Freaky person

𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐓 ✉︎

HE LOST COUNT WHEN SEEING YOU SLIDE THE FIFTY TOWARDS HIM. vil pauses, completely composed but there is a glint of confusion on his face.

he looks up at you and blinks once, eyes sharp and posture straight.

"my dear, what are you doing?"

you explain, in the sweetest tone, how you wanted to help him pay the bill.

he doesn't even let you finish, already sliding the bill back at you──shaking his head sternly.

"oh, nono please, put that away."

you forcefully pull the cash back towards you, blinking up at him as he finishes collecting the cash and placing it on the bill given.

"generosity is admirable, but let me treat my beloved whenever i please~ you deserve to be spoiled, and i intend on fulfilling it."

𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐋 𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐎 ✉︎

HE DOESN'T EVEN LOOK UP AT YOU, azul just flicks the bill back toward you and you slide it back.

a smile forces its way to your lips when he finally grabs the bill and twiddles it between his index and middle finger.

"my pearl, are you trying to make me laugh?"

his eyes are narrowed, posture confident and a sly smirk on his face. you say you wanted to help pay the bill, and he chuckles.

his polite laughs just sounds like money is raining before him, and he slides the bill back in your direction on the table and pays for the dinner from his card.

he'll take your hand and kiss your skin gently, eyes glaring behind his glasses as he smiles fondly.

"what a lovely gesture, my dear, but you need not worry about money as long as im with you~"

𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐃 ✉︎

HE'S ALREADY HUNCHED OVER AT THE TABLE, hair styled to show his face, suit ironed and fitted, poking at his food unable to make eye contact with anyone other then you─he even had a hard time ordering his plate.

he's already awkward as is, so when idia sees you slide over a fifty he immediately flinched.

what are you doing? why are you handing him a fifty? do you think he's broke?

he blinks once and immediately drops his fork with a clank. "wh―what are you doing ?..." you explained softly, smiling so much he can feel it in his soul.

idia shook his head, immediately wiping out his wallet and fumbles for his cash while panic explaining, "but―but i asked you out, you can't pay ! this isn't how it was supposed to go, put that away and just let me pay... please?"

at the end of it, he ends up paying and secretly sliding a few extra hundreds in your purse when you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom―never will he let his woman pay for a meal.

𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐔𝐒 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐀 ✉︎

WHEN YOU SLIDE THE FIFTY ACROSS THE TABLE CLOTH, malleus doesn't even bat an eye. he simply watches you retract your hand and smiling sweetly up at him.

"...what gesture is this?" he asks, curious as a child, tilting his head while he already planned to pay ahead.

you say you wanted to help with the bill, and malleus smiled. he's not offended, but more amused.

"your offering?"

little do you know, malleus already has the cash ready to hand over to the waiter.

as you nod your head, malleus already took the bills from his wallet and placed it into the billfold, taking another hundred and hands it to you back with the fifty.

"don't make me laugh, my love. it's said the man pays for the woman, yes? as future king and queen of briar valley, please, take the money, you deserve all the wealth in the world~"

𝐊𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐌 𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐌 ✉︎

HE'S EXPECTING TO PAY FOR THE BILL, kalim doesn't register the fact you slide a fifty forward until he finally looks down.

he was mid-ramble, saying how good the food was―jamil having to be convinced multiple times─when he cuts himself off at the sight of your money.

he blinks, eventually understanding your intentions.

kalim gasps slightly, shakes his head and immediately pushes the cash back to you. "oh, no baby, you don't have to do that! it's my treat, don't worry!"

no matter how hard you try and say otherwise, kalim ends up paying for your meal and even sends you an extra two hundred for shopping<3

"let me treat you, okay? you deserve all the riches in the world ! besides, my mother wants you to shop at this store, she says you'll look beautiful in their clothes!"

Then, on one day someone a long time ago deemed special, everyone gathers together, presents bursting from under the brightly decorated tree. Small trinkets would fill the giant stockings, laughter would fill empty air, jolly music made just for the holiday would play, the smell of cookies and hot cocoa would create the perfect ambiance. Whether you loved the holiday, or even really celebrated it or not, one thing was clear. You were feeling incredibly homesick, and the lack of Christmas, one of the holiday’s that was meant to bring the community together and get you through the cold, dreary days of winter was really taking a toll on you.

As you stared out the cloudy windows of Ramshackle, a small flurry of snow starting to fall from the sky, you came to a conclusion. You were going to celebrate Christmas one way or another, and you would try your hardest to collect everything needed to celebrate something that would bring you a much needed familiarity. 

At first your friends were confused. A sudden determination had consumed you, one that had come out of seemingly nowhere. You found yourself at Sam’s shop more often than not, ordering what you could within your limited funds and even making special requests. While you couldn’t order a pine tree (they didn’t really cut those down to show off in people’s homes here), you made due with what you could decorate. You bought red fabric and did your best to cut out the stocking shape and sew it together. Then with white fluffy fabric, you cut a line to then glue/sew around the opening. You proudly hung them above your fireplace. Already with such a simple thing, you found your mood lightening instantly. 

While Ace, Deuce and Grim questioned your actions, you continued on without even bothering to explain. They will have all their answers in due time. Instead you bought tinsel, stuff people hung for parties, but got green and red tinsel specifically. You hung it along the mantle of the fireplace, along the walls, the doorframes, the ghosts helping you merrily all the while. You then bought fairy lights, the closest thing you could find in relation to Christmas lights, and hung it along the walls. Your chest warmed at how small strings of lights dangled from the main line, twinkling along your beige walls like little stars (it almost looked like snow falling, but that might be you going insane). 

You’re not sure how Malleus didn’t freeze at night, still coming by every so often. He looked on in wonder at how you managed to breathe life into such a desolate place. Perhaps it was his curious nature, or how he was always willing to listen to you with no judgement, but he was the first one you explained yourself to. The wonders people in your world would create with lights and decorations and warmth. How you wished to replicate that, even if you could only do a fraction of what was possible in your world. Christmas seemed to resonate with Malleus strongly, the idea of people meeting together and sharing their love and merriment. Seeing the joy and longing that filled your eyes as you described your beloved holiday, Malleus took it upon himself to help in any way he could.

One night, Ramshackle may have shined brilliantly inside, but outside it still was its ever dull grey, then the next it shone proudly like a gem. Brilliant whites, reds, blues and greens wrapped around the roof, chimney, gutters, and trees that surrounded the dorm. Strange deer-like creatures made from wire that glittered with lights filled the yard (it was strange, as it almost looked like reindeer, but was distinctly twisted in a way that fit this world as well). Giant candy canes lined the path to the dorm, and when I say giant, I mean they were taller than you! A small layer of snow coated the browning grass, a small flurry of snow falling. In the center stood Malleus, green eyes sparkling as he awaited your reaction. Tears welled in your eyes as you took everything in, you hadn’t expected this. Nowhere near this. 

 You wished to host the party soon, so you decided to start writing the invitations. With pristine white paper and red envelopes, you personally write out an invitation for each and every friend you could think of. You made sure to deliver it in person, as you’ve had many problems already and wished to avoid any more. Each person had their own reaction, some were excited, others weary, yet they all had one thing in common. One look at your barely contained joy had them folding rather quickly. 

More invigorated than ever with such a display, and a party guaranteed to happen (and the many questions you kept gaining from all your curious friends), your next course of action was to ensure you had enough food. From chips to ingredients of desserts, you were going to cover all your bases. Trey ‘just happened’ to stop by when your sleeves were rolled up and a light coat of flour dusted your face, and offered to help. The kitchen was warm as the oven was on, Grim trying to swipe bites of cookie dough as you and Trey tried to shape the cookies by hand (while some cookie cutters applied to the holiday, you struggled to find enough). You also made a variety of cookies, sugar cookies, gingerbread men, cookies topped with a chocolate candy, and so much more. You both laughed at the poor art of the santa that ended up looking more like a blob, sugar and warmth filling the air. It didn’t take long for nearly all your plates to be filled with various treats ready to be consumed, wrapped with cling wrap for the party only a day away. 

You barely got any sleep that night, donning a sweater that was the closest you could get to the holiday spirit. You double and triple checked that you had everything perfect, a little trinket you picked out for each and every person who would be attending. You were bouncing on your heels, watching each second pass by with baited breath. And as people started trickling in, you felt yourself slowly mend. This wasn’t perfect, the tree was missing and there were no holiday themed outfits, but it embodied what Christmas was supposed to be. A gathering of people who care for each other in one way or another, eating sugary foods and having fun. You don’t think you’d ever seen Ramshackle so warm and inviting, all your friends in one place, nearly filling the entire living room and more. 

As you took in everything, the warmth that settled deep in your heart, you missed the person who joined you in the doorway. Their gaze followed yours before lifting up. A small branch of mistletoe hung above you both, little red berries bright against the dark green leaves. 

“What’s that for?” They asked, curiosity clear. This was the most you had shared of your old life, and they would love to learn more about what helped shape you. 

You stood still, suddenly feeling a bit bashful at the implications. It hadn’t even been your intention when one of the ghosts helped hang the small branch, just another decoration you could find that reminded you of home. Yet here you stood, with someone you cherished so…how would they react to such a tradition?

❥ Riddle Rosehearts

When you explained the purpose of hanging mistle toe in your world, Riddle turned a violent red when he realized the implications. His bright, grey-blue eyes widened comically and mouth agape for a few seconds before he tried to regain his composure.

“I see,” Riddle spoke, hand covering his mouth as he took a deep breath. “I do not wish to disrespect your traditions, but I am…unsure how to proceed.”

You chuckled awkwardly, clinging to your drink like it was your saving grace, “We don’t have to do anything you would be uncomfortable with. It’s just a silly tradition.”

Suddenly, Riddle’s demeanor changed, much back to his serious and stern self. He turned to face you, eyes sharp. With a gloved hand, he tugged on your sweater sleeve, rising up and placing a short yet sweet kiss to your cheek. You blinked rapidly, your heart-rate accelerating as Riddle pulled away. With a glare sharp enough to cut steel, Riddle nearly looked unaffected if it weren’t for his cheeks as bright as a stop light.

“I hope that was sufficient,” Riddle muttered, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. 

“More than,” You replied easily, feeling the edge of your lips threaten to upturn. The night was far from over, but your heart felt complete as you both continued to stand side by side, and if your pinkies linked and the distance between you both dwindled, neither of you mentioned it. But you would be lying if you said this wasn’t one of your favorite Christmas’.

❥ Trey Clover

Trey felt a bit bashful as you explained what the twig of mistletoe meant. He had already gathered that this holiday of yours was one of family, friends, and lovers, showing your care and strengthening bonds into the next year. Though he was a bit surprised that you would incorporate such a…bold tradition. 

“It’s not that serious,” You chuckled awkwardly, trying to wave it off. “I didn’t even think about it when it was hung, just another thing that represents the spirit of Christmas.”

When you finally looked back to Trey you felt your breath halt. He looked at you with a gaze so warm you nearly did a double take.

“I wouldn’t want to break any traditions,” Trey smirked amusedly. “Besides, isn’t there a downfall if it’s not carried out? My only concern is making you uncomfortable.”

You opened and closed your mouth before finally responding, “I…I suppose there is…” You felt sweat bead at your hairline as Trey inched closer to you. “It’s said that you won’t find love the next year.” 

“Now that would be a shame,” Trey mumbled, having inched closer the entire time. Close enough to feel his breath fan your face. “Should we make sure that outcome doesn’t befall you?”

Not trusting your voice, you gave a weak nod. Trey took that as his sign to finally slot his lips against your own. The kiss was neither soft nor harsh, just present. His lips were soft and tasted of the sugar found in the desserts you both worked hard to make, his touch was soft as he caressed your jaw. It was safe to say that you were in fact safe against the tradition of your mistletoe.

❥ Cater Diamond

Cater froze, emerald eyes locked on you as you finished your explanation. He felt his hands tremble as he grasped his phone. His mind was in overdrive. On one hand, this was something he was waiting for, for a long time now…on the other it felt like everything was moving way too fast. You, yourself felt a little sheepish, eyes falling anywhere but the redhead beside you. 

