Prefect! You made me doubt the person I trust the most in this school! You should be ashamed of yourself!”

Trey stepped forward slightly, voice calm. “Riddle, maybe we can—”

“Off With Your Head!”

The bright red heart-shaped collar snapped around the boy’s neck neck in an instant, sealing his magic. The student yelped, hands flying up to the collar as his magic vanished.

Riddle’s breathing was sharp and fast, eyes blazing. “You will apologize to the Prefect and write a formal letter of apology to both of us. And you will spend the next two weeks tending every single rosebush in the garden — by hand, without magic — under my direct supervision. If I see even one crooked stem, the collar stays on for a month.”

Cater winced from the sidelines, whispering to Trey, “He’s really mad this time…”

The student opened his mouth to protest, but Riddle’s glare shut him up instantly.

“Do you have any idea how much you hurt them?” Riddle continued, voice rising despite himself. “How much you hurt me? I almost believed — I actually thought —” He cut himself off, fists shaking at his sides. “We do not tolerate cruelty disguised as jokes. Is that understood?”

The student nodded quickly, all bravado gone. “Y-Yes, housewarden…”

Riddle took a slow, deliberate breath, trying to rein in the hot temper that still sometimes slipped past his control. He had been working on patience. He really had. But when it came to you… some lines could not be crossed.

“Good,” he said, voice quieter now but still firm. “Trey, Cater — make sure he starts his punishment immediately. And you… if you ever try something like this again, I won’t be so lenient.”

As the three of them left the lounge, Riddle remained standing in the center of the room, shoulders still tense. He closed his eyes and exhaled shakily.

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR:

The afternoon sun filtered through the leaves of the botanical garden as Leona made his way back toward the Savanaclaw dorm. He’d spent the last few hours napping in his favorite shady spot, tail lazily flicking at the occasional fly. His mood was decent — not great, but decent. He was even looking forward to seeing you later. You had mentioned something about meeting up after your last class.

As he turned onto the quieter path behind the greenhouse, something caught his eye.

Two shadows stretched long across the grass.

One was unmistakably yours — the familiar shape of your posture, the way you held yourself. The other belonged to some random taller figure. They were standing way too close. The stranger’s shadow leaned in, and yours tilted toward them in a way that looked far too intimate. Like flirting.

Leona stopped dead in his tracks. His ears flattened.

“…Oi. Herbivore.”

The moment his voice cut through the air, both shadows jolted. Without hesitation, they bolted — disappearing behind the thick bushes in a frantic scramble of footsteps.

Leona stood there, staring at the empty spot where the shadows had been. His tail lashed once, hard. A low growl rumbled in his chest.

That was you. He was sure of it. The height, the movement, even the way you shifted when startled — it was you. The ugly twist in his gut was immediate. Jealousy, sharp and hot, mixed with something colder. Betrayal? He hated how quickly it hit him. He wasn’t the type to get possessive, but the thought of you sneaking around behind his back made his blood boil.

“Tch.” He clicked his tongue, fists clenching at his sides. “Running away the second I call you? Real mature.”

He took a step forward, instincts screaming at him to chase the shadows down and drag the truth out. But his feet stopped after two steps. What was the point? If you were really doing something behind his back, confronting you right now while he was pissed off would only make things worse.

Leona turned on his heel and headed straight for Ramshackle instead, with jaw tight, tail still lashing behind him.

He found you sitting on the porch steps, Grim sprawled across your lap like a lazy rug. You looked up when you heard him approaching, smiling like nothing was wrong.

“Leona? You’re early. I thought you were napping until dinner.”

Leona stopped a few feet away, arms crossed, ears still flat. “I saw you behind the greenhouse with some guy. You two were real cozy. When I called your name, both of you ran like guilty criminals.”

You blinked, genuinely confused. “What? Leona, I really have no idea what you’re talking about but I’ve been here for the last hour. Grim’s been using me as a pillow the whole time.”

Grim yawned. “Yeah, and you’re comfy. Stop moving.”

Leona stared at you, searching your face. He found only honest bewilderment on your face.

“…It wasn’t you?” he asked, voice lower now.

You shook your head. “No. I swear. I haven’t left Ramshackle since lunch.”

Leona’s tail stopped lashing. The anger drained out of him in a rush, leaving behind a heavy, uncomfortable guilt. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply.

“Then it seems like some bastard used an illusion spell,” he muttered. “Made shadows that looked like you and some random guy. Close enough to look like you were flirting.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh… that sounds like revenge from that incident last week. I didn’t know anyone was still mad about that.”

Leona’s eyes narrowed and didn’t waste any time.

He simply disappeared for about twenty minutes after leaving Ramshackle, then returned with a very pale, very quiet second-year Savanaclaw student trailing behind him like a scolded kitten. The student had his collar grabbed firmly in Leona’s hand, feet barely touching the ground as he was dragged along by the scruff of his uniform.

You were still sitting on the porch steps when they appeared. Your eyes widened in shock.

“Leona…? What— who is that?”

Leona didn’t yell. He didn’t need to.

He dropped the student unceremoniously in front of you on the Ramshackle porch, tail still flicking with clear irritation.

“Explain.” Leona said flatly, voice low and dangerous.

The student stammered, eyes darting between you and Leona. “I-I just wanted to get back at the Prefect for the incident last week… It was supposed to be a funny illusion prank. I didn’t think Leona-senpai would actually see it—”

Leona’s ears flattened. “You didn’t think?” He let out a short, humorless laugh. “You made fake shadow of my herbivore getting cozy with some random asshole. You made me think they were sneaking around behind my back. And you thought that was funny? You’re quite literally asking your ass to get beaten.”

The student swallowed hard. “It was just a joke—”

“Joke’s over.”

Leona’s grip on the boy’s collar tightened, lifting him a few inches higher so they were eye-level. His voice dropped into that lazy, threatening drawl he used when he was truly pissed.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen, brat. You’re gonna apologize to the Prefect. Right now. On your knees. And you’re gonna mean it.”

The student dropped to his knees the second Leona released him, mumbling a shaky apology while staring at the ground. “I-I’m sorry, Prefect… It was stupid. I didn’t mean to cause that much trouble…”

You were still processing everything, voice quiet but firm. “You really scared me. And you made Leona think I was… doing something behind his back. That wasn’t funny at all.”

Leona watched with narrowed eyes, arms crossed. “Louder. And look at them when you say it.”

After the apology was properly delivered, Leona’s tail gave one last irritated flick.

“Good. Now for your punishment.”

He leaned down, voice calm but ice-cold.

“You’re on grunt duty for the rest of the year. Every afternoon you handle all the chores Ruggie usually does. Every night you’re cleaning the lounge until it sparkles. If I catch even one complaint — I’ll personally ‘roast’ you until you remember why you don’t mess with what’s mine.”

The boy nodded frantically, face pale. Leona’s expression didn’t soften, but his voice dropped just a fraction. “And if you ever pull something like this again — illusion or not — I won’t bother with chores. I’ll just make sure you regret ever being born in Sunset Savannah. Got it?”

“Yes, Leona-senpai…”

Leona waved a dismissive hand. “Now, get lost. And don’t let me see your face unless you’re working.”

As the boy scrambled away, Leona finally turned back to you. The anger was still simmering, but it had shifted into more protective. He dropped down beside you on the porch steps with a heavy sigh, slumping against your side.

“…Handled it,” he muttered, voice gruff. “Bastard won’t try that shit again.”

You were still staring in the direction the prankster had run, a little dazed. “Leona… was it really necessary to be that harsh? I didn’t even know what was happening at first.”

Leona huffed, but his arm came around you anyway, pulling you closer.

“Tch. He deserved it.” He paused, then added quieter, almost reluctantly, “The thought of you with someone else pissed me off more than I expected.”

AZUL ASHENGROTTO:

Azul had just finished his last class of the day, two files tucked neatly under his arm as he walked the quieter path behind the greenhouse toward the Hall of Mirrors. His mind was already running through the evening’s schedule — reviewing new deals, checking inventory, perhaps stealing a quiet moment with you later if you were free.

Then he saw them.

Two shadows stretched long across the grass in the fading afternoon light.