“We don’t…” You trail off, feeling the awkwardness roll off you in waves.

“That’s so cute,” Cater laughed tensely, fumbling with his phone. “We gotta share this holiday cheer!” 

“Seriously,” You try putting your foot down. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to do something you’re not comfortable with. I’m just happy you’re here-” 

You can barely finish your sentence before your entire world spins. One second you're talking, the next your lips are locked together with the cute ginger. A small noise of surprise escapes you, but you quickly melt into the kiss. It’s both soft and intense, like he feels starved, but is too scared to go all the way. You both pull away flustered, his cheeks a bright pink as he tries his best to hide his face behind his phone. 

Though that does little to calm his racing heart, he can’t stop peeking at you, trying to gauge your own reaction. Cater did manage to capture a picture of you both, it’s slightly blurry, you can barely make out his red hair and the surprise in your eyes. It’s a photo he will cherish, one that marks a momentous step in your relationship, and the mark of his first Merry Christmas, and a wondrous New Year.

❥ Deuce Spade

There’s a deathly silence after you finish your explanation…then Deuce explodes. His face burns a bright red as he splutters nonsensical words. He backs up rapidly, nearly bumping into Floyd who looks on in mild interest. His reaction is honestly more embarrassing than the tradition, and you try to catch him before he falls and hits his head.

“Calm down,” You whine, trying to ignore the flutter in your heart as he is rigid in your gentle hold. You unconsciously rub the back of his hand with your thumb as you continue, “It’s just a silly tradition, we don’t have to go through with it.”

“But…this clearly means a lot to you,” Deuce replied, brows furrowed in concern. “You’ve gone through so much to decorate the dorm and make sure everyone here would have fun following traditions from your world…”

“Yeah…” You agree, surprised how observing Deuce can be, but then you shook your head with a gentle smile. “But we don’t have to follow every tradition to a t.”

Placing his hand against his chest, Deuce declared almost too loudly, “I do not mind completing this tradition with you, but only if you consent.” Your mouth dropped open, face burning alive as multiple others turned to look at you, you even noticed Ace somewhere started to record. Pent up energy started to thrum in your veins, and unsure how to get rid of you, you decided to stop the pointless conversation and place a chaste kiss against Deuce’s lips. 

Once again he seemed to malfunction, but the smile he tried to smother shone through all the same…and he’s on the floor passed out.

❥ Ace Trappola

“What a weird tradition,” Ace snarks, but it does little to hide the way he adverts his eyes. He crosses his arms while leaning against the doorframe, doing his best to act nonchalant, all the while he’s eyeing your lips. 

You give him a deadpanned stare, not at all amused by his behavior, “Okay, not like I was saying I follow it.”

That caused Ace to falter slightly, his expression becoming a bit disappointed, “Y-you don’t?”

You merely shrugged, “Nah, I only celebrated this holiday with family so we never really put up mistletoe, but it’s huge with the holiday which is why I put it up this time. Do you think I was planning on kissing someone today?”

“How am I supposed to know?” Ace defended, glaring at you weakly. “It’s not like I celebrate this shitty-”

He cuts himself off as your glare turns harsher, and immediately tries to correct himself, “No, not shitty, I just mean…I don’t know, shut up!” 

“I didn’t even say anything,” You huff, rolling your eyes. 

“You know what,” Ace huffs, pushing himself off the wall. Instead of leaving to find Deuce like you thought, he instead grabbed the front of your sweater and pulled you into a heated kiss. It was messy, not coordinated at all, clearly no plan was put into it. It didn’t last long either as he pulled away, face a bright crimson.

“There,” Ace mutters, not able to meet your eyes. “Now your stupid tradition is complete.”

❥ Leona Kingscholar

The only sign of a reaction you get is an ear twitch and a raised eyebrow. 

“Hm,” Leona hums, leaning against the doorframe opposite you (yet he is so big that there still isn’t much space between you both). “There is a similar custom in Sunset Savannah, and it is said that if you don’t complete the tradition, you will sever ties with that person in the next year.”

“Oh,” You blinked, curious at what tradition his homeland participated in. “That is quite similar, though it’s more vague. From where I’m from, if you don’t go through with it, you won’t find love within the next year.”

Leona merely hums again, closing his eyes like he’s done with the conversation, but you’ve known him enough to know that he was trying to relax in a high energy environment. It goes quiet for a few seconds before he opens one eye, somehow still managing to stare you down like he’s disappointed in your intelligence. 

“Come now, herbivore,” Leona motions lazily with a hand for you to step closer. “I don’t have all day.” It was a lie, he was here for you, and your party was bound to go for a few more hours at least, but you stepped forward anyways, closing that barely-there gap. A smirk wormed its way across his lips before he leaned down and captured your lips within his own. Just as quick as it happens, it’s over, his fangs barely scraping against your lip as he pulls away. He watches smugly as you flounder, “Merry Christmas, herbivore.”

❥ Ruggie Bucchi

As you finish your explanation, Ruggie stares at you like you caught him in a trap, sugar cookie half falling out his mouth. He’s quick to cover his surprise with a startled giggle, covering the lower half of his face with his hand.

“You tryin’ to trap someone into given’ ya a kiss? Shehehe,” Ruggie couldn’t meet your eyes as he spoke, eyes the one hand he had filled with various snacks he managed to get his hands on. “Bet’cha didn’t expect me to ruin your plan.”

A frown tugged on your lips, “You didn’t ruin anything. I didn’t even think twice about that tradition when I originally put it up.”

“Besides,” You shrug, inching closer to the hyena. “I’m glad it was you I got stuck with.” 

Ruggie lets out another nervous laugh, cheeks dusted a light pink, “Really?”

“Mhm,” You nod, taking another step closer, arm brushing against his. “In fact, I’m glad it was you out of everyone else.” 

Ruggie glanced at you in the eye, something dangerous swirling within his own. Your faces inch closer, and closer…you can nearly count every freckle that lands on his cheeks, every eyelash that flutters. You’re not sure who pushes forward (perhaps you both did), and your lips are suddenly on his, the kiss hesitant, like neither of you can believe it’s happening. His lips taste like sugar and chips, which weirdly worked. Ruggie pulls away first, his nervous laughter unable to stop spilling from his lips. His cheeks are alight, and he’s struggling to even look at you.

“Merry Christmas, Ruggie,” You smile, leaning in to kiss his cheek. 

❥ Jack Howl

Jack’s reaction is quite stoic, merely staring at you like some silent samurai who holds too much weight on their shoulders. His posture is impeccable as always, eyes not giving away a hint of the battle he is in inside his mind. You are someone he cares about, someone he cherishes, and he is proud to be a part of a holiday celebration you gave everyone a chance to celebrate, a piece of you and your culture shown brightly for everyone to participate in. Yet the gentlemanly part of him is telling him he can’t kiss you, whether it be lip to lip or even simply to your cheek or back of your hand. 

“To be honest I didn’t even think about that part of hanging mistletoe,” You chuckled, shrugging it off. “I just saw it in a catalogue Sam gave me and jumped on buying it immediately.”

“It means a lot to you,” Jack stated, biceps tensing in what he was about to propose. Taking a deep breath, he pushes himself towards you like a man on a mission. His ear twitches, his eyes harden, it nearly looks like he’s going into battle. Before you can even get a word out, try to reassure he doesn’t need to feel pressured to follow a stupid tradition, he places a chaste kiss on the corner of your lips. It was featherlight, you wondered if you hallucinated the whole thing.

It was clear as day thought, with the way Jack’s tail wagged, his cheeks turning a light pink, and the way he averted his eyes that it had indeed happened. A giddy smile overtook you as you rocked back and forth on your heels. It seems the start to your new year will indeed be merry.

❥ Azul Ashengrotto

A suave smile pasted itself on his lips. His default facade taking over due to the groundbreaking nuke you just unknowingly launched onto him. If you looked hard enough, you could see every muscle tense, like he was one step away from completely shattering apart. Oh how badly he was waiting for a moment such as this, yet now he finds himself frozen in place, watching the moment slowly slip through his fingers. 

Clearing his throat, he finally replies, “How interesting…” His voice cracking does not help his smooth act. You watch on in slight amusement as Azul clears his throat, trying to keep himself together, but his mind continues to run rampant. Did you plan this on purpose? Did the tweels help you? Or perhaps, this was all just a massive stroke of luck and he should really be thanking Ursula right now. 

“Ahem,” He shakes his head lightly to try and clear his thoughts. “It would be my honor to partake in a tradition such as this from your homeland.”

“You sure?” You tease, eyes crinkling with your grin. “I don’t want you to feel pressured into doing something you’d rather not.”

“Yes!” Azul exclaims, before shrinking back, a blush spreading from his neck to the tips of his ear. “I mean…I do not mind in the slightest.”

“Whatever you say,” You reply before stepping forward. Azul fidgets slightly as your face approaches his own…only to land on the corner of his lips. He nearly whined out of frustration, but he held back any embarrassing noises, nearly frying to death from how flustered he felt at the simple gesture of your lips near his own.

“Merry Christmas, Azul,” You chuckle.

❥ Jade Leech

“My, my~” Jade grins, a bit too wide for your liking. “What a bold tradition.”

“Yeah,” You agree sheepishly. “I’ve never really participated, nor have I seen anyone else participate, but it’s a huge staple in Christmas movies.”

“I see,” Jade nods, looking a bit too into the conversation. “I presume you wish to participate in the tradition now?” It was less of a question and more of an accusation.

Jade took a step toward you, causing you to take a cautious step back, only for your back to hit the wall.

“It wasn’t really my plan,” You tried to defend yourself, glancing left and right. No one seemed to notice your dilemma, or cared enough to deal with the Leech twin. 

“That’s hard to believe,” Jade countered, placing a hand on his chest. “You went through all the trouble to not only buy a branch of mistletoe, but to place it in a spot that is impossible to miss. You are quite cunning, prefect.”

“I just thought it added to the holiday cheer,” It was a weak defence against the evidence, but it was the truth. 

“Now, now,” He tsked, hair flowing gently as he shook his head. “We must complete the tradition, we wouldn’t want to face the negative effects if we don’t.”

You thought about protesting, arguing that it was merely superstition that couldn’t be proven. That it wasn’t even a tradition here, so what effects would even occur, but as Jade’s face inched ever so close to your own, you found all rational thought leaving your head. He seemed to understand this, the predatory glint in his eye causing your heart to skip a beat. Closer, and closer, you involuntarily shut your eyes…only for him to swerve and kiss your cheek. 

“Don’t look so glum,” He chuckled merrily. “You didn’t specify what type of kiss.”

❥ Floyd Leech

“Boring,” Was Floyd’s immediate response. “Who cares about kissing under some plant? You can do that anywhere.”

You blinked once, then twice. 

“That's…not the point…” You say with furrowed brows. “It’s supposed to catch the two people off guard, in movies it’s normally two people who are crushing on each other that get unknowingly stuck under it. It’s supposed to be a cute thing that brings out people’s feelings for each other.”

“You said it was to bring luck to someone’s love life,” Floyd countered.

“Yeah,” You rolled your eyes. “Kissing your crush kinda pushes that forward." 

Now it was Floyd’s turn to blink once, then twice at you—only for you to only see grey and yellow eyes staring you down. You felt his breath fan your face as he gave you that intimidating blank look. 

“Ya think you’re funny, shrimpy?” He asked, tone devoid of all emotion. It should scare you, but you’ve dealt with it too many times to be fazed anymore. Perhaps a bit of Floyd’s chaos has rubbed off on you, but you decide to do the unthinkable.

You close the miniscule gap, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before darting off. You nearly run into many of your friends, but they’re used to you and trouble being a pair by now. Meanwhile, Floyd is stunned, a rare emotion from the eel-mer. Then, he lets out a loud cackle, Jack and Epel looking at him concernedly. 

“Oh shrimpy,” Floyd sighs, already searching the crowd for your form. “Do’ya really think you can hide after pulling a stunt like that?”

Perhaps your silly tradition has some merit after all.