One was unmistakably yours — the familiar silhouette, the way you held yourself. The other belonged to a taller, broader figure. They were standing far too close. The stranger’s shadow leaned in, and yours tilted toward them in a way that looked unmistakably intimate. Almost flirtatious.

Azul stopped mid-step. His grip tightened on the folder until the papers crinkled.

“Y/N?” he called out, voice sharper than he intended.

The moment his voice rang out, both shadows jolted. Without a word, they bolted — disappearing behind the thick hedges in a frantic scramble of footsteps.

Azul stood frozen, heart hammering against his ribs. That was you. He was certain of it. The height, the posture, even the slight tilt of the head when startled — it was you. And you had run with someone else.

A cold, ugly feeling twisted in his chest. Sharp and immediate jealousy, mixed with the old familiar sting of insecurity. Had he misread everything? Had you grown tired of his calculated nature? Had someone else offered you something simpler, warmer, less… contractual?

His hands trembled slightly as he adjusted his glasses, trying to regain control. He’s Azul Ashengrotto. He does not lose composure over shadows. But the image refused to leave his mind — you, leaning in close to someone who wasn’t him.

He didn’t chase the shadows. Chasing after them would be undignified, and right now his pride was the only thing keeping him from spiraling. Instead, he turned on his heel and walked straight to Ramshackle.

He found you sitting on the porch steps, Grim sprawled lazily across your lap as you scrolled through your phone.

“Y/N,” he said, voice carefully controlled but tighter than usual.

You looked up, surprised by his tone. “Azul? You’re pretty early. Is everything okay?”

He stopped a few feet away, adjusting his glasses again — a nervous tic he couldn’t quite suppress.

“I saw you behind the greenhouse with someone else. You two were very close. When I called your name, both of you ran.”

Your eyes widened in genuine shock. “What? Azul, I’ve been here for the last forty minutes. Grim’s been using me as a bed the whole time.”

Grim yawned. “Yeah, and you’re warm. Stop moving.”

Azul stared at you, searching your face for any sign of deception. There was none — only honest confusion and a touch of worry.

“…It wasn’t you?” he asked, quieter now.

You shook your head. “No. I swear. I haven’t left Ramshackle since lunch.”

Azul’s shoulders slowly dropped. The cold knot in his chest loosened, but the lingering discomfort remained. He had jumped to conclusions. He had let his old fears — of being replaced, of not being enough — cloud his judgment.

“I see,” he murmured, removing his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. “Then it was an illusion spell. Someone seeking revenge on you, most likely.”

You stood up, gently moving Grim aside. “Azul… you really thought it was me?”

He hesitated, then gave a small, tight nod. “For a moment, yes. I apologize. My reaction was unbecoming. I let old insecurities get the better of me.”

You stepped closer and took his hand. “Hey. It’s okay to feel that way. But I’m not going anywhere. Especially not with some random guy.”

Azul let out a shaky breath, then pulled you into a careful hug, arms wrapping around you with surprising gentleness.

“I know,” he whispered against your hair. “But the thought of losing you… even hypothetically… is more distressing than I care to admit.”

He held you for a long moment, then pulled back just enough to look at you properly.

“I will find whoever cast that spell,” he said, voice regaining its usual calculated calm. “And I will make sure they understand that targeting you — or our relationship — is a very poor business decision.”

It took Azul less than forty minutes to find the culprit.

Jade and Floyd had been dispatched the moment he left Ramshackle. A few quiet words, a cold smile, and the twins vanished into the campus like shadows. They returned dragging a third-year Octavinelle student — the same student who had been holding a grudge ever since Azul rejected his “business proposal” last month and exposed his sloppy contract work in front of the entire Lounge.

The student was pale and sweating when the twins deposited him in the back room of the Mostro Lounge. Azul was already waiting, seated behind his desk with perfect posture. At least on the surface.

The moment the door clicked shut, the mask cracked.

“You,” Azul said, voice low and dangerously calm at first. “You thought it was clever to cast an illusion of the Prefect flirting with someone else? You wanted to make me doubt them?”

The guy tried to smile nervously. “It was just a little revenge prank, Ashengrotto. Nothing serious—”

“Nothing serious?”

Azul’s voice snapped like a whip. He shot up from his chair so fast it scraped loudly against the floor. The polite, calculated businessman vanished in an instant.

His sky-blue eyes were wide and manic as he slammed both hands on the desk, leaning forward with a sharp, unhinged laugh that made student flinch.

“You dared to mess with what’s mine?! You tried to plant doubts in my relationship with the Prefect — the one person who actually sees me as more than just a scheming man?!”

He laughed again, higher and more frantic, one hand coming up to tug roughly at his own silver hair.

“How stupid can you be?! Did you really think I wouldn’t find out? Did you think I’d just sit there politely while you tried to ruin the only good thing I have?!”

Jade watched with a calm, amused smile from the side. Floyd leaned against the wall, grinning like he was watching his favorite show.

Azul’s breathing was ragged now, the polished persona completely gone.

“You insignificant little fool,” he hissed, voice raw and venomous. “I should squeeze every last drop of value out of you until there’s nothing left. I should make you sign a contract that binds you to clean the Lounge floors with your tongue for the rest of your miserable school life!”

He paced behind the desk, still pulling at his hair, eyes wild.

“But no. That would be too easy. Instead, you’re going to apologize to the Prefect. On your knees. In front of the entire Lounge during peak hours. And then you’re going to work off every single thaumark of emotional damage you caused — with interest. Jade, Floyd — make sure he understands the terms. Thoroughly.”

Jade smiled sweetly. “Of course, Azul.”

Floyd cracked his knuckles with a delighted giggle. “Hee hee~ This is gonna be fun~”

The student looked like he was about to faint.

Azul finally stopped pacing. He took a deep, shaky breath, forcing his hands to stop trembling as he smoothed his hair back into place. The manic edge in his eyes slowly dulled, though the anger still simmered underneath.

“Get him out of my sight,” he said, voice returning to something closer to his usual tone, though still tight. “And make sure he never even thinks about looking in the Prefect’s direction again.”

As the twins dragged a whimpering student away, Azul sank back into his chair, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes. He had lost control again. But the thought of someone deliberately trying to hurt you — to make you look unfaithful, to make him doubt the one person who made him feel like he was enough — had pushed him past the point of politeness.

KALIM AL-ASIM:

The late afternoon sun was still warm as Kalim made his way back from Scarabia, a bright smile on his face and a small basket of fresh dates swinging from his hand. He had spent the last hour helping Jamil organize the next dorm event, but his thoughts kept drifting to you. You had promised to meet him near the fountain after your last class so the two of you could watch the sunset together. He was already planning all the fun things you could do but as he turned onto the quieter path behind the main courtyard, something odd caught his eye.

Two shadows stretched long across the grass in the golden light.

One was clearly yours — the familiar shape of your posture, the way you stood. The other belonged to a taller, broader figure. They were standing very close. Too close. The stranger’s shadow leaned in, and yours tilted up toward them in a way that looked… flirty? Like they were sharing a secret or about to…

Kalim stopped walking, head tilting in confusion. His usual bright smile faltered.

“Y/N…?” he called out, voice loud and puzzled. “Is that you? Who’s that with you?”

The moment his voice rang out, both shadows jolted. Without a word, they turned and ran — disappearing behind the thick hedges in a frantic scramble of footsteps.

Kalim blinked, staring at the empty spot where the shadows had been. His heart gave an uncomfortable little twist.

“…Huh?” He took a few steps forward, basket swinging forgotten at his side. “Y/N? Wait— why are you running?”

No answer. The path was silent again.

Kalim stood there for a long moment, brow furrowed in genuine confusion. He wasn’t angry yet, only simply lost. Why would you run away the second he called your name? And who was that person with you? You had seemed so close to them. Almost like… flirting?

The thought made his stomach feel weird. He trusted you. You were one of the brightest parts of his life at Night Raven College. You always smiled at his parties, listened to his stories, and never treated him like he was just the rich, cheerful heir. So why would you…?

He shook his head quickly, trying to push the uncomfortable feeling away. No, no — there had to be a good explanation. Maybe it wasn’t even you! Shadows could be tricky, right? Especially with all the magic flying around campus.

Still, the image wouldn’t leave his mind.