❥ Kalim Al-Asim

“Really?” Kalim asked, stars practically shining in his eyes. “That’s so romantic!” “Mhm,” You nodded, chuckling at his enthusiasm. “It’s a big thing in romcom Christmas movies.”

“Wait,” He gasps, tanned cheeks turning a warm pink. “Does that mean…” He becomes so flustered his sentence dissolves into nonsense. 

You tilt your head, amused at his behavior, “Only if you want to. The tradition isn’t super serious or anything, just wanted to add more to the holiday spirit.”

“I want to!” Kalim shouts, drawing attention to himself, but not even caring. He clasps his hands around your own, “I really, really, reeeeeallllyyyyy want to.” You burst out laughing at his enthusiasm, your stomach fluttering at what was soon to come. 

“Hmm, okay,” You agree, smile so big it nearly hurt. Leaning forward, Kalim watched you with bated breath. You placed against his cheek, which he puffed in indignation. Before he could whine or complain, you placed another kiss on the opposite cheek. Then you placed a kiss on his forehead, then his nose, then his chin. You kept it up until he became a giggle puddle beneath you, his face aflame and heart beating rapidly against his ribcage. Finally, once you felt like you’ve done enough damage, you placed the final killer move and pressed a firm kiss to his lips, which seemed to finally break him. 

“Can I get another?” Kalim asks with zero shame, arms wrapped around your neck as he clings to you.

“Hmm…” You pretend to ponder your next answer, causing Kalim to tug you closer to him (if that was even possible). Of course you couldn’t say no to his cute pouting face, so you kissed him again, and again, until neither of you could handle any more (your friends were not happy with the clear pda).

❥ Jamil Viper

“I see…” Jamil trails off, eyes refusing to meet your own. He would be hiding his face with his hood if he wasn’t wearing the red knit sweater you commented on being similar to this holiday you wished to celebrate. 

“It’s nothing big,” You waved the tradition off, a reassuring smile plastered on your face. “I just put it up ‘cus it reminded me of home.”

At that, Jamil’s eyes softened. It was easy to forget that you were not from their world, that you had quite literally set aflame the campus with your presence, and that you may find yourself more homesick than the rest. Sharp grey eyes took in your appearance, you donned an ugly green and red sweater, poorly drawn sleigh and some deer creature taped to the front. A headband with pipettes that wove up into the shape of antlers. It was clear that you wished to go all out in celebrating traditions from your world, and he’d be damned if he were to rain on your parade, even if it was a little.

While Jamil was not one for any displays of affection, he found himself approaching you. You only watched him with wide eyes as he placed a chaste kiss on your cheek. You blinked once, twice, then felt your face burn hot. You didn’t expect that, not at all. Jamil merely looked away once more, trying to act nonchalant even though he felt like he was currently melting into a puddle of goo.

“Merry Christmas, prefect.”

❥ Vil Schoenheit

“How…cliche,” Vil remarks, glancing up at the twig hung above you both. “It seems that no matter where you are from, you’ll have something to try and get two people to kiss.”

“Huh,” You mutter, awkwardly smiling. “When you explain it like that, it is kinda weird.”

“I never said that,” Vil tsk’d, tapping a finger against his crossed arms. “There’s a reason why it’s a common theme among holidays. Finding love, it’s something many wish to chase, that many wish for others to find. It’s beautiful that people across many cultures and worlds all long for connection.”

“You’re starting to sound like Rook,” You tease, only to be met with a sharp glare. 

“I’ll ignore that remark, for now,” Vil straightens his posture, fixing a nonexistent wrinkle in his clothes. “If I didn’t know any better, you purposefully set this up to steal a kiss from me.”

“Now why would I do that?” You asked, a smirk tugging at your lips. “You wouldn’t even know the tradition behind it, it would be stupid to assume I would get a kiss.”

“So you do have a brain,” Vil effortlessly tosses back. “I shouldn’t think less of my sweet potato.”

Your heart flutters at the use of that stupid nickname, not to mention the way he looks at you like you mean something to him. Just like everything he does, Vil approaches your space with a confidence you could only wish for, tilting your head towards him with perfectly manicured nails, and presses a tantalizing kiss to the corner of your lips. Your mouth falls agape and you only stare at the beautiful man in front of you like he bestowed you the best gift of all (he kinda did). In return, Vil can’t help being a little smug that his lip tint left a mark, not that he would tell you.

❥ Rook Hunt

“Oh, how magnifique,” Rook croons, clasping his hands like a maiden that was just told the most romantic tale. “A way to get love to bloom, just like the berries found on the branch. How poetic, how beau.” 

“I suppose,” You chuckle at his enthusiasm. “But in my experience, it was something only really done in movies or books.”

“Non, how devastating,” Rook exclaimed, gently holding your shoulders in his excitement. “You have not even participated in a tradition you hold so close to your heart? We must fix this.”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” You laughed, amused about how invested in this he was. “Besides, the tradition deems whoever steps under the mistletoe together have to kiss, and that would be you.”

“You have a point, mon ami,” Rook pulls away from you slightly, but the fire in his emerald eyes is bright as ever. If you knew any better, you would think he had joined you under the mistletoe on purpose, but it would be impossible for him to know your tradition…wouldn’t it? “We would not want to break tradition now, would we, mon cher?” 

“I suppose not…” You replied, watching the hunter wearily. Of course instead of being normal and placing a kiss to your cheek, he kneeled in front of you, bringing your hand up to his lips and placing a kiss to the back of it. He looked up at you both smug and content, like you had bestowed upon him his greatest wish.

“I hope you have a wonderful Christmas, ma charmante préfète.”

❥ Epel Felmier

“Huh?!” Epel exclaimed when you mentioned kissing. He zoned out completely when you tried to reassure him that it was not mandatory, at least not to you, but it went in through one ear and out the other. All he could think about was the prospect of kissing you and just how flustered he became thinking about it, creating a self destructive cycle. 

You poked his cheek, watching his frozen state half amused and half concerned. 

“Ya really think yer slick, huh,” Epel snapped out of his flustered shock and defaulted to aggression. 

“What are you talking about?” You deadpanned, crossing your arms.

“Standin’ under the mistletoe, knowin’ I would come ta find ya,” He huffs, cheeks a bright red, almost as bright as the apples he harvests. 

“If you were listening, I said we don’t have to do anything,” You point out, rolling your eyes. 

“You kiddin’?” Epel glares. “Ya know what happens if ya don’t follow tradition?” You raise an eyebrow at the sudden change. He’s lucky you like him so much, but you decide you want to tease him a little. 

“You’re right,” You nod, closing the gap between you both. His blue eyes widening at the sudden proximity, his flush spreading down his neck and to the tips of his ears. He mindlessly splutters, eyes darting towards anything but you, which was a challenge with your face so close. 

“Merry Christmas Epel,” You smile, kissing his cheek before pulling away, watching the lilac haired student melt into a metaphorical puddle of goo.

❥ Idia Shroud

When you finished your explanation, Idia’s hair tips turned a light pink, yellow eyes widening at the implications. He shoved his face into his hoodie, eyes darting around the room. He had only come over to hide from everyone, not to get bombarded with scary traditions that would have him…he couldn’t even think of it without trembling. 

“It’s just a fun holiday decoration,” You tried to assure, scratching your cheek. “Not like we actually have to do anything.”

“You…wha…it’s…” Idia tried to speak, but it felt like his brain was mush and his knees were jelly. You had no clue how much he wanted to be brave, to whisk you into a charming kiss that would leave you breathless, but you see, he could barely speak to you some days, how was he supposed to…to kiss you?! 

“Idia,” You spoke softly, gently taking one of his hands in your own, hoping to ground him in some way. Shaky eyes met your own, pale face burning a bright red, hair flaring a light pink. He trembled harder in your grasp, it was like his dreams were coming true while simultaneously unraveling in front of him at this very moment. He wishes he had an ounce of confidence, maybe he would’ve pecked your cheek, or maybe even the hand that was clasped around his sweaty one, but like the coward he was, he whimpered when you got closer to him, concern creasing your brows. 

“You…can,” Idia muttered, barely audible over the sound of Ace, Deuce, and Kalim shouting while playing some game. 

“I can…?” You question, unsure what he was talking about.

“You can…do the tradition…” For Idia, this was basically a confession, and you knew if you questioned him further he would overthink it and back out. So, to show mercy on his sweet soul, you pressed a light kiss to his cheek, causing the poor Ignihyde housewarden to blush even worse, nearly fainting at the action. Safe to say that Idia’s wish had come true.

❥ Malleus Draconia

“How quaint,” Malleus comments, eyes wide with wonder. “You humans have such lovely traditions.”

“It’s so common in my world,” You reply, hand resting on your chin in thought. “It’s weird to meet people who have never heard of it, though I suppose I should have when Christmas doesn’t exist here.”

“It’s such a charming holiday,” Malleus hums, eyes taking in all your handmade decorations, the cutout snowflakes that lined your walls, the twinkling fairy lights, and homemade stockings that lined your fireplace mantle. “I’m pleased that you have included me in your celebration.” “Of course,” You smiled at the tall dragon fae. “You’ve helped me so much in bringing my idea into reality, I owe you one.”

“You owe me nothing, child of man,” Malleus smiled back, fangs glistening in the warm light. “This is a night of festivities, to honor your bonds, no?”

“Yeah,” You agree. Unable to hold in all the positive emotions that were pinging around inside you, you lean up and place a quick kiss to his cheek. “That’s for catching me under the mistletoe.” You tried to explain off your actions, feeling yourself fluster at your bold actions. In the distance you could hear the squawking of a certain crocodile fae who was being held back. Malleus only watched you with reverent awe, a rare expression, as not much can astound the fae prince. 

“I see…” Malleus finally speaks, cheeks a light pink. “And you must do that every time you are caught under mistletoe?”

It seems you’ve unleashed something far greater than you could imagine. Not like you were going to stop him or anything.

❥ Lilia Vanrouge

“Ohoho~” Lilia giggles, wiggling his eyebrows. “How scandalous. Of course you managed to trap cute little me. Whatever will. I. do.” Crimson eyes set on you, his grin too devious for a cute face. While his words spoke one thing, it felt more like you who was trapped at the moment. 

“You sound a little too excited,” You observe, taking a cautious step back. 

Lilia giggled, taking a step towards you, “Can you blame me? I have to kiss a cutie like you, all because of a tradition from your world.”

“You don’t have to,” You point out, glancing left and right, wondering if you could escape Lilia’s teasing one way or another. 

“And break such a rule?” Lilia gasps overdramatically, placing a hand to his chest. “Do you truly think so lowly of me? What kind of fae would I be?” You gave him an unamused look, which goaded Lilia further in his dramatic spiel. You didn’t even notice when his face had approached yours, but now all you could see was a cute, old bat fae with choppy bangs. 

“Would you mind if I completed your tradition, little beastie?” He asked, eyes searching your own for any discomfort. All you could do was nod, feeling flustered at the fact that you could count every eyelash and feel his breath fan on your face. With your consent, he closes the gap, leaving a small peck against your lips before disappearing, then reappearing above you.

“Kehehe~” He laughs, staring at you upside down. “Maybe you’ll be my New Year's kiss as well.” And with that, he vanishes from your sight with a wink.

❥ Silver Vanrouge

Silver blinks sleepily, nodding along as you spoke.

“But it’s just something I wanted to hang for fun, I don’t expect anything to come from it,” You shrug, watching Silver’s calm reaction from the corner of your eye. 

“It’s pretty,” Silver agrees, eyes trailing back up to the twig above you. “And the sentiment is sweet. Bringing two people closer together.”

“I…never thought about it like that,” You pondered. “It was always just a cliche trope in Christmas movies that I never thought twice about.” Silver watched you with warm eyes, the tug of sleep threatening to take over, but his will to stay awake was just a tad bit stronger. 

The conversation falls silent for a few seconds, and you decide to be brave. Stepping towards Silver, your hand falls on his sleeve to stabilize yourself, leaning over to place a kiss on his cheek. Of course, it was your luck that Silver turned his head to face your own, causing your lips to meet in a brief kiss. You pulled back like you were burned with an iron, face felt like it was melting as Silver merely had a startled look. 