Kalim turned around and headed straight for Ramshackle, walking faster than usual. When he arrived, he found you sitting on the porch steps with Grim curled up beside you, looking perfectly normal as you scratched behind Grim’s ears.

“Y/N!” he called, waving the basket with forced cheerfulness even though his smile felt a little shaky. “There you are!“

You looked up, surprised by how quickly he had appeared. “Kalim? You’re early. I thought we were meeting at the fountain.”

Kalim stopped a few feet away, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Yeah… I was on my way there, but I saw two shadows behind the courtyard. One looked like you, and the other was some guy. You two were really close… like, really close. When I called your name, you both ran away.”

He tilted his head, red eyes wide and genuinely confused rather than accusatory. “Was that you? Why did you run? Did I interrupt something? I didn’t mean to scare you…”

You stared at him, completely taken aback. “Kalim, I’ve been here the whole time. Grim’s been demanding belly rubs for the last half hour. I haven’t left Ramshackle since lunch.”

Grim yawned. “Yeah, and you’re a good pillow. Don’t move.”

Kalim’s shoulders visibly relaxed, but the confused, sad look remained. “So… it wasn’t you?”

You shook your head. “No. I swear. Someone must have used an illusion spell. Probably revenge for that prank war last week. I had no idea anyone was still mad about it.”

Kalim let out a long breath, the tension draining out of him. He sat down heavily on the porch steps beside you, setting the basket of dates between you both.

“Oh… okay. That makes sense.” He was quiet for a moment, then added softly, “For a second I got really confused. It looked like you were… flirting with someone. And when you ran, I thought maybe I did something wrong. Or maybe you didn’t want to see me today.”

He smiled, but it was smaller than usual. “I know I can be a lot sometimes. I just… I really like spending time with you. The thought that you might be with someone else made my chest feel weird.“

You leaned against his side, resting your head on his shoulder. “Kalim, I’m not going anywhere. Especially not with some random guy. You’re the one I want to spend time with.”

Kalim’s smile brightened a little, though the lingering confusion was still there. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer, resting his cheek on top of your head.

“Okay… good.” He was quiet again, then added in a softer voice, “If someone really did cast that spell to hurt you, that’s not okay. I don’t like when people try to make my friends sad. But… I’m glad it wasn’t real.”

He offered you a date from the basket, eyes warm and hopeful once more.

“Want one? They’re really sweet. Just like you.”

Kalim stayed on the porch with you for a while longer, sharing the sweet dates from the basket and chatting about anything and everything — the lanterns he wanted to release later, the new recipe he wanted to try, funny situation in Scarabia.

But even as he smiled and laughed, a small, uncomfortable knot stayed in his chest. Someone had tried to hurt you. Someone had used magic to make fake shadows that looked like you were flirting with another person — specifically to make him doubt you. That wasn’t just a silly prank. That was mean. And Kalim didn’t like when people were mean to his friends.

After you went inside to help Grim with something, Kalim stayed sitting on the steps for a few minutes, swinging his legs and thinking. His usual bright energy felt a little dimmer.

Then he stood up, brushed the crumbs off his clothes, and headed straight back to Scarabia with a determined little bounce in his step.

“Jamil!” he called cheerfully as he entered the dorm lounge. “Jamil, are you here?”

Jamil appeared from the kitchen area, wiping his hands on a towel and already looking mildly exasperated. “What is it this time, Kalim?”

Kalim plopped down on one of the cushions, patting the spot beside him. “Sit with me for a second! Something happened today and I need your advice.”

Jamil sighed but sat down anyway, crossing his arms. “What kind of ‘something’?”

“So I was walking back from the meeting earlier, right? And I saw these two shadows — one looked exactly like Y/N, and the other was some random guy. They were standing really close, like… super close. Almost like they were flirting!” Kalim’s voice stayed bright, but there was a small, confused frown on his face. “When I called out to Y/N, both shadows just ran away really fast. But when I went to Ramshackle, Y/N was there the whole time. They said it must have been an illusion spell from someone who’s still mad about the prank war last week.”

Jamil’s expression shifted from mild annoyance to sharp focus. “An illusion spell specifically designed to make it look like the Prefect was being unfaithful… and it targeted you.”

Kalim nodded, swinging his legs. “Yeah. It made me feel really weird for a minute. Like maybe I did something wrong, or maybe Y/N didn’t want to see me anymore. But then Y/N explained it wasn’t real, so I feel better now! Still… it’s not nice to do that to someone, right?”

Jamil was quiet for a moment, eyes narrowing. “No. It isn’t.”

Kalim tilted his head, looking up at Jamil with that same innocent, hopeful expression. “So… do you think we should find out who did it? I don’t want to punish them super harshly or anything — maybe they were just really upset about that. But I also don’t want them to do it again. Especially not to Y/N.”

Jamil let out a slow breath, already calculating. “Leave it to me. I’ll look into it quietly. If it really was revenge for the prank war, I can handle it without causing a scene. You don’t need to get involved.”

Kalim’s face lit up with a bright smile. “Really? Thank you, Jamil! You’re the best! Just… make sure they know it wasn’t okay, alright? And maybe tell them that if they’re mad about something, they can just talk to me instead of doing mean magic tricks.”

Jamil gave a small nod, though his eyes held a sharper glint. “I’ll take care of it.”

Kalim beamed and jumped to his feet, already back to his usual sunny self. “Great! Then let’s go prepare for tonight’s sunset watching with Y/N! I want to release the prettiest lanterns for them!”

As Kalim bounced off toward his room to gather supplies, Jamil watched him go with a long-suffering sigh.

“…Always too forgiving,” he muttered under his breath. “But if someone thinks they can mess with the Prefect and get away with it… they’re going to learn otherwise.”

VIL SCHOENHEIT:

The late afternoon light filtered through the tall windows of the alchemy laboratory as Vil finished his lesson. His posture was impeccable, blonde hair perfectly styled, and his uniform spotless despite the hour spent brewing complex potions. He had been looking forward to meeting you near the Pomefiore courtyard — you had promised to help him choose new accessories for an upcoming photoshoot. As he walked the quieter path behind the greenhouse, something caught his eye.

Two shadows stretched long across the grass in the golden light.

One was unmistakably yours — the familiar silhouette, the way you held yourself. The other belonged to a taller, broader figure. They were standing far too close. The stranger’s shadow leaned in, and yours tilted toward them in a way that looked unmistakably flirtatious.

Vil stopped mid-step. His perfectly manicured nails dug into his palms.

“Y/N?” he called out, voice sharp and laced with confusion.

The moment his voice rang out, both shadows jolted. Without a word, they bolted — disappearing behind the thick hedges in a frantic scramble of footsteps.

Vil stood frozen, heart hammering against his ribs with a cold, ugly feeling he rarely allowed himself to feel. Jealousy. Sharp, immediate, and deeply unpleasant. His mind raced through every possibility: Had he been too critical lately? Had you grown tired of his high standards? Had someone else offered you something simpler, less demanding?

His fists clenched at his sides, nails pressing crescent marks into his skin. He maintained his composed exterior — chin high, expression cool — but inside, the anger simmered. How dare someone try to tarnish what was his? How dare you run?

He was about to take a step forward when a familiar voice called from behind him.

“Roi du Poison~”

Rook appeared at his side, eyes gleaming with knowing amusement. “I saw the shadows as well. A rather crude illusion spell, non? Someone seeking petty revenge on our dear Trickster, I suspect. The form was sloppy — the shadow’s posture was slightly off, and the movement lacked your beloved’s natural grace.”

Vil’s shoulders relaxed a fraction, though his voice remained icy. “You’re certain?”

Rook smiled brightly. “Positive. I’ve observed our Trickster far too closely to be fooled by such amateur work. Shall I track down the culprit for you? Or would you prefer to handle this yourself?”

Vil exhaled slowly, forcing his fists to unclench. “Find them. Discreetly. I want to know who thought they could play games with what belongs to me.”

Rook bowed theatrically. “As you wish, my queen.”

As Rook disappeared into the shadows, Vil turned on his heel and walked straight to Ramshackle, each step measured but tense. He found you sitting on the porch steps, looking perfectly normal as you scrolled through your phone.

“Y/N,” he said, voice carefully controlled.

You looked up, surprised by his tone. “Vil? You’re early. Is everything alright?”

He stopped a few feet away, arms crossed tightly. “I saw two shadows behind the greenhouse. One resembled you quite closely. The other was a stranger. You appeared to be… very intimate with them. When I called your name, both of you ran.”

Your eyes widened in genuine shock. “What? Vil, I’ve been here the whole time. I haven’t left Ramshackle since my last class.”

Vil studied your face very carefully.

“…It wasn’t you?” he asked, quieter now.

You shook your head. “No. I swear. Someone must have used an illusion spell. Probably revenge for that incident with the beauty contest last month. I had no idea anyone was still upset about it.”

Vil’s posture relaxed visibly. The cold anger in his chest eased into something more calculated. He stepped closer and gently took your chin between his fingers, tilting your face up to meet his eyes.

“I see,” he murmured. “Then it was a crude attempt to sow discord. How pathetic.”

He released your chin and brushed a strand of hair from your face with careful fingers.

“I apologize for jumping to conclusions. My reaction was unbecoming. But the thought of you with someone else, even as an illusion, was deeply unpleasant.” His voice softened just a fraction. “You are far too important to me to allow anyone to plant such doubts.”

He leaned in and pressed a soft, possessive kiss to your forehead.

“Rook is already looking into the culprit. They will learn that messing with what belongs to Vil Schoenheit is a grave mistake.”

Vil stayed with you on the Ramshackle porch until the last traces of tension had left his shoulders. He pressed one final, lingering kiss to your forehead before pulling away with his usual elegant composure.

“Stay here and rest, sweet potato. I have a small matter to attend to.”

You raised an eyebrow, but he only offered a serene smile. “Nothing you need to worry about. I’ll return shortly.”

He found Rook waiting for him just outside Pomefiore, a cheerful grin on his face and a rather nervous-looking third-year student in tow. The boy had his wrists bound with elegant golden ropes that Rook had clearly enchanted himself.

“Roi du Poison,” Rook announced with theatrical flair, “I present to you the culprit. He was quite easy to track once I followed the lingering traces of his sloppy illusion magic.”

The student paled when he saw Vil’s cold, flawless expression.

Vil didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to.

“Take him to the basement,” he said calmly, voice like chilled silk. “I’ll be down shortly.”

Rook’s smile widened with delight. “As you wish~”

The basement beneath Pomefiore was rarely used, but everyone in the dorm knew that it was a dark, eerie remnant of the Evil Queen’s old alchemy laboratory. It was the perfect place for “etiquette lessons” when Vil felt someone needed a more memorable correction. When Vil descended the stairs a few minutes later, the student was already standing in the center of the dimly lit room, wrists still bound, looking terrified.

Vil stopped a few feet away, arms crossed, posture impeccable.

“You cast an illusion spell to make it appear as though the Prefect was being unfaithful,” he said, voice dangerously calm. “You deliberately tried to damage my relationship with them. All because you were petty about a beauty contest you lost fairly.”

The student stammered, “I-It was just a prank—”

“Just a prank?” Vil’s eyes narrowed, the cold anger finally bleeding into his tone. “You dared to use my beloved’s image for your childish revenge? You made me doubt the one person who sees me as more than a perfect model?”

He took one step closer, heels clicking sharply on the stone floor.

“I do not tolerate anyone touching what is mine. Especially not with something as sloppy and distasteful as a half-baked illusion.”

The student tried to back away, but the ropes held him in place.

Vil’s smile was beautiful and terrifying. “You will apologize to the Prefect tomorrow. Publicly. In front of the entire school if I deem it necessary. After that, you will spend the next two weeks in this basement — assisting me with ‘etiquette training.’ You will learn proper respect, proper restraint, and most importantly… you will learn never to interfere with my relationship again.”

He leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a chilling whisper.

“And if I ever hear of you so much as looking in the Prefect’s direction with ill intent… I will make sure your time here feels like an eternity.”

The student nodded frantically, face ashen.

Vil straightened, smoothing his uniform with elegant fingers. “Rook, make sure he’s comfortable. We wouldn’t want our own student to feel unwelcome.”

Rook bowed with a delighted smile. “Of course, Vil. I’ll prepare the restraints~”

As Vil turned to leave the basement, the last of his cold fury settled into quiet satisfaction. No one messed with what belonged to him.

IDIA SHROUD:

Idia had actually left his room.

Shockingly, he was walking on his own two legs instead of hiding behind his tablet like usual. The Board Game Club activity had run longer than expected, and for once he hadn’t felt like immediately retreating into his cave. He was even humming a quiet chiptune under his breath as he headed back toward Ignihyde, hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets.

Then he saw them.

Two shadows stretched long across the dimly lit path near the edge of the courtyard.

One was unmistakably yours — the familiar silhouette, the way you stood. The other belonged to some random taller guy. They were way too close. The stranger’s shadow leaned in, and yours tilted up toward him in a way that looked… flirty? Like you were sharing a secret or about to—

Idia stopped dead, hair flickering with anxious blue and pink flames.

“U-uh… Y/N…?” he mumbled, voice barely above a whisper, already regretting speaking at all.

The moment the words left his mouth, both shadows jolted. Without hesitation, they bolted —disappearing behind the nearest building in a frantic scramble of footsteps.

Idia stood there frozen, hood slipping slightly over his eyes as his brain short-circuited.

“…Huh?”

His stomach dropped like he’d just fallen into a bottomless pit in a horror game. That was you. He was pretty sure. The height, the posture, even the little head tilt when startled — it was you. And you had run with someone else.

His mind immediately spiraled.

Of course. Why wouldn’t they? I’m just the gross otaku who barely leaves his room. They probably got tired of dealing with my social battery dying every five minutes and found someone normal. Someone who doesn’t talk in gamer slang and hide behind a screen all day.

His hair flared brighter, shifting into anxious pinks and oranges. He tugged his hood lower, shoulders curling in as he turned around and speed-walked straight back to Ignihyde without another word.

He didn’t run after the shadows. What was the point? If you were really doing something behind his back, confronting you in person would just make him look even more pathetic.

The second he was back in the safety of his dimly lit room, he flopped onto his bed, pulled his tablet close, and opened your chat.

Idia: hey
Idia: u free rn?
Idia: can u come over to ignihyde
Idia: …pls

He stared at the screen, knees drawn up to his chest, hair still flickering with nervous colors. Every second that passed without a reply made the ugly feeling in his chest worse.

When you finally texted back that you were on your way, he didn’t feel relieved, but only more nauseous.

You arrived about ten minutes later. Idia was still huddled on his bed with his hood up, barely looking at you when you walked in.

“…Hey,” he mumbled, voice quiet and strained. “You… you weren’t behind the courtyard earlier, right? With some guy?”

You blinked, clearly confused. “What? No, I was in the library finishing an assignment. Why?”

Idia’s shoulders hunched even more. “I saw two shadows. One looked like you. The other was some random dude. You guys were… really close. Like, intimately close. When I called your name, both of you ran.”

He tugged at his hair, voice cracking slightly. “I know I’m probably just being paranoid and gross and overthinking everything like always, but… it looked so real. And then you ran. So my brain went full doom route and started listing all the reasons why you’d finally get tired of the shut-in otaku boyfriend who can’t even hold a normal conversation without glitching—”

You sat down on the edge of his bed, gently pulling his hands away from his hair before he could tug any harder.

“Idia,” you said softly, “it wasn’t me. Someone must have used an illusion spell. Probably revenge for losing against me last month. I had no idea anyone was still mad about it.”

Idia stared at you for a long moment, hair slowly shifting back toward calmer blues.

“…For real?” he whispered.

You nodded. “For real. I’ve been in the library the whole time. Grim’s probably still there struggling.”

Idia let out a shaky breath, then flopped backward onto his bed, covering his face with both hands.

“Ughhh… I’m such a loser. I saw some fake shadows and immediately went full ‘my partner is cheating on me with a normie’ speedrun. My social anxiety deserves a participation trophy for that one.”

He peeked at you through his fingers, cheeks burning. “Sorry. I should’ve just asked instead of spiraling like a malfunctioning NPC.”