“S-sorry,” You stutter slightly, hiding your face behind your hands. “I was aiming for your cheek, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay,” Silver reassured, a light blush coating his cheeks. “I don’t mind…not if it’s you.” Those words made you feel like you were about to melt into the floorboards, and his shy expression wasn’t helping you at all. 

“O-oh,” You fidget with your sleeve, unsure how to progress further at such a revelation. “I’ll…keep that in mind.” Was the last thing Silver heard before he finally succumbed to his next dream filled with you.

❥ Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek listened intensely, cheeks flaring a bright red as it clicked in his mind. He was standing under the mistletoe…with you…

Just like that, he exploded, “HOW DARE YOU HUMAN!” Sebek shouts on the top of his lungs, a mix of fluster and embarrassment settle in his chest. “YOU SHOULD BE PUNISHED FOR SUCH INSOLENCE! HOW DARE YOU TRAP A RETAINER OF LORD MALLEUS IN SUCH A DISGUSTING PLOT!” 

You flinch at the loud volume, covering your ears at how his voice rattled in your brain, drowning out all other noise. You’re sure everyone was staring at you now, causing Sebek to become even more embarrassed. 

“Calm down,” You try to reason, slowly lowering your hands and holding them in a placating manner. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I just hung it up for aesthetics, that’s all.”

“Who do you take me for,” Sebek scolded, frown marring his lips as he glared daggers into you. “I must uphold the unknowing deal I have been forced into.”

“What?” You asked in confusion, guilt starting to pool in your chest. “I’m not forcing you into anything, you really think I’d do something like that?” 

Sebek let out a short breath, marching up to you like a soldier about to slay their enemy, then, with surprisingly gentle hands, he pulled your face close to his own and pressed a featherlight, barely there kiss. You blinked rapidly at such a fast moving pace, watching as Sebek pulled away like you had struck him. 

“THERE!” He shouts some more, causing everyone in the vicinity to look for an escape. His face was a bright cherry red, and you were concerned that he may pass out, “I HAVE COMPLETED YOUR STUPID HUMAN TRADITION! DO NOT EXPECT ME TO FALL FOR SUCH A TRICK NEXT TIME!” He then marched off, needing a bit of fresh air to calm himself down.

As the party wound down, and people started taking their exit, you let out a content sigh. Sure, Ramshackle may be a bit of a mess, but as you look at Ace and Deuce who fell asleep against each other on the couch, ugly sweaters you forced them to wear, then to Grim who was snoring as he lay in front of the dwindling fire, a warmth settled in your chest. You got to spend a Christmas with those you loved, sharing many memories, and some relationships possibly blooming into something more. You removed the santa hat you donned for most the night, grabbed a spare blanket to place over your two friends, and headed off to bed. The mess was a problem for tomorrow you. Tonight, you’ll bask in the Christmas cheer you managed to spread with your own two hands, and your thoughts may linger on the mistletoe kiss you shared with your crush.

The moment his consciousness finally jogged up with this mouth, Idia felt his soul try to physically detach from his body. He stopped dead mid-sentence, the horrifying realization of spending ten continuous minutes infodumping about a literal figurine washing over him after a few seconds.

Oh, that was it. Any second now, you were going to execute a hard skip on this dialogue tree, back away slowly, and backfire him from your social circle forever.

He could practically see the dialogue box clearly—

INCORRECT CHOICE ! Love interest is now deeply uncomfortable—Affection Points decreased significantly.

He squeezed his eyes shut, hands flying up to grip the strings of his hoodie as he braced himself for the inevitable. “A-Ah—whatever, it’s stupid anyway! Just ignore me, I-I’m basically just a glitch in the NPC matrix, disregard everything I just said!—”

“Whoa,” you quip, your lips curling into a warm, effortless smile that thoroughly crumbled his remaining frame rate. “I didn’t exactly realize that so much detail went into marketing for these. You really know a lot about these, Idia.”

Despite his initial spiral, he was stunned to find that you just sat there, leaning forward slightly with your chin resting in your hand, looking up at him with a genuinely captivated expression. You hadn’t interrupted him once, he realized, and that you had been listening to his rambles the whole time with your head tilting with curiosity at all the right moments, completely unfazed by his mile-a-minute, high-pitched tech jargon.

In fact, he’s pretty sure his soul briefly left his body the moment you continued, “I like hearing you talk about things you’re passionate about.”

Like… huh?

What kind of romance-route dialogue is that?! That’s not fair—that’s literally a critical hit to his EXP! 

His blue hair violently combusted, the flames instantly shifting from panicked embers into a blinding, neon, flustered pink from root to tip. The flames crackled and hissed so vigorously that they nearly drowned out the sound of his own hyperventilating and the hysterical pulses of his heartbeat. His eyes darted wildly around the room, desperately scanning the air for hidden cameras or a floating twitch chat.

Surely, this was a prank set up by some high-tier Pomefiore influencer for a “pranking the local Ignihyde otaku” video, right? Real, actual 3D heroines didn’t just say stuff like that—they didn’t just sit there looking like a literal SSR drop while handing out free, unprompted ego buffs.

Idia stammered against his words, voice hitting a higher frequency than usual. He yanked the strings of his hoodie so tight his face was practically swallowed by the fabric, leaving only his wide saucer-like eyes visible. “Y-you’re… you’re hackling. There’s no way… what kind of broken RNG…?”

You just let out a soft and melodic chuckle at his absolute meltdown.

“I’m serious,” you said, leaning in just a fraction closer, completely unfazed by the heat radiating from his blushing flames. “It’s nice to listen to someone who actually has deep lore to share. You should show me some of your other setups sometime.”

Idia nearly fucking died.

The moment the door clicked shut behind you, he remained as he was in his gaming chair for a solid thirty seconds, staring blankly at the closed door. After what felt like hours, he folded forward until his forehead hit the desk with a loud thunk, his flustered pink sparks dancing wildly against the ceiling. 

This was bad—this was incredibly, dangerously bad. 

Idia is in some deep shit, and he’s got it horrendous.

That leads him to his current train of thoughts, which mostly consists of him staring into the middle distance like a war veteran while questioning where exactly his life took such a catastrophic turn—genuinely, when did this happen?

Idia never planned for this; people like him aren’t supposed to fall in love in the first place (love, he thinks, is supposed to be a word that he mouths with no lingering weight of pathos promised and entangled within its philosophy). He isn’t built for the main storyline—a background-dwelling tech support NPC like him is supposed to be the guy behind the scenes, he’s supposed to be with the rest of the audience that spectates on the male lead sweeping the female lead off her feet, he’s supposed to be the comic relief shut-in who is named Supporting Character A.

Supposed, supposed, supposed—yet, here he is, completely and irreversibly hard-locked into your route, with a heart that is currently hammering against his ribcage so violently it feels like a mechanical keyboard stuck on macros.

He has never wished harder in his life for visible quest objectives and navigation to magically appear in front of him. At least then, he’d know what he’s supposed to do.

Hell, not even the otome games he downloaded for this specific situation help him much. Those self-insert protagonists can casually lean against walls, trap their love interests in kabedons, and whisper devastatingly smooth lines into their ears without wanting to blow their shit smooth off—but Idia? He’d rather die than do any of those things in public, let alone in the halls of fucking Night Raven College, where those normies can have a front row seat to his social doom.

Absolutely not.

Sure, he’s confided in Ortho, which, in hindsight, might’ve been his first fatal mistake. 

Ortho, being the wonderful little brother he is, immediately treated the situation like a full-scale strategy game. By the time he pulled out pie charts and statistical breakdowns with alarming enthusiasm, Idia belatedly realized that somehow made things infinitely worse because now, with every analysis that spills from his brother’s mouth, the suspicion that comes with every tiny interaction with you worsens.

You smiled at him, you laughed at his niche gaming references, you reposted anything remotely romantic? Was that normal, platonic friendliness, or was that a hidden affection flag?

At this point, his brain is running thirty tabs at once while overheating catastrophically. The worst part is that, despite everything, a small delusional part of him is starting to think that maybe—just maybe—you actually like him back.

Which is an insane thought—actually clinically insane on his part, because there’s no way you would genuinely look at his chronically online ass and think, yeah, this one. I want this one.

…Probably

Muscle Red: Oho! A love trouble? Then you must court them properly!

Muscle Red: Listen well! Courtship is a sacred tradition between two burning souls. You must demonstrate sincerity, devotion, and the unwavering confidence of a man prepared to seize happiness with his own hands!

Muscle Red: Bring her gifts! Walk her back to her dorm! Praise her openly before others! Challenge rivals for her affection if necessary! 

Gloomurai: im gnna throw up

Suffice to say that Idia can only stare at the screen in mounting horror.

Walk you back to your dorm? In public? Where people can see him? He would rather get caught accidentally liking a six-month-old post on your account at three in the morning.

Praise you openly before others? The closest he has ever gotten to publicly complimenting someone was typing “cool fit” into a server chat once—and that led him to overthink about it for three business days.

Don’t even get him started on the “challenge rivals” part.

What rivals?! This isn’t some shoujo manga where he dramatically confronts another guy beneath cherry blossoms while orchestral music swells in the background. If anyone else liked you, Idia would simply accept his defeat and back off.

The next few days become a special kind of torture, during which Idia spends approximately ninety percent of his time internally debating every possible interaction before chickening out at the last second.

Should he message you first? No, too desperate.

Should he invite you to hang out in his room again? Too suspicious. 

Should he casually send you one of those funny cat videos you liked last week? Wait, no, what if you think he’s weird for remembering that—

By day three of this psychological gridlock, Idia is practically a ghost haunting his own gaming chair. He hasn’t even logged in to do his daily quests, a tragic metric that has Ortho considering launching an emergency medical protocol.

Every time his phone buzzes with a notification, his entire central nervous system experiences some sort of shock wave. If it’s an update from a gacha game, he sighs with a mix of relief and profound patheticness. If it’s you, his blue hair violently flashes a bright, neon-pink warning signal before he shoves the device face-down onto his mattress like it’s a live explosive.

He’ll stare at your chat head for twenty minutes, his thumbs hovering over the digital keyboard with the manic, trembling high-APM of a pro e-sports player at a grand final.

“hey, r u free to look at that coding script 2day?” Draft deleted—he sounds like he’s an underpaid IT helpdesk NPC.

“yo, i got a rare item drop if u wnt it.” Draft also deleted—what if you think he’s trying to bribe your affection metrics?”

“uhm, wyd.” Yet another draft deleted—literally a cry for help, he sounds like some no good frat boy.

Ultimately, he locks the screen, buries his face deep into the fleece of his hoodie, and emits a muffled groan of absolute defeat.

Unbeknownst to him, however, his unsuspecting self is about to be hit with a massive, unavoidable random encounter. On the fourth afternoon of his isolation, just as he finally sneaks out of Ignihyde to restock on his highly specific, premium snacks and energy drinks under the cover of dusk, he turns the corner of the courtyard, and runs straight into you.

“...Uh. W-well.”

The single syllable chokes out of his throat, hitting a pitch so violently uncalibrated.

He does not remember much from that embarrassing moment, his brain entirely wiping its cache of those crucial ten seconds due to a system-wide stress overload. Next thing he knows, his autopilot script had somehow had him stammer out an invitation to his dorm under the paper-thin, incredibly pathetic excuse of “O-ortho wanted to show you something new.”

Which brings him right here—the thing that Ortho had apparently “mentioned” happens to be a co-op game. He didn’t even have the time to swap his oversized fleece hoodie before you are already sitting right beside him in his personal sanctuary.

“T-the game itself is this co-op puzzle RPG where the mechanics are built around synchronized movement patterns and environmental coordination, so if one person messes up, both players immediately explode. Which is, uh, fun—in theory.” He explains quickly, his hands fumbling as he offers you a spare controller.

“Sounds perfect for us, then,” you joke lightly as you take the controller from his hands.