You smiled and lay down beside him, resting your head on his shoulder. “It’s okay. I totally get why you panicked. But I’m not going anywhere. Especially not with some random guy.”

Idia was quiet for a moment, then hesitantly wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer.

“…Good,” he mumbled, voice muffled against your hair. “’Cause the thought of you with someone else made my HP drop to zero. Like, instant game over.”

After you left his room, he stayed on his bed for a long time, staring at the ceiling with his hood pulled low. His flaming hair, usually a soft glowing blue, had shifted into a deep, angry red-orange that flickered like a warning sign.

Ortho hovered nearby, scanning his brother’s vitals with a worried tilt of his head.

“Big Brother… your heart rate is elevated and your hair temperature is rising. Are you okay?”

Idia didn’t answer right away. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and flat.

“Someone cast an illusion spell. Made it look like the Prefect was flirting with some random normie.“

Ortho’s eyes widened. “That’s awful! Do you want me to run a trace on the magic signature?”

Idia sat up slowly, pulling his tablet onto his lap. His fingers moved across the screen with sharp, precise taps.

“Yeah. Do it. But don’t bring anyone here. I’m not letting some random into my room.”

While Ortho began scanning the campus’s residual magic traces from outside, Idia opened several windows at once. One was the school’s anonymous reporting system, another was a backdoor he’d quietly installed into the magic surveillance network months ago, and the third was a private server where he started venting through rapid-fire messages in an anonymous guild chat — his usual way of dealing with rage without actually yelling at anyone.

His hair burned brighter, shifting into vivid red-orange flames.

“Some normie thought it would be funny to mess with my life,” he muttered, voice cold and intense. “They wanted to watch me freak out. Probably laughing somewhere right now, thinking they got one over on the shut-in otaku.”

Ortho floated back in a few minutes later, projecting a small holographic profile.

“I found it! The illusion spell was cast from the east side of the courtyard. The signature matches a third-year Ignihyde student.“

Idia’s eyes narrowed behind his hair. “Him… yeah. He’s been salty ever since I called his build trash in the guild chat last month.”

He didn’t move from his bed. He didn’t even open the door.

Instead, he opened a private direct message on the school’s encrypted chat system and started typing.

Idia: hey 
Idia: nice illusion spell btw
Idia: really creative making it look like the Prefect was flirting with some random normie
Idia: almost made me believe it for 0.3 seconds
Idia: 10/10 for effort
Idia: too bad the shadow posture was off by 12% and the movement was super stiff lol

He paused, hair still burning red-orange, then kept typing with cold, deliberate taps.

Idia: here’s what’s gonna happen
Idia: you’re gonna apologize to the Prefect. and write a whole letter. right now.
Idia: you’re gonna tell them exactly what you did and why
Idia: and then you’re gonna delete every single account you have on the school servers
Idia: stay out of my guild, stay out of my raid groups, and stay out of my sight for the rest of the yearIdia: i couldn’t care less if you’re busy, im expecting you to do this immediately.
Idia: if I see your name pop up anywhere near the Prefect again
Idia: I’ll make sure your social life becomes a permanent game over.

The prankster’s reply came almost immediately — a string of panicked messages begging for mercy.

Idia didn’t bother replying. He simply forwarded the entire conversation to the Prefect’s chat with a short note:

Idia: someone for real tried to mess with you
Idia: it’s handled
Idia: …sorry i freaked out earlier

He flopped backward onto his bed with a long groan, covering his face with both hands as his hair slowly faded back to its usual blue.

“…I hate people,” he mumbled. “Why do they always have to ruin good things?”

Ortho floated over and gently patted his brother’s arm. “You did good, Big Brother. You protected the Prefect without physical violence.”

Idia peeked through his fingers, cheeks still flushed.

“…Yeah. But now I feel gross for getting so worked up. I should probably text them again and make sure they’re okay.”

MALLEUS DRACONIA:

The evening air was cool and still as Malleus walked back from his History lesson. The fae moved with his usual graceful stride, horns catching the last rays of the setting sun. His mind was pleasantly occupied with thoughts of you — you had promised to meet him later near the Ramshackle so the two of you could watch the stars together, as you often did.

As he turned onto the quieter path behind the main courtyard, something unusual caught his eye.

Two shadows stretched long across the grass in the fading light.

One was unmistakably yours — the familiar silhouette, the way you held yourself. The other belonged to a taller, broader figure. They were standing far too close. The stranger’s shadow leaned in, and yours tilted up toward them in a way that looked unmistakably flirtatious.

Malleus stopped mid-step. His emerald eyes narrowed.

“Child of Man?” he called out, voice deep and laced with confusion. “Is that you?”

The moment his voice rang out, both shadows jolted. Without a word, they bolted — disappearing behind the thick hedges in a frantic scramble of footsteps.

Malleus remained perfectly still for a long moment, the air around him growing heavier. A low rumble of thunder echoed in the distance, even though the sky had been clear just seconds ago.

He did not chase the shadows. He did not need to.

His ancient senses could already feel the faint, artificial hum of illusion magic lingering in the air — sloppy, rushed, and clearly not real. The posture of “your” shadow had been slightly off. The movement lacked your natural grace. And the way both figures had fled the instant he spoke… it reeked of guilt and fear.

But even knowing it was fake, the image had already burned itself into his mind.

You. Leaning close to someone else. Looking up at them the way you sometimes looked up at him.

A cold, dangerous feeling coiled in his chest. Not simple jealousy — something far older and more volatile. The kind of anger that made the ground tremble faintly beneath his feet and caused small sparks of green lightning to flicker around his horns.

How dare someone use your image like that. How dare they try to plant doubt in the one person who had ever treated him as Malleus — not as the feared Dragon Prince, not as a monster, but as someone worthy of companionship and warmth.

His clawed fingers twitched. For a brief, terrifying second, the air grew thick with raw magical power. A nearby tree branch cracked under the sudden pressure, frost spreading across the grass in jagged patterns.

Then he exhaled slowly, forcing the storm back down.

No.

He would not lose control here. Not when it involved you.

Malleus turned and teleported himself straight to Ramshackle. When he arrived, he found you sitting on the porch steps, looking perfectly normal as you scrolled through your phone with Grim curled up beside you.

“Child of Man,” he said, voice low and carefully controlled.

You looked up, surprised by the unusual tension in his tone. “Malleus! You’re early. Is everything okay?”

He stopped a few feet away, horns casting long shadows across the ground.

“I saw two shadows behind the courtyard. One resembled you quite closely. The other was a stranger. You appeared to be… very intimate with them. When I called your name, both of you ran.”

Your eyes widened in genuine shock. “What? Malleus, I’ve been here the whole time. I haven’t left Ramshackle since my last class.”

Malleus studied your face carefully.

“…It wasn’t you?” he asked, quieter now.

You shook your head. “No. I swear. Someone must have used an illusion spell. Probably revenge for that incident with the mirror last month. I had no idea anyone was still upset about it.”

Malleus was silent for a long moment. The tension in his shoulders slowly eased, but the lingering cold anger remained — directed not at you, but at whoever had dared to use your image so cruelly.

“I see,” he murmured. “Then it was a petty trick. How disappointing.”

He stepped closer and gently took your hand, his large, clawed fingers careful as always.

“I apologize for jumping to conclusions. The sight unsettled me more than I expected.” His voice dropped, laced with quiet intensity. “You are the first person in centuries who has treated me as Malleus — not as a monster or a prince to be feared. The thought of losing that… even as an illusion… was deeply unpleasant.”

He brought your hand to his lips and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your knuckles.

“I will find whoever cast that spell,” he said, voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge. “And they will learn that using your image to cause me distress is a grave mistake.”

The Diasomnia lounge was dimly lit by floating green flames, casting long shadows across the ancient stone walls. Malleus sat in his usual high-backed chair, posture regal but shoulders slightly tense. Lilia lounged gracefully on the armrest beside him, legs swinging like a child. Sebek and Silver stood at attention on either side of the two seated fae, backs straight and expressions serious — the perfect picture of loyal retainers.

Malleus had just finished recounting what he had seen earlier: the two shadows behind the courtyard, one resembling you and the other a stranger, standing far too close, the way they had fled the moment he called your name.

The silence that followed was heavy.