He sounds like a loser thinking about this, but the moment your fingers brush against his for less than a second, Idia almost drops dead on the spot.

Blissfully unaware of his inner battle, you merely settle beside him, knees nearly brushing against his. Idia sits rigidly beside you the entire time like a corpse being propped upright for a funeral service, while you are having the time of your life.

“Okay,” you grin, glancing at the character selection screen. “Who do I get to be?”

Lord, he’s finished.

The first round goes surprisingly well so far, mostly because Idia becomes terrifyingly competent the second a controller is in his hands.

“Okay, jump there—no, not there there, the glowing platform—wait!—”

A shrill, distorted scream echoes through the speakers as your avatar pinwheels downward into the endless abyss below. Idia's avatar—who had been perfectly balanced on the platform a second ago—is immediately yanked off the edge after you like some poor sack of potatoes.

Then, in giant ornate Gothic lettering, splattered across the holographic display are the words Game Over.

“...Oops,” you say weakly.

Idia makes a strangled noise beside you—not an angry noise, per se, more like a sound of someone watching years peel off his lifespan in a matter of seconds.

“W-we actually died in under four minutes. This might actually be a new record.” He mutters. “A total server-wipeout… in the very first run.”

“Hey,” you nudge his elbow gently with yours, a soft, bright burst of laughter cutting through the air. “Don’t pass away on me, yet. I still need a teacher to help me get the hang of it.”

It’s not even a full shove—just a tiny bump of your elbow that barely grazes his sleeves—and yet, his heart jolted so violently that he nearly drops the controller straight into his lap.

Fuck, why did his entire nervous system fail him at the contact? What is he? A plaintive, sopping loser?

“A-ah, no, you’re fine,” he blurts out, his posture akin to that of a statue at this point. “I-I mean, the first quadrant is basically designed to filter casuals, anyway. The devs are sadists, it’s not your fault—well, not fully your fault, but—”

He watches in absolute horror as your eyes widen theatrically. 

“Wow,” you gasp. “I’m quite offended.”

“N-no!” His voice cracks so hard in his flurry. “That’s not what I— I meant statistically speaking! The map layout is intentionally made to be deceptive and—”

You can’t even hold the fake, theatrical offense for more than three seconds before you completely lose it, letting out a loud and joyous laugh that echoes beautifully throughout his room. You slightly lean back, shoulders shaking as you try to catch your breath.

The holographic screen paints shifting blues and violets across your face while you grin at him like this is fun—like he’s fun, and something terrifyingly warm twists and convulses fiercely in his chest.

“I’m kidding,” you assure him between giggles. “Relax, Idia. We can just try again.”

Idia lets his hands drop, his pink hair settling into a slightly calmer, but deeply flustered magenta. He wipes his palms against his pants, yanking his hood down just enough to shield the red that peppers across his cheeks, though he can’t hide the tiny, incredibly bashful smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“U-ugh… fine. A very funny joke modifier,” he mutters, his fingers snapping back onto the joysticks with a sudden competitive burst of high-speed adrenaline. He gives you a sideways glance through his glowing blue bangs, his heart doing completely unpatched glitches against his ribcage. “But you gotta seriously lock in for the second run.”

His fingers twitch anxiously over the buttons. “Besides… it’d be kinda lame if we give up after one try.”

The words come out more honest than he intended, because the thing is, he doesn’t care about the game anymore—not really.

He just likes the low flare of the holographic screen reflecting in your eyes, the sound of your laughter resounding through the room instead of the usual mechanical hum that he has come to liken with his dorm, the fact that you’re sitting here beside him close enough that your sleeve brushes against his every few seconds without recoiling from him once.

Judging from the way you beam at him afterward, Idia finds that awful pressure in his chest doesn’t feel quite as unbearable anymore.

It’s still absolutely mortifying—his heartbeat is pounding so frantically that he’s halfway convinced the controller can feel it through his palms, but beneath the burning embarrassment and internal, non-stop screaming, there’s something warm—dangerously close to elation—blooming quietly.

“Okay, okay,” you laugh, lifting your hands in surrender. “I’ll try not to drag us both to our death next time.”

“Good,” he murmurs, though the tiny smile clawing at the corner of his mouth completely ruins any attempt at sounding cool. “C-cause carrying you is already consuming like… ninety percent of my processing power.”

Thankfully, the next several stages go relatively smoothly. There are still several incidents involving nearly avoiding laser grids, one extremely unfortunate puzzle mishap where both your avatars get flattened by a giant stone mechanism, and a particularly humiliating moment where Idia nearly accidentally walks straight into a cursed debuff trap because he was too busy staring at your excited expression after you solved one of the rune sequences correctly.

By the time the twelfth stage materializes, the difficulty has scaled exponentially. The environment shifts to a scene of ruins that give way to a massive suspended cathedral floating in the void, stained-glass windows glowing with fractured luminous light while chains hang endlessly beneath the platforms, mimicking the remains of a fallen god. 

You lean slightly closer to the screen, brows furrowed in concentration as you navigate through a narrow, razor-thin edge.

“This is the midpoint difficulty spike,” Idia mutters. “Most co-op teams dissolve here because the synchronization timing gets super strict and the platforming physics become—”

Midway through this explanation, your character encounters a sudden collision glitch, causing its footing to skid perilously close to the platform’s edge. Before his processing units can even boot up, let alone catch up to his mouth, Idia jolts in a frenzy.

“Careful!”

At the same exact moment, his right hand shoots out entirely on instinct, abandoning his controller to steady your wrist. 

On the massive screen, your character’s sprite catches the edge of the mesh at the last possible frame and pulls itself up.

The good news is that your avatar survives—bad news is that Idia might as well be the opposite.

He is made painfully aware that:

One: He is holding your wrist—his long, pale fingers are wrapped firmly around your skin.

Two: your skin is warm, in contrast to the chill touch that lingers on the expanse of his skin.

Three—

Holy fuck.

What if that looked overly possessive?! What if he just triggered a permanent creepflag?! What if his user rating just dropped into absolute null?!

His hand jerks away from you so fast it may as well have been a recoil animation. Had you not known, you might think he’d just been struck by a high-voltage lightning spell.

“S-sorry!—” he stumbles out the apology immediately, nearly swallowing his tongue. “That was—uh—gamer reflex! It’s purely a tactical maneuver! N-not in a weird way! I’m not trying to, like, grab you or anything! T-that sounded bad—wait, no, that made it worse—”

His words rapidly devolve into incomprehensible static, his entire chest heaving beneath his hoodie. His saucer-like amber eyes are blown out to the size of dinner plates as he tries to compress his entire lanky frame into the deepest, darkest depths of his ergonomic gaming chair. 

The flames around his head explode, burning such an aggressive and flustered pink that they cast an almost blinding, radioactive glow across the room. 

You blink, completely stunned for a second by the sheer, thermonuclear velocity of his meltdown. You look at the vibrating bundle of hoodie and pink sparks sitting next to you, and then down at your wrist, where the faint imprint of his surprisingly firm (and pleasant) touch still lingers against your skin.

A chuckle escapes your lips, cutting through his frantic static like a high-tier debuff cleanser.

“Idia,” You reach over, using the edge of your controller to lightly tap his rigidly locked elbow. “Relax, if anything, I should be the one thanking you. You literally saved our run.”

The flames around his head sputter more glaringly.

“I’m serious,” you reaffirm, a warm and blithe smile tugging at your lips as you lean closer, wholly unfazed by the subtle crackles of his blushing flames that slightly warm the air between the two of you.

“Besides, if you’re going to keep saving me every time I almost fall off a cliff, I think I’ve got a pretty good teammate.” You tilt your head. “Guess I’ll just have you stick with me, hm?”

“Oh.” The eloquent response escapes before he can stop it.

You raise an eyebrow in amusement. “Oh?”

“Uh, N-not—” His voice cracks. “I-I mean, y-yeah, technically. The fail state would’ve been triggered if your character fell there. So from a purely strategic standpoint, preserving teammate integrity was the optimal choice.”

His hair slowly begins to cycle back into a deeply flustered magenta, casting a warm glow over his sharp features as he fixes his gaze on the screen, refusing to risk looking at you again. “Of course, maintaining both player units is the most efficient route for progression, so it wasn’t, uh, anything special or—”

He continues to ramble, his clarifications getting increasingly tangled in technical jargon.

“Mm.” You hum thoughtfully, leaning your cheek against the top of your controller. The single sound is enough to make him nervous.

“Mm?” He echoes weakly.

You let the pause hang for a beat longer, your lips curling into a soft yet thoroughly amused smile that fully dismantled his remaining defenses.

“I think that’s the longest explanation anyone’s ever given me for grabbing my wrist,” you tease. “I never thought you would be so flustered over this, though.”

He makes a sound of pure, unadulterated suffering. “T-that.” 

A useless syllable, that he is aware of. He stares straight ahead at the suspended cathedral on the screen with such an unblinkable intensity.

“You—uh.” 

His grip on the controller tightens, the joysticks creaking ominously beneath his thumbs. What the hell is he supposed to say? “Oh, sorry. I’m flustered because I have a humiliatingly massive crush on you, and I can’t think of anything every time you stand within a three-foot radius?”

Yeah, fuck no, he might as well dig his own grave and lie down in it at this point.

“Y-you’re making it sound weirder than it was,” he mumbles instead, visibly shrinking further (if that’s even possible) into his hoodie. He looks everywhere but at you—staring intently at the carpet, at the glowing power strip on the floor, at the stray charging cable—anywhere to avoid your direct line of sight. “I just reacted before I thought—that’s all.”

“Mhm.” Your voice hums with a smooth, heavy drop of skepticism that slices right through his defenses.

“I did,” he insists, his voice hitting a slightly higher and defensive cadence that completely betrays his inner panic.

“Sure.”

“I-I did!”

The immediate high-pitched defensiveness almost makes you laugh out loud. 

“I mean, obviously, I didn’t want to run to fail,” he continues, the words tripping over themselves and colliding in his throat as he rushes to build a logical explanation. “And we’d already gotten past, like, twelve stages, so it would’ve been a huge waste of progress, unallocated playtime, and—”

There he goes again. 

You don’t interrupt—you don’t think you could even if you wanted to. The rambles keep branching into increasingly specific tangents, spiralling from game mechanics to reaction times, then, somehow, jumping seamlessly into other rabbit holes.

At some point, you subconsciously begin to focus on him. You watch the way one of his hands flails and moves as he talks, while the other still rests over the joysticks. You notice the sharp and defensive hitch of his shoulders whenever he thinks he’s embarrassed himself, the fabric of his hoodie bunching up like some sort of armour.

Your gaze traces the dance of pink embers around his head, watching them flicker into dazzling starbursts every single time his tongue buffers. Beneath his bangs, you catch the frantic, side-to-side darting of his wide amber eyes, because he still can’t quite summon the courage to look you in the eyes.

Cute.

The thought arrives so naturally and unprompted that it almost catches you off guard. You blink; the word echoes in the space of your own mind, carrying a strange warmth in its wake.

Across from you, Idia is still rambling himself deeper into whatever massive hole he’s currently digging, his voice dropping into a low mumble as the seconds stretch by. He’s not even aware of the shift in his room—thoroughly and utterly hopeless against the silent psychological warfare of your stare.

A soft smile tugs at the corner of your lips—he’s… kind of adorable, no, scratch that, he’s incredibly and devastatingly adorable when he’s trying this hard to pretend he doesn’t care.

Judging by the sudden, stupid little flutter that your heart gives the exact moment his eyes finally steal a brief glance back at your face—

…Yeah, this might be a serious problem.

What does one have to do to get a little peace in the middle of a haunted dormitory that’s almost crumbling down to its foundations, with a cat shooting fire left and right?

That was what you were thinking when a letter showed up carried along by a cascade of black feathers. It was as if peace and order didn’t exist in the vocabulary of this magic-filled school.

One moment Ramshackle was quiet, or as quiet as it could get with Grim arguing with one of the ghosts, who had stolen a can of tuna just to mess with him, and the next, a whirl of glossy black feathers burst in through the broken window and spiraled dramatically down onto the first steps of the lounge staircase.

“HEY! We’re under attack!” Grim growled, jumping back when the envelope landed with an unnecessarily theatrical thump on the coffee table. “Protect me, Henchman!”

You sighed, keeping Grim upright as he climbed up your arm until he settled on your shoulder. You picked up the letter and looked it over; burgundy-colored, with a wax seal faintly gleaming in gold.

A letter that screamed official and important no matter how you looked at it.

It definitely wasn’t a bill or some annoying request from the administration. Crowley never handed those out in person, much less with a flock of black feathers; which meant the bird-brained headmaster was nearby.

And with that, the front door swung wide open on its own with a creak.

“Well, well, my most honorable and dependable residents!” he said in a voice far too cheerful and far too polished, stepping into the dorm as if it belonged to him and not like he had dumped it on you in terrible condition. “What fortune to find both of you at home! Truly, the stars themselves align for the diligent!”

Grim shot him a flat look and narrowed his eyes. “When you talk like that it means nothing good”

Crowley brushed off the comment with professional skill. “My dear prefect,” he continued, turning toward you with a wide smile, his cape swishing as if he had practiced the move in the mirror about ten times. “I require your presence in my office immediately. It concerns a matter of prestige, honor, and, naturally, inter-academic relations”

In other words… trouble.

You glanced sideways at Grim; the cat met your look, and you murmured to him when you saw Crowley turn to head out of the lounge without even checking whether you were following or not. “Yeah, nothing good ever comes from him”

╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌

The office gleamed and buzzed more than usual, once again showing off dear Headmaster Crowley’s vanity.

The dorm leaders were gathered around the table, composed, radiating different levels of authority, boredom, or barely-contained chaos. Kalim was practically vibrating with happiness, just like Idia… although he was probably vibrating because he wanted to go back and lock himself inside his room; the fact that he was here, surrounded by people, was already an achievement.

Yes, obviously something was about to go down.

There were expectant looks from the others—except Leona, obviously. He was one step away from turning around and heading off to sleep in his usual spot in the botanical garden. The atmosphere had that specific tense shine that meant the announcement about to drop was going to be, indeed, catastrophic.

You took your place beside Kalim, who bumped your hip in greeting and grinned from ear to ear. You returned the gesture, lightly bumping his hip back, and let Grim settle himself on top of your head.

Crowley cleared his throat, which was always the beginning of one of his boring, overly theatrical, and unbearable monologues.

“My dear dorm leaders,” his eyes gleamed at the sight of the seven young men waiting in front of him. Grim coughed, and Crowley’s expression tightened slightly. “And prefect,” he continued. “Today we have received an extraordinary honor”

With a flourish, he raised seven invitations, seven burgundy letters with shining golden seals.

“Noble Bell College has kindly sent official invitations requesting the presence of representatives from Night Raven College at their upcoming cultural festival”

Your eyes widened. An event outside NRC, allowing you to explore more of this world and see another school; considering they barely let you leave for the nearby town on the Island of Sages, and RSA was still out of the question— that school was still a mystery to you.

So Noble Bell College would be your next magical stop.

Grim looked excited too, gripping your hair tightly and whispering to himself all the things he was already plotting in his small and chaotic head about what he was going to do: eat lots of tasty things, maybe sweets or bread, or tuna made in some way he had never tried before; the possibilities were endless for your little cat.

“And to enhance the experience, the school will treat this event as a masquerade. Isn’t that fascinating?”

Okay, the pinnacle of dramatics—very Twisted Wonderland and very Crowley… you like it.

Crowley was smiling like a man who definitely intended to send teenagers straight into imminent student chaos. He opened one of the invitations and read the contents in his characteristic dramatic voice.

“The event celebrates unity, refinement, and the highest traditions of academia. Naturally, they have requested our… most distinguished students. And of course this dear and most generous headmaster”

And that was where the seven invitations came into play. Seven letters addressed to each of the seven dorm leaders… and to no one else. He didn’t mention the vice leaders’ names, nor your name, nor Grim’s.

Crowley lowered the letter with a satisfied nod. “And with that, the official delegation is concluded”

On your end, silence. A small, polite silence, while the others were already straightening their postures, ready to hear when they would depart and how they should present themselves.

Then Crowley’s head tilted, looking forward, not directly at you, nor at Grim, as if remembering something slightly inconvenient. His eyes were fixed firmly on the office door.

“Ah! But of course… our reliable prefect!” he turned toward you with a bright, performative smile. “As the head of Ramshackle dorm, it would be inappropriate not to include you in this announcement. Transparency is the hallmark of this benevolent administration, after all.”

You heard Leona snort loudly, as if the words “benevolent administration” were completely accurate. If you weren’t harboring a bad feeling right then and there, you would have snorted along with him.

Grim puffed out his chest when he saw that the headmaster was now addressing his beloved henchman. “I knew it! We’re going to—”

“However…” Crowley cut him off, and you felt Grim’s tail deflate against the back of your head. The bird-brain laced his fingers together in front of him. “The invitation, unfortunately, extends specifically to recognized magical students who participate in the official exchange. As you do not possess any measurable magical ability…”

Grim opened his mouth to argue back, ready to launch a fireball that would leave him flat on his back after such humiliation.

“Master Grim, you and the prefect are essentially one student,” he cut him off again. “And given that Ramshackle is, shall we say, administratively… unique…” he made a vague motion with his hand, annoyed at having to find the word that best fit the situation without making it more tense than it already was.

Reading between the lines: you’re not invited, and neither is the cat. It’s not negotiable. Not even by accident.

Crowley gave a sympathetic nod, his eyes showing a very well-acted sadness. “How unfortunate! Truly unfortunate. Perhaps next time”

Next time… like being told there was no more of the cake you liked in the cafeteria and you’d have to wait until tomorrow to eat it. Or like being told you had to try a little harder on the next assignment.

As if you hadn’t literally fought overblots throughout the school year, monsters, ghosts, and whatever the hell lives in the school’s ventilation ducts.

Life isn’t fair, right?

The other leaders didn’t react strongly, but they didn’t give you the reactions you expected either. A couple of shrugs, Kalim looking at you with genuine sadness at not being able to enjoy the evening by your side.

Crowley broke the silence, and the damn spell, with a clap. “Very well then! Preparations begin immediately!”

The meeting dissolved into excited chatter from the headmaster and completely formal, rather critically thought-out discussion from the leaders. Malleus, in particular, looked especially fascinated by the idea of having been invited.

Grim’s tail flicked over your shoulder. “…they’re really not taking us”

The office suddenly felt a little louder… and a little farther away while the two of you watched the others discuss travel plans, formal attire provided by the school, speculation about the festival, music, foreign food.

“Make sure to keep the dorm in order while we’re away, prefect! Such an important responsibility!” Crowley waved a hand at you, signaling you were already dismissed from the meeting.

Grim’s ears flattened against his small head as you headed for the exit.

“…this is bullshit.”

“Yeah,” you huffed. “Yeah, it really is.”

The murmuring followed you out of the office like static.

Crowley was talking louder than usual, Vil was already arguing about the weight of the luggage and the makeup he’d have to do for everyone, yes, even Leona, whom you heard growl when Vil so much as mentioned it. Azul was bringing up the odds of expanding NRC’s prestige to other cities and colleges.

None of it helped.

Grim walked beside you on two legs, stomping down the hallway, his tail bristling, the claws of his hind paws visible and tapping against the stone.

“This is a total scam!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the stone corridor. “We beat ghosts, monsters, more overblots than I can count—”

“—and we still aren’t ‘official’ enough for a school trip,” you finished with the same level of offense.

“EXACTLY!” Grim threw his paws into the air.

You shoved the castle doors open harder than necessary, grumbling under your breath. That damn bird-brain was really getting under your skin; any moment now you’d kick him in the rear so hard you’d send him flying… if it weren’t for the small amount of money the school administration paid you.

The cool afternoon air hit your face, but it didn’t loosen the tight knot in your chest. The voices continued behind you, just as enthusiastic; a glance over your shoulder was enough to make you blow out a breath and start walking down the steps.

“Even Idia’s going,” you muttered.

Maybe bringing up the most antisocial and anxious guy in the school wasn’t the fairest or most honorable move right now, but you were really angry. Not at him, obviously, you were angry at the damn headmaster.

“RIGHT?!” Grim went down the steps jumping two at a time, ears pointed up and seconds away from shouting all the injustices he had suffered thanks to our beloved headmaster. “That guy considers opening his bedroom door a major life event!”

You flinched. “Okay, that was too much, Grim,” you said, your voice a little sharp, staring at the steps because you knew that the moment you took your eyes off the stone it was statistically likely you’d trip, considering the anger leaking out of every pore.

“Hey! You started it” He raised a paw and pointed at you.

“Yeah, well…” you continued, “I didn’t mean it to put him down. Idia comes from a prestigious family and has plenty of money...of course he got an invitation.” You crossed your arms as you reached the last steps. “What’s surprising is that he’s physically going”

Grim kicked a pebble down the steps and jumped the last stretch again.

“He’s physically going and we’re stuck here doing… what. Guarding our dorm from the ghosts we already live with?”

You crossed your arms tighter and rolled your eyes. “I can’t even step off campus without paperwork, supervision, or a miracle,” your voice came out laced with venom, and with every second you were losing what little patience you had left. Spiraling with a grumpy cat wasn’t helping the situation. “But sure, let’s send the entire walking disaster of NRC abroad”

“I should be famous,” he growled. “Hero Grim saves the day again! Where’s my cultural exchange, huh?”

You snorted a laugh despite everything. “Apparently saving the school multiple times doesn’t count as an extracurricular activity”

You crossed the courtyard, the fountain, the last stretch of stone that led toward the castle’s back doors and the path back to Ramshackle. The words kept coming out—half complaints, half that tired bitterness that shows up when something unfair hits a little too close.

When you reached the door, the bridge visible connecting the next stretch of poorly kept land, you stopped. Grim kept walking, now on four paws, and lifted his tail when he realized you had stopped and he was crossing the bridge alone.

You looked at the horizon, spotting the haunted house in the distance and the perfect midday sun over the skyline.

The idea began to take shape slowly, putting down roots little by little, but decisively. The solution to both your frustrations was right there; simple, obvious, both stupid and perfect.

“Why did you stop?” Grim asked, walking back toward you.

You didn’t answer right away. You let the idea keep forming in your mind, running through all the chances of it going right and the ones where it wouldn’t, mapping out everything needed for it to actually work.

Your fingers tapped against your arm. “…it’s a masquerade”

Grim tilted his head. “…yeah?”

Your eyes met his, now wide as he looked at you in a way he hadn’t all year. Your face carried an expression that meant trouble; the kind of trouble that historically ended in explosions, rule violations, accidental heroics, and at least three disciplinary reports from Crewel.

“A masquerade ball,” you repeated slowly, tilting your head toward him, silently urging him to catch on quickly. “Everyone wears masks”

Grim’s ears twitched.

“No one’s supposed to stand out,” you crouched down so you were closer to him. “No one’s supposed to know who’s who”

You let the words settle in his mind, letting the silence guide the realization. One second passed, two, three—until Grim’s eyes flew open wide, pupils dilating and his tail shooting upright as your words finally clicked.

“Oh… you’re kidding”

Your lips curled into a dangerous smile, the kind that promised a thousand reprimands if you got caught, but that would be worth every damn second.

“If no one knows who’s who,” you said quietly, making sure the conversation stayed between the two of you, “then no one knows who wasn’t invited either”

Grim gasped like someone had just handed him the keys to a kingdom made entirely of cans and cans of fresh tuna.

“Prefect… who would’ve thought you could be so devious”

“We definitely shouldn’t do this,” you said, staring at him.

“…but we’re going to do it anyway,” he shot back.

A second of silence passed. Then another. And a third.

“Yeah.”

“HEIST MODE!” Grim threw his paws in the air, jumping with excitement.

You shut the castle door, not a trace of frustration left on your face. No, that had disappeared, replaced by determination. Who would’ve thought your mind could be just as troublesome as Ace’s?