Sebek was the first to react. His face turned bright red with righteous fury, fists clenched at his sides as he stepped forward.

“Young Master!” he boomed, voice echoing through the lounge. “How dare some insolent worm use the Prefect’s image for such a vile trick! To create an illusion of them being unfaithful — it is an outrage! An insult to your honor and to the Prefect’s dignity!”

He dropped to one knee, eyes blazing with determination. “Please grant me permission to hunt down this coward immediately! I will drag them before you by the scruff of their neck and make them confess every detail of their pathetic scheme! No one disrespects you and escapes punishment!”

Silver, standing beside him, had a much calmer but still serious expression. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword as he spoke quietly. “I agree with Sebek. If someone is targeting the Prefect to hurt you, Young Master, we should handle it swiftly. I can assist in tracking them down. It’s our duty to protect what matters to you.”

Lilia, still perched on the armrest, watched the scene with a small, knowing smile. His crimson eyes sparkled with amusement, but there was a sharper edge beneath it.

He tilted his head, smile softening into something more genuine. “It must have been quite unsettling, huh. Seeing something that looked like your dear partner being so close to another. Even knowing it was fake, those kinds of images can sting, can’t they? Especially for someone who has waited for a long time for a real companionship.”

Malleus remained silent for a moment, fingers tapping lightly on the arm of his chair. His expression was calm, but the faint crackle of green lightning danced between his horns for a brief second before he suppressed it.

“…It was unpleasant indeed.” he admitted quietly. “For a moment, I allowed myself to imagine the worst. But I know the Prefect would not betray me in such a manner. Still… the fact that someone would use their image so cruelly to cause me distress is unacceptable.”

He turned his gaze to Sebek and Silver, voice steady and commanding.

“Sebek. Silver. You have my permission to investigate. Find the one responsible. Bring them to me unharmed — I wish to speak with them personally. But do not cause unnecessary destruction. I will not have this escalate into a larger incident.”

Sebek shot to his feet, saluting sharply. “Yes, Young Master! I will not fail you! This coward will tremble before your righteous judgment!”

Silver gave a respectful bow. “Understood. We’ll handle it discreetly.”

As Sebek and Silver left to begin their search, Lilia remained behind, watching Malleus with a gentle, knowing gaze.

“You really have grown attached to them, haven’t you?” he said softly. “It’s nice to see. Just remember that not every shadow is real. And the Prefect chose you, Malleus. Don’t let one foolish prank make you doubt that.”

Malleus nodded slowly, eyes drifting toward the window where the moon was rising.

“I know,” he murmured. “But I will still make sure it never happens again.”

The heavy doors of the Diasomnia lounge swung open as Sebek and Silver returned, escorting the culprit between them. The prankster — a third-year student — looked utterly terrified the moment he laid eyes on Malleus.

Sebek shoved the boy forward with a booming voice. “Young Master! We have apprehended the one responsible! This insolent fool cast an illusion spell to create false shadows of the Prefect in an attempt to sow discord between you and them!”

Silver stood at attention, voice calm but firm. “He didn’t expect you of all people to see it, Young Master. He admitted it was revenge for the incident with the mirror last month.”

The student dropped to his knees before Malleus could even speak, trembling.

Malleus remained seated in his high-backed chair, horns casting long shadows across the room. His expression was calm, but the air around him grew heavier, a low rumble of thunder echoing faintly outside despite the clear night sky.

“You used the Prefect’s image,” Malleus said, voice deceptively soft but carrying the weight of centuries, “to create the illusion of them being unfaithful. You wanted to cause me distress. You wanted to plant doubt in the one person who has ever treated me as something other than a monster or a prince to be feared.”

The student whimpered, head bowed. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t think you’d see it—”

Lilia, perched on the armrest beside Malleus, let out a light, amused chuckle, though his crimson eyes were sharp. “Oh my. You really didn’t think this through, did you? Using the Prefect’s likeness to mess with Malleus of all people? That’s quite the bold mistake.”

Sebek looked ready to explode. “How dare you! You should be grateful the Young Master is showing restraint! If it were up to me, I would have already—”

Malleus raised a hand, silencing Sebek instantly. He leaned forward slightly, emerald eyes glowing with restrained power.

“You will apologize to the Prefect,” he said calmly. “Write a full letter. And you will explain exactly what you did and why. After that, you will spend the next month assisting Lilia with his nightly training sessions — as a moving target. You will learn firsthand how it feels to be the victim of someone else’s amusement.”

The student’s face went deathly pale.

Lilia clapped his hands with delight. “Wonderful idea! I’ll make sure he gets plenty of exercise~”

Sebek saluted sharply. “We will ensure he completes his punishment, Young Master!”

Silver gave a respectful bow. “We’ll keep an eye on him.”

As the two retainers escorted the trembling student out of the lounge, Lilia turned to Malleus with a gentle, knowing smile and patted his shoulder affectionately. “You should go and find Prefect. I’m sure they’d rather spend the evening with you than worry about silly shadow prank.”

Malleus stood, a faint, fond smile finally touching his lips. “Yes… I believe I will.”

"mhm." you didn't look from your paper, blinking slowly as you fought back closing them.

"you've been working for quite a long time," he mummers in your ear, breath tickling your skin enough for it to not piss you off too much. "come take my break with me, please?"

"can't."

"why ever not?"

"you know why ... "

it came out as a soft whine, even as azul gently kisses your shoulder to pull back slightly. he took a glance at your paper, and it was a stack of two or three papers from a class you've been struggling with.

you're squirm under his touch, but you don't push him away. yet. azul is testing the waters, and growing up in the coral sea, he's not afraid to sink deeper.

"and you intend to stop ... when?"

you felt your grip on your pencil tighten, biting your lip as you tried your best to keep your cool. your trying to concentrate, your exhausted and not in the mood―why can't he get the hint?

"when i'm finished."

azul stays silent for a few moments, your stubbornness something he's dealt with in the past, and sighed softly.

if you're going to be stubborn, he can be persistent.

he steps back, the weight on your back washed away as he adjusts his glasses and states, "very well," and walks away. that's it, no "ill be back," or "wait for me," just ― gone.

you felt... conflicted. he knew you were busy but kept pestering you, but at the same time he was only trying to look out for you. great, now you had this puddle of guilt in your stomach but you continued writing until you were either satisfied or wanted to run after azul.

he should understand, you find him piled with paperwork and clients all the time―but you're there to make sure he doesn't stop dead and make sure he eats properly.

with all these thoughts running through your mind, along with trying to refocus your attention to your paper, you didn't hear azul waltz back in with a soft him

until he placed a small tray beside you on the table.

it presents a nearly made crown sandwich and a small cup of your favorite tea, nice and warm. waiting for you.

"... what's this?" you ask softly, pointing at the tray with your pencil.

azul just smiles, "a negotiation."

you squint your eyes when he pulls a chair beside you and settles down next to you, stirring his own cup of tea that rests beside your cup.

"azul―"

"eat, darling."

"i don't have time―"

"yet you have time to argue."

he sips his tea, waiting for you to make your move. waiting to see what you'll do, but when he sees you finally drop your pencil and reach for the small sandwich he can see something on your face switch immediately.

something from pissed to calm. i'm less than two seconds.

when you suddenly go quiet, silently regretting getting moody with azul, he leans close and whispers. "you deserve to rest, you know? overworking yourself leads you nowhere, believe me~"

you cup the tea in your hands gently, looking at your lap you think for a moment before smiling back up at him. "fine, but you have to rest sometimes too! you and i both know you are twice as bad, believe me~"

azul blinks at your tease, chuckling to himself he smiles against his tea cup. "it's a deal, my darling~"

◟♯ . / 𝙇𝙀𝙊𝙉𝘼 . !

you're hunched over, eyes burning, shoulders tight and your fingers cramping―you've been like this for two hours, but you refuse to stop.

only a couple more pages, you tell yourself. a couple leads to a full textbook practically read through you can rewrite the whole thing on a separate piece of paper.

your handwriting turns messy, posture lazy and your head is pounding. you can only consume a certain amount of tylenol before your body drops.

you let out your fifth yawn of the early evening, sitting at the desk in leona's room―which was full of random clothes and jewelry―he let you work there.

until you've completely ignored him when he's tried to nap with you.