Your steps were decisive, and you didn’t head toward Ramshackle. If you were going to sneak into a cultural event where formality and proper attire were the currency, nothing in that dusty shack would do. No; there weren’t any clothes formal enough or well-made enough there without getting you exposed the moment you set foot, or paw, into the cultural event.

“We need supplies,” you said, veering off the path to the right, following the dirt road.

“Supplies to commit a crime?”

“Supplies to attend formally without prior authorization”

“…crime then,” Grim confirmed, running after you.

The path to Sam’s shop felt like walking deeper and deeper into a very bad idea; and at the same time, a very promising one. The campus stretched around you, wrapped in that late-afternoon haze where the stone towers glowed gold and the buzz of excitement over the news drifted through the cool air.

“Okay, but... I can’t just put on a mask and call it a day. I’m a talking, flame-shooting, very handsome cat”

“Yes, that’s the main problem” Sam’s shack was already in sight—just a few more yards and you’d step into territory both familiar and unknown, ready to show off its haunted wonders.

“My ears! My tail! My flames! My incredible natural charisma, nya!”

“Mostly the flames” you gave him a look.

Grim deflated a little. “…yeah, okay, the flames”

A few more steps and you were already standing in front of the shack. That mystical atmosphere around it always made the hairs on your arms stand on end.

You pushed open the crooked wooden door and a small bell chimed. The air inside the shop wrapped around you like warm smoke, carrying a faint scent of cinnamon, something that made the place feel both comforting and creepy. The shelves were stacked to the top with all kinds of things: enchanted fabrics, suspiciously labeled bottles, and objects that definitely moved when you weren’t looking straight at them. You could swear a pearl necklace you had seen on a shelf near the door was now resting on a display in the main window.

“Well, well,” Sam’s smooth, enchanted voice echoed through the shop from behind the counter. When he had gotten there, you had no idea—five seconds ago the counter had been completely empty. “If it isn’t my favorite prefect… and judging by the look on your face and on your cute and definitely not troublesome cat…” he leaned forward, “…you’re not here for anything legal.”

Grim puffed out his chest, slightly offended by the comment, but he was still the first to speak, or rather, yell.

“We need stealth!”

You’re never going to get that by shouting

Sam’s smile widened, as dangerous as someone could look while being the entrepreneur running one of the most useful and necessary shops on a school campus. “Say no more”

With a snap of his fingers, the counter suddenly looked like the backstage of a theatrical crime, or a theater dressing room, which worked better for carrying out the plan.

Masks, capes, gloves, fabric samples, a monocle that Grim definitely tried on and that you definitely didn’t let him keep; with the way he walked he’d break it any second.

Sam tapped the counter thoughtfully with one finger.

“So,” his voice sounded as soft as velvet, but you knew underneath it hid the layer of a hardened entrepreneur who always kept an enchanted clause up his sleeve, “you need formal masquerade outfits convincing enough… while hiding the presence of a highly combustible feline”

Grim bristled. “HMNYA! I’m not combustible—!”

“How did you know we needed masquerade outfits?” you cut in. Your eyes narrowed at Sam suspiciously.

“My Queen… nothing happens in this school without me hearing about it.” It was a vague answer, but also a very unsettling one. But this wasn’t the moment to stop and argue, so for now you let it slide.

“He’s the real problem. I can blend in with a dress—”

“And masking your scent.” You still weren’t used to the way Sam interrupted conversations to drop information as if you were already supposed to know what it meant.

“Excuse me?”

“If my informants haven’t failed me,” Sam drummed his fingers on the counter and gave you a sly look, “a certain lion and a high fae will be attending the event, meaning they would be the first to spot both of you just by catching your scent.”

Damn it. He was right.

“…okay, point taken” You sighed, resigning yourself to the fact that you’d have to pay for more than just fancy clothes. “With something to mask my scent, a dress, and a mask, I can blend in. But him…” you pointed at Grim without looking at him, “he needs to look… like a normal familiar.”

Sam hummed and gave Grim a full look from head to toe—and if it had been biologically possible, he would’ve circled him with his eyes.

“Not normal,” he corrected at last. “Expected”

“…expected?” you repeated, frowning.

Sam opened a drawer and pulled out a violet velvet cloak with a hood; deep, formal, the kind that screamed ceremonial elegance. Another of the great mysteries of Sam’s shop: who knows why the entrepreneur had a cloak exactly Grim’s size waiting inside a drawer.

“Cultural events in magical academies bring familiars all the time,” Sam commented as he adjusted the hood over Grim’s ears. “Magical creatures, bound spirits, enchanted companions. Half the time nobody even knows what species they are”

The cloak, now arranged over Grim’s small body, wrapped around him completely, barely showing his shape. The fall of the fabric looked heavy and dramatic; the flames of his ears illuminated the inside in a way that felt very theatrical and very on-theme. Then Sam added a carved masquerade mask, elongated, elegant, slightly decorated with claw-like details but still stylized enough to look ceremonial rather than suspicious.

Only Grim’s bright eyes were visible beneath the shadow of the hood and mask. Sam stepped back, admiring his work.

“With the hood down, the mask set properly forward, and strict instructions not to shout…”

Grim shifted his posture. Now almost none of his face showed and his tail was hidden neatly beneath the cloak. Suddenly he looked less like “chaotic campus threat” and more like “arcane familiar belonging to someone extremely important.”

“…wow,” Grim whispered when he saw his cloaked figure reflected in the glass of the counter.

“Pretty convincing,” you added.

Sam’s smile widened as he leaned over the counter, both hands holding up his head. “Exactly”

“I look expensive” Grim spun in a small circle to admire himself, the heavy cloak barely making a dramatic swirl and giving no hint that he might be exposed when he moved.

“You are expensive,” you shot back. “You eat like you’ve got a black hole in your stomach”

Grim decided to ignore you and kept spinning around admiring himself. Sam, meanwhile, straightened and clapped his hands once, making your attention snap back to him.

“Now for you, prefect”

Another snap of his fingers and a dress slid onto the counter—dark, outrageously expensive fabric, black brocade with elegant lace details and a red overlay that made the black stand out even more. Off-shoulder, low-cut, with a skirt that would obviously require a crinoline.

Elegant wasn’t the right word, it was more than that. It was refined, breathing opulence and formality. Semi-transparent sleeves, ruffles and lace layered over more lace.

“A mask that hides, not dazzles” Sam placed a light black fabric mask on the counter, decorated with brocade and gothic embroidery, soft to the touch and perfect for covering half your face. “The best disguise isn’t the loudest one…”

He set the last pieces down on the counter: a choker of black pearls with a rose in the center, the strands long enough that when worn they would drape over the shoulders; a pair of short black lace gloves; and a very gothic-style hat, pompous, with a fall of fabric that resembled a veil.

A very gothic set… perfect for a masquerade.

“…but the one no one remembers”

You lifted the dress carefully with both hands, making sure not to snag the lace on anything, not even the buttons of your uniform.

“…how much is this going to hurt?” you asked cautiously. You knew a dress this extravagant wasn’t cheap.

Sam leaned on the counter again. “Oh, don’t worry” He paused dramatically, clearly fascinated by how your whole body tensed as you worried internally. “This goes on credit”

“Oh… that’s worse,” Grim whispered in horror.

Sam burst out laughing and straightened again, quite satisfied with himself at the sight of the desperate, horrified expressions on both your faces.

“Relax. Consider it… an investment in the chaos the two of you are about to unleash at an international diplomatic event”

You and Grim exchanged a knowing look.

Yeah… that sounded about right.

╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌

Fleur City shone as if it had stepped straight out of a Renaissance painting.

The warm glow of lanterns spilled across the white stone streets, reflecting in long ribbons of gold and amber. Garlands of flowers hung from the balconies, woven so densely that the scent of wildflowers lingered in the air, sweet and heavy. From somewhere along the cobblestone corners came music: violins, laughter, the slow rhythmic pulse of festival trumpets.

Around you there were people, so many people. It was barely possible to walk peacefully through the streets. Carnival decorations and food and trinket stalls made both you and Grim stop every five steps.

And everywhere… masks. White porcelain, golden filigree, feathers, silks, velvet. Cloaks gliding over the stone and polished shoes gleaming in the lanternlight. There were no faces, no questions, no names.

You adjusted the delicate fabric mask slightly as you moved with the crowd, letting the flow of festival guests carry you naturally along the wide avenue leading to the central plaza. In the daylight the dress blended in exactly as Sam had promised: elegant and formal, perfectly matching the spirit of the festival—just another face in the tide.

Beside you, a small hooded figure walked with a rather exaggerated air of importance, little paws tapping lightly against the stone as he took one step, then another. Grim walked as if he were leading his own theatrical march toward the main stage.

“This is the best thing we’ve ever done in our lives” Even though his steps were determined, and fairly amusing to watch from your taller perspective, Grim’s words came out in a whisper; for once he had understood he needed to keep his voice down.

“You also said that when you stole extra pudding from the cafeteria” You gathered your skirt with one hand, adjusting it so you wouldn’t end up face-first on the ground. The dress was beautiful, yes, but the crinoline made walking a bit difficult.

“THAT WAS HISTORIC TOO!” Apparently his lesson in stealth hadn’t lasted long. You hid a smile behind the back of your hand.

Grim looked around at the glowing towers, the decorated bridges, the endless swirl of masked students and nobles. Your gaze drifted to the pink and violet decorations hanging between the rustic, colorful houses. One more step and you nearly collided with the long leg of someone obviously walking on stilts. You managed to turn in time and grabbed Grim so he wouldn’t get crushed under the wooden stilts.

“Woow” Grim settled into your arms and lifted his head to watch the person gracefully walking toward the end of the avenue. “This place is insane”

He wasn’t wrong.

Farther ahead there were people dressed in multicolored outfits—diamonds and pompoms, ribbons and exaggerated patterns showing off immense amounts of fabric in sleeves and trousers. Orange and red jesters, violet and burgundy ones too, with painted faces and five-pointed hats tipped with bells. The lantern lights flickered along the walls of the houses and the stone structures, turning the shop windows into vivid, deep colors. In the main plaza, dancers spun—skirts and cloaks flashing in carefully choreographed circles.

Everything around you looked mundanely normal, peaceful within the limits of what a carnival could call “peaceful.” No fire, no chaos, no problems to solve.

“With this many people, it’ll be impossible for them to find us,” Grim said as he jumped back down to the ground to keep walking.

“If you say it out loud, you’ll jinx it”

“Right. Silence. Stealth mode”

You moved deeper into the plaza, letting the enormous scale of the festival unfold around you. Masked performers breathed streams of colored fire, puppeteers staged small dramatic and amusing shows for the children, and the food stalls now had floating lanterns illuminating them in orange and ochre tones, making the shine of the food look even more appetizing.

Grim sniffed as he stopped in front of one of the stalls.

“…is that roasted meat?”

You sighed and grabbed him by the sides, lifting him until he was level with the food on the stall.

“One stall. And eat quietly”

“BEST HENCHMAN IN HISTORY!”

He jumped toward the vendor, still trying to look dignified in the ceremonial cloak—and failing completely the moment food entered the equation.

You shook your head, but you couldn’t stop the slow, dangerous smile spreading across your face as you watched him try to cram two roasted meat skewers into his mouth in one bite.

For the first time since the invitation announcement, the pressure in your chest eased. You hadn’t been left behind. You hadn’t been left out. This might not be entirely legal—and if you got caught the punishment would probably be worse than anything Ace and Deuce had ever gotten—but seeing Grim enjoy himself was worth every second you spent outside Ramshackle.

You’d do it again a thousand times. To hell with Crowley and his official invitations. You had the right to enjoy an event without worrying about running errands for the headmaster.

“Target located” Grim sniffed the air again after finishing the meat. “Honey buns with a light sugar glaze, ten steps ahead”

What a remarkable nose

“Grim, slow down,” you said, walking after him at a reasonably quick pace.

“You’re the slow one” Unfortunately, he had a point about the damn crinoline. You were starting to hate it a little more with every step.