"i need my pillow."

"you have, like, three on the bed with you."

"yah, take their place."

you just sighed, and just like that another hour has gone by without you acknowledging your boyfriend. who clearly, isn't taking it lightly. leona is sprawled across his bed, staring at you with his arms crossed over his chest and his tail swishing back and forth inpatient.

"oi." he tried again after a few moments, but this time he was met with silence.

there's a pause, the air tense and the next thing you knew the papers in front of you were snatched away. "ah, hey!" before you could even turn around, you felt strong arms wrap around your waist and pull you over leona's shoulders. his hand holding your back and other holding your arm when he carries you back.

"making me do all the heavy work," he groans, and when you felt your world tilt and your back it the softest mattress you've ever felt, you didn't move.

at first, you definitely did struggle, as stubborn as ever, shoving his shoulders, kicking his legs―but he grasps your wrists and pins you down.

panting at each other, you finally gave up.

"see," he mummered, laying down with you and pulling you into his chest to rest his chin on the crown of your head, "not so bad, huh?"

you didn't move in his arms, curling your legs to tangle with his as he covers you with the blankets. the tension drains from your shoulders and you lazily wrap your arms around his torso, letting your heavy eyes finally close.

he smirks slightly at the sound of your soft snores, but he doesn't move. just falls asleep with you.

◟♯ . / 𝙄𝘿𝙄𝘼 . !

you are drained. gone, completely engrossed in your work. too stubborn to pull away, even when idia shows up to crash. even if your quiet about it, idia can immediately tell. he can read you pretty well, and when he finds you hunched over your desk with papers and textbooks flooding your area―yah no, you need to take a break.

and he's been there, so focused on his work he didn't want to stop. the motivation boosting through his veins faster with every sip of an energy drink―but that's because he knows when it quit.

you...don't.

he's hovering nearby, watching you from behind as he pulls the strings of his hoodie. "hey, uhm." he clears his throat, "don't you think you should...take...a break?"

his voice cracks.

you send him a deadly glare, and he immediately backs off. "right, yah of course, the lady is always stu―i mean right, yah. gotcha."

the next few days are long, he hasn't kissed you, he hasn't seen you―your always working. it got to the point he didn't care about aura, he just wanted to cuddle you. he was finally free himself, and now your busy?

busy overworking yourself?

yah, no.

as you scribble notes down in your notebook, the screen of your laptop suddenly goes black and white. "what the―"

idia's voice causes you to flinch and you groaned turning around on your sheets. "don't worry, i didn't break it. i just...gave it a timeout."

"for how long!"

"...a 24-hour lockdown."

"IDIA!"

suddenly your faces with multiple snacks and two nintendo switches. the snacks are your favorites, of course they are, and the switch controllers are in your two favorite colors. he shows it off like it's a peace offering, and you just stare at him.

"i haven't seen you eat anything for...awhile..and i calculated all the calories in your snacks...uhm―this is, something i thought...you would―uhm." he trailed off, fiddling with the trey in his hands when as he sat down beside you.

"i just wanted to...make sure you were taking care of yourself, and..." he blushes, "i want you to...rest?"

there's an awkward silence, and before idia could run away with his face hidden behind his hoodie, he felt you take the snacks from the trey and sit closer to him.

"tch..your really annoying."

idia chuckles softly, "yah...i know."

"but im also twice as stubborn...i don't know how you deal with me." you sighed, taking a bite of the snack as you curled into his arm.

he froze slightly, clearing his throat as he got comfortable with you. "well, im the same way when i wanna be, so..."

very carefully, almost hesitant, idia pulls his arm around your shoulder and sits with you until...well, whenever you want to pull away. he stays with you, chatting about new games, the drama and just random stuff.

sharing the snacks and sipping on water, idia is silently proud he's the one who got to you finally take a break.

“Phainon,” you try again, scrunching your face so. “Release me.”

He pecks another kiss to your cheek, his big body hovering over you to peck another one to your lips, then another. You sigh after his fourth attempt, your cheeks heating due to his ministrations. When he leans down again, you press the palms of your hand on his mouth, this ceases his attention finally,

“Phainon, Lady Aglaea summons my presence and duties beckon for me—“

“Duties can wait for a little bit longer.” Phainon’s rasps stop you short.

Between the soft layer of Kephale’s dawn, you finally break from your sleepy stupor, staring languidly at the way the golden light from the open window carves a halo around his half-naked figure, his eyes crinkle when he notices you staring up at him.

“Hey, you.” He gently takes your hand into his rougher ones, pressing a tender kiss on your pulse in greeting. His mused-up white hair lay astray and bent in different directions all over his forehead.

“Stay for a moment, here with me.” he looks at you again. “Please?”

Titans, those big blue eyes of his…

“You know I can’t.” Your eyes drag towards the open window. “It’s already Lucid hour.”

Phainon’s face fell a little. “It’s been quite awhile since I had you in my arms like this. Can’t you spare my greed even just for a mere moment?”

It has been a long time since you were like this with him. Being Okhema’s destined deliverer and a prophesied hero does not spare him any free time for casual leisure, and even if he was granted with it—you wouldn’t be available, with the rising threat of the Black tide, you were busy tending to the citizens. If not, you were patrolling the Eternal City till Curtain-fall hour.

You reach out to hold his cheek, before slowly tugging him down so you can peck his forehead. You admit that you had missed Phainon just as much as he had to you. Your mattress—the smell of mint and cleanly-washed fabrics has long forgotten his scent of sunbaked and woodsy aroma that seems to accompany his very person. You’d reminisce and yearn for the familiar sheets to smell just like the sun, so you can at least pitifully imagine Phainon’s presence beside you whenever he would embark on another mission outside of Okhema.

When you pull away you playfully poke his cheek. “You’re pouting.”

His face does not lift at all. “Do you truly insist on leaving?”

You pondered and while you did, Phainon traced his hand up your wrist to your palms, interlacing both your fingers together. His rough-hewn palms feel so warm against your own, comforting almost, like a blanket.

“I suppose I can be late…” Phainon’s wide blue eyes perk up. “But, if I get an earful from my superiors, I trust that Okhema’s deliverer will come to my aid?”

Phainon laughs, a honey-like and sweet kind. “You needn’t ask a second time, however I'd appreciate it if you reward me with a kiss on the lips, perhaps?”

You sigh heavy, though it sounded more like a playful huff of air. “You greedy man.” despite your outward mutter, you wasted no time to curl your fingers behind his neck and pull him into your embrace, slotting your lips with his like a perfect puzzle piece and the white-haired hero hums a pleasant sound, one hand cradling your torso and the other crawling to your caress the bareness of your thighs.

This is certainly gonna be a very long day for the two of you, wrapped around in each other’s embraces like this. But for once you simply enjoyed the company of his presence.

MYDEIMOS

When you realize the warmth of his slumbering chest against the bare of your cheek, your eyes flutter, his quiet breaths stirring you.

You paid no heed to your bird’s nest of a hair, instead when you lift your head, your eyes immediately hang over Mydeimos, quietly watching as his roughened face with a scrunched brow sleeps heavy, his melted peachy hair muse like a lion’s mane. You let out a quiet breath, at least for the most part, he seems to be at ease…

A brush of sound tickles your ears, and at the edge of the tent—you feel a presence approaching.

“My lor—“

You pinned your gaze with the person and lifted a finger to your lips, signaling him to hush. Hephaestion blinks, before realizing that Mydei is fast asleep. The man nods his head, finally understanding what you meant and slowly ducks under the tent, making himself comfortable in the open space beside you, and you let him.

You hear a relieved sigh beside you, “I was worried the events of yesternight would deter his slumber.” Hephaestion spares you a kind look, “I’m glad you are around to help him.”

You shake your head. “You praise me too much.” Then, you gather your legs to your chest. “It seems like you lacked sleep, Hephaestion. If you feel any pain, I could perhaps conjure up a remedy for you…”

“I’m doing alright, please do not worry about my health.” He gazes back at Mydeimos, this time his eyes fill with the subtle of blues.

“No one…” he starts, hesitates, then swallows. “No one would be sleeping at peace knowing that Perdikkas—“ though his rasp stops there, he needn’t continue further for you to understand what he meant, the surrounding air hangs heavy after his statement.

Since Perdikkas died yesterday, no one in the Kremnoan Detachment was resting properly, everyone was brimming with grief and you can still remember the warmth of his blood staining your palms, trying your very best to stop how he continued to bleed all over the ground despite your efforts to heal him like how he had taught you.

He’s shot with a poison arrow, you can only do so much at that time.

You lift a hand and cradle Mydeimos’ cheek.

“Our prince should not have to witness such a thing.” You murmur and the man beside you hums in agreement.

“But you are aware that he would face even tougher battles in the future, especially against King Eurypon.” Hephaestion says, “if that day arrives, i want you to support him like how you always have.”

You look at him over your shoulder, “what about you?”

And he simply smiles, but you understand him even with just a single glance. He knew he wouldn’t be able to make it till the end of this journey, especially with Perdikkas gone and his illness seems to be catching up with him…

“Hephaestion…” at your reluctant tone, he reaches out to pat your head, it was to reassure you but you feel nothing but the crushing weight of sadness in your chest.

“I’ll still be here. Anyways for now, I will tend to other matters.” He proceeds to stand. “Are you gonna remain here?”

You spare Mydeimos a look, your gaze softening like crushed herbs on mortar and pestle. No one, not even Hephaestion knew what had happened yesterday when you had reluctantly announced Perdikkas to be dead, his chest no longer moving. At that moment, Mydeimos, the exiled prince had his back pinned straight and a crown of halo settling behind the pinks of his hair shading the campfire.

He was immediate with his commands, he had told Leonnius to tell the others of what had transpired, leaving some of the aftermath to Hephaestion as he softly touched your shoulders and told you to leave Perdikkas’ corpse to Ptolemy and Peucesta. Your hands had a slight tremor when they hoisted his body from your arms and Mydeimos had slotted in the space beside you, his rough-hewn palms gathered into yours as he brought it to his lips and kissed each bloodied fingers so tenderly.

“I…Perdikkas, he…”

“Shh.” Mydeimos hushes you, softly cradling the back of your head and lets you lean on his shoulder. He’d consoled you as you softly weeped, and sure enough the entire night bleeds over and the quiet campfire has been extinguished as everyone somberly heads to their own tent.

You, however, could not sleep after feeling your friend die in your arms. Just when you were about to take a stroll, you heard the softest of weeps coming from the main tent—Mydeimos’ tent.

You would have given him the privacy, but when you hear the crumbled sobbing of Perdikkas’ name leaving his lips you cannot help the sorrow from bursting from your chest. When you reach his tent and softly call out his name, he doesn’t not hide his suffering. Nor does he pull away when you enter and immediately pull Mydeimos in your embrace like how he had a few hours ago, his tears felt hot on your shoulder and you held your own anguish.

“Shhh, hush now. Mydeimos.” You were the one reciting words to him now, and Mydei lets his hands fall on your torso until he fell asleep on your lap and you continued whispering words to him until daybreak.

Hephaestion calls out your name and you break from your revery. He looks at you with quiet concern and you simply give him the sweetest smile you can muster, “yes, i’ll remain here until he wakes.”

The man does not question you any further, but the smile he sent your way was that of relief. He bids you a short farewell and leaves you with Mydeimos where you softly caress his bangs and press a soft kiss to his forehead. I’ll remain here till my last breath if I must, so you have a shoulder to cry on, Mydeimos.

ANAXAGORAS

There’s a strong scent in the room along with the soft rustles of pen against paper. Your first instinct was to utter his name, a drunken slur and a yearning’s call.

“Anaxa?”

Despite such a whispered breath, the sound of writing ceases, and if you were more conscious, you would have realized your mistake of not calling him by his full name like how he usually preferred it to be, except what touched your ears was his deep voice, a little monotonous but gentle nonetheless.

“Did I wake you?” Anaxagoras asks and you merely stir in the sheets, his side of the mattress is still warm and smelled just like him—the soft aroma of something fruity. You settle your gaze on him, who never left the comfort of his chair and messy desk, after such a sight you cannot help but be petulant.

“…you promised me you wouldn’t meddle with your research.”

“Did I now?” He asks but his eyes remain plastered on his books and research.

“Anaxagoras.”

“Fine, fine. I heard you the first time, no need to call me again.”

He finally closes his books and turns to your direction, for a moment your anger almost concludes, for the confident and spiteful sage that everyone was used to seeing was now wearing nothing but a loose, white dress shirt and pants, his dark cape and embellishments, tight corset and gloves had forgo and a button or two from his dress shirt is open, showing the bareness of his pale chest, the one where a deep scar in the shape of a star could be seen. It's something that he rarely shows others, others but you, you remember him telling you one time.

You turn away and exhale in frustration, more to yourself than him for ogling, but Anaxa seems to take it a different way.

“Are you mad at me?”

You ponder softly. “A little, but if you truly need to finish what you need to do, then I won’t stop you.”

Then he’d sigh like he had lost a debate, finally standing from his seat, his footsteps a sharp resound. “If you word it like that, how can I focus knowing you are indeed mad at me?”

You cannot help but poke him a little. “Oh? The famous, strict professor from the Grove, worried about how I would feel?”

Anaxa gives you nothing but a deadpan, when he finally closes the distance, he reaches out and squishes both your cheeks with his hand. “Consider yourself lucky that I gave you the liberty to do as you please.”

Then, you were caught surprised when he unclasps his metal tie, letting the softest strands of sugarcane hair fall over his shoulder.

“What…what are you doing?”

Anaxagoras stands there in front of you for a moment, as if asking himself the same question. Another sigh from him, then he spins around and plops at the end of the mattress with crossed arms.

“Go on, play with it.”

You stayed there, awestruck. “With your…hair?”

The chains of his eyepatch jingle when he spares you a look over his shoulder, his pretty eyes of boysenberry and mint casting you a look. “You wish to play with it, no? Don’t think I never noticed how you constantly look at it with itching fingers, now go on before I change my mind.”

You try to hide the grin from your expression, but despite having only one functioning eye, it does not go unnoticed by the professor—you smile, and it’s the type that lingers as an aftertaste in his mind.

You smile at him with such sweetness, and for a mere moment, he wishes to covet such an expression. Your musings and reactions had always fascinated him to such a degree and now he cannot stop thinking of how your fingers feel, combing through the loose silks of his green hair.

The last time he let anyone touch his hair was when he was a young boy, at that time he was no professor nor was he a conversationalist, underneath the tree of his home city-state where he tinkered with the mechanical bird, his older sister would fashion his short hair, picking at the leaves that dare to fall on his head and comb through his soft locks.

Anaxagoras reminisced this moment briefly, he hums and unconsciously finds his hand wandering behind to touch your knees, where his fingers gently caressed the skin there as you quietly worked on his hair into complex knots.

The room hangs with a comforting silence, where you both drink in each other’s presence without the usual snarky words thrown at one another. It doesn't take long before your mood has been lifted and Anaxagoras’ hair is set into two pigtails interlaced with magenta ribbons.

He sighs quietly for the umpteenth time amidst your soft giggles.

“Feeling better?” He finally breaks the silence, but despite such a loose question, there’s a tone of endearment hidden between those words. In response, you’d press a gentle kiss at the back of his neck, sending soft shivers down his spine as you softly wrapped your arms around his shoulders, laying your head behind his neck.

“Better, sorry if I sounded demanding and pulled you away from work.” You try to peek at him but he has already turned his head over his shoulder, aware of how close both your faces are.

Looking at him like this, you could’ve sworn there was a smile…

“Well, it’s not like it’s important work.”

“Then, do you wanna lay back down with me?” You pat the empty spot of the mattress, Anaxagoras raises a brow.

“What?” You asked.

“I would ruin what you made.” He points towards his two pigtails. “Are you fine with that?”

“I can always redo them.” This made Anaxa’s face sour. But he’d comply with your wishes, again and again he does, at first it was because he wishes to see those cute expressions from you—but now, he wishes more of you than ever before. When you both lay on the bed again and you seemed to drift to sleep first, Anaxagoras raised his hand to slowly caress your cheek.

And for once in his life, he’d sleep at ease, knowing that when he awakens, you’d be there to greet him with a smile.