You lifted the skirt with both hands, mentally calculating how much more you could afford to spend at the festival. Considering how much this cat ate, and how little you had managed to eat thanks to the nerves from traveling through the mirror, you’d have to find some way to stop Grim from devouring everything in sight.

“I said one stall!” You barely raised your voice, but Grim ignored you, as always when he didn’t want to hear that you were right.

As you followed him, out of the corner of your eye you spotted a pair of figures you absolutely did not want to spot heading your way.

On the other side of the plaza, near the staircase leading to the main road toward the cathedral, a very specific formation of figures held a perfect alignment: Crowley at the front, with seven leaders behind him, each displaying different levels of diplomacy, excitement, or boredom.

Riddle walked with a rigid posture even in this festive setting, though he wasn’t oblivious to the fun happening around him. Leona was slouched, visibly bored at being dragged into an official event. Azul carried himself with a calculating air, probably already visualizing his next clients. Kalim was the most energetic of them all, practically glowing even while standing still. Vil was sculpted perfection, every step immaculate. Idia was trying to occupy the smallest possible amount of physical and emotional space. And Malleus simply followed the flow of people, hands behind his back, looking around with complete fascination.

Crowley, meanwhile, walked with an annoyingly radiant and pompous stride while speaking with another figure: tall, composed, with a firm and controlled posture. If you had to guess, that person wrapped in an air of ceremonial authority must have been someone important from Noble Bell College.

Your throat let out a tiny squeak and your shoulders curled inward. You were in danger mode.

You stepped sideways, avoiding turning your back on them all, but also not walking backward so obviously that it would make it clear your focus was on those figures who weren’t threatening at first glance—but were extremely inconvenient for your enjoyment. You reached Grim just as he was about to buy a small honey bun and crouched to whisper in his ear.

“Don’t even think about moving”

Grim’s small body went completely rigid. “What’s going on?”

“If you turn two degrees to the left,” you continued, the dorm leaders getting closer and closer, “you’ll be in their direct line of sight”

Grim, completely ignoring your instruction, slowly followed your gaze, barely turning his body to get a good look. Then he inhaled so sharply he nearly vacuumed the honey bun straight into his mouth.

You clamped a hand over his mouth and grabbed his cloak, dragging him behind the stall and hiding behind the side canvas. The vendor shot you both an irritated look but said nothing, another customer was already asking for an entire bag of buns.

“Okay, new plan” You let go of Grim’s mouth but still signaled for silence. Now he had to act like a normal familiar. “We walk calmly in the opposite direction, and you… quiet”

Grim nodded with the intensity of someone trying very hard to be stealthy and stay out of trouble, still holding the sweet in one paw. You adjusted him on your arm and stepped away from the stall.

One step. Then another. And a third.

Someone in the crowd suddenly turned toward your direction. You bumped their shoulder, jolting back in surprise.

“—Sorry!” you blurted automatically, trying to step backward.

Exactly the wrong move.

Because stepping back made you collide with someone else in the crowd. Your shoe stepped on an expensive, heavy cloak, and as you lifted your foot to avoid ruining it further, your heel caught on the uneven stone. You felt your balance tip backward.

For one horrible second, the world tilted; the lantern light, the masks, the people, the realization of oh yes, this is how we die… physically or from embarrassment, falling face-first in front of a crowd.

But the fall never came.

A gloved hand shot forward and caught your wrist just in time, stopping you a few inches before disaster.

“…please be careful,” a smooth, composed voice said. “These festival streets can be treacherous if one isn’t paying attention”

You turned your head toward the voice and saw Azul looking at you with concern...but without the slightest hint of recognition. Your disguise was working perfectly, even in a situation as dangerous as the one you were currently in.

You straightened carefully, pulse hammering, but posture controlled. Out of nervous reflex you adjusted Grim’s hood so his face was completely hidden, forcing his body to hunch so he’d look like an ordinary cat.

“Thank you,” you said in a neutral voice, though anyone paying attention might have noticed the nervous edge and the faint grinding of teeth as you forced yourself not to scream.

Azul released your wrist slowly, waiting for you to fix your dress before stepping back to a polite distance, still close enough while observing you with that sharp, polite curiosity so characteristic of someone whose entire life ran on information.

Behind him, the others had already turned, abandoning whatever conversation they had been having. Six new pairs of eyes locked onto you—the young lady unlucky enough to collide with the octopus entrepreneur.

Grim made a small strangled noise inside his hood, and you felt a tiny vibration against your arm. It was obvious he wanted to bolt as fast as his four paws could carry him, and if you were honest with yourself… you wanted to do the same.

You didn’t look at anyone in particular; certainly not at Crowley, nor at the tall, composed figure representing Noble Bell College in this diplomatic procession. You made the smallest formal bow of your head, the kind appropriate for slipping by unnoticed even after such a collision. You even tilted your hat slightly lower to cover more of your face.

“Apologies for the collision. The crowd is… lively tonight”

Vil’s gaze traveled over you from head to toe. Knowing him, he was evaluating the outfit the way an art critic would analyze a gallery piece; or in this case, the way Vil always did, searching for wrinkles, imperfections, or cracks.

That crack was about to split wide open if he didn’t stop looking at you so intently.

“Finally someone who knows how to dress appropriately,” he murmured loud enough that everyone else heard.

“Hey! We’re all dressed for the occasion,” Kalim huffed, though he didn’t sound offended.

“Yes, because we were dressed” Vil replied.

If that was the case, then point to Vil.

“Watch where you’re stepping next time” Leona exhaled through his nose.

“That is no way to address a young lady!” Vil snapped back, shooting him the most venomous look imaginable without losing an ounce of grace or letting a single wrinkle touch his face.

Leona simply crossed his arms and held Vil’s stare. The tension between rivals was thick enough to feel.

Azul took the opportunity to cut through that tension and prevent an international incident. He inclined his head toward you again, adjusting his glove.

“Well then,” he said, extending his hand toward you, palm open and facing up, “please be careful, miss—”

Your entire body went rigid in a single heartbeat. On your arm, Grim was seconds away from combusting from the stress this situation was causing him.

You returned the slight bow of your head, just formal enough not to raise suspicion despite your heart pounding at a thousand beats per minute.

“Isn’t the whole point of tonight that we don’t ask those kinds of questions?”

There was a pause long enough for you to offer a sideways smile, hoping you hadn’t sounded rude.

Vil’s lips curled upward slightly, approving, almost amused, mentally acknowledging that at least someone knew the rules of the evening.

Azul’s smile changed immediately, shifting from his usual interrogation-ready expression to one suited for social performance.

“Ah,” he murmured. “Quite right. My mistake. A masquerade loses its charm when identities come to light”

Okay. The plan was working beautifully—far better than you had expected. You made a mental note to thank Sam for that potion masking your essence, since neither Leona nor Malleus seemed suspicious of anything.

“If it helps,” you said, testing the waters a little more to confirm your theory, “I’ve never seen figures quite so… unique” Your gaze drifted across each of them. “So your identities would remain a mystery—with or without masks”

Riddle gave a small nod at your comment. “Indeed. The evening discourages such personal revelations unless they are formally necessary”

Thank the Seven that Riddle bought it. And luckily for you, it seemed Idia had too, he was muttering in the background nonstop.

“Thank the gods… minimal social interaction with anonymity settings enabled…”

You let out a quiet breath through your nose, trying to keep it as subtle as possible despite the pressure tightening in your chest during such a surreal interaction. You bowed your head again, ready to give your farewell and move along, taking your first steps toward the plaza.

That should have been the end of it.

“Although…”

Damn it, Azul.

His voice rose again, smooth and composed, turning just enough to place himself at your side as you began to walk.

“It would be negligence on my part not to ensure the safety of the young lady I nearly caused to fall”

Vil moved at the same time, with a grace so natural it was almost insulting; suddenly you had two impeccably dressed elites flanking you like the most elegant bodyguards in the world.

“Cobblestone streets tend to be uneven—especially in heels,” Vil commented, evaluating your posture. Of course he would notice that beneath all those meters of expensive fabric you were wearing heels. Not very high, but high enough to alter your height. “And the crowd is quite enthusiastic, as you mentioned earlier. You shouldn’t be wandering alone”

Azul nodded slightly, adjusting his glasses. “Particularly when a certain tendency toward accidents has already been demonstrated”

The arm holding Grim tightened slightly, drawing a faint squeak from him that only you heard. You looked from side to side, first at Azul, then at Vil, and your gaze dropped straight to the cobblestones.

Oh no. This is very bad.

Behind you, Leona’s voice sounded rough.

“Hey. Don’t crowd her”

All three of you turned to look at him. Leona was dragging a hand down his face, visibly irritated by the situation.

Vil arched a brow, stopping with runway elegance.

“I beg you pardon?”

Azul did the same, forcing you to stop as well and remain right between them. The height difference, privately, was a little funny, if you hadn’t been the center of attention for a very irritated lion.

“I assure you we’re simply exercising proper courtesy,” Azul replied defensively

“Courtesy…” Leona scoffed. “That’s what they call it now?”

You heard Kalim whisper, “Are they flirting?”

And Riddle respond, sounding slightly tired of his classmates, “Knowing them… yes. They are flirting”

You wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

Leona shoved both hands into his pockets, leaning back slightly as he approached, glancing sideways at your two escorts.

“The girl almost fell. You caught her. End of story. You don’t need to start an escort mission for every stranger you run into”

Vil crossed his arms and offered him a sharp smile. “And since when do you care about social manners?”

“Since watching you two circle her like peacocks in heat started giving me a headache,” Leona shot back.

You let out a quiet snort, covering your mouth with your free hand. Grim seemed to snort too, barely holding back laughter, the vibration against your chest made it obvious.

Azul released a soft sigh and pressed his fingers to his temple. “Honestly, is it necessary to reduce every refined interaction to such vulgar interpretations?”

“Yes,” he replied without hesitation, flashing them a half-smile, fangs included. “It’s funny and irritating at the same time watching you act so confident about something that isn’t one of your contracts”

The situation would have been comedic if you weren’t still stuck in the middle of it—and if you weren’t one wrong sentence away from catastrophic exposure.

Unfortunately, you locked eyes with Malleus.

He looked taller than the last time you’d seen him. A glance down confirmed it—he was wearing heeled shoes. This fae added a few extra inches whenever he felt like it, and in the process made you look even smaller.

From his height, Malleus observed you in silence. One arm rested over the other, a finger beneath his chin, studying you. As if he were chasing an echo, something about your voice, your posture, the way you held your shoulders like someone used to dealing with chaos every day.

Your heart thumped harder in your chest.

You looked away and gave another small nod, taking a step back, hoping this time you could finally continue your evening.

“I appreciate the concern, gentlemen,” you said, keeping your voice calm and neutral even though internally you were screaming. “But I assure you I would hate to delay such distinguished guests during their evening”

Both Azul and Vil inclined their heads, accepting the farewell with grace. Leona simply clicked his tongue and turned back toward the others—he had been ready to leave five minutes ago.

With elegance you weren’t even sure where you pulled from, you stepped toward the crowd, letting the skirt spin slightly as the crinoline gave the movement the air of something taken straight from a royal etiquette manual.

“Ah…”

Just that single word was enough to cut off your second escape attempt and push your frustration even higher.

The same notable figure Crowley had been speaking with earlier approached the group. The Noble Bell College uniform was immaculate. Perfect posture, perfect alignment, an expression composed, though clearly carefully practiced to appear so.

“Gentlemen,” he said calmly, “if you would be so kind as to proceed. The welcoming is prepared at the academy, and the festival program is… quite structured”

Crowley, who five minutes ago hadn’t been remotely in sight, reacted immediately, suddenly appearing from behind you and making you jump.

“Ah! Of course, of course! We wouldn’t wish to delay such a beautiful evening!”

Then the student’s eyes shifted toward you, finally registering why the seven leaders had stopped or drifted away from their intended path instead of following him.

And in that precise moment, his gaze changed to recognition.

Recognition that didn’t look good.

Not good for you, anyway.

“I must apologize,” he said, stepping toward you and placing a hand over his chest. “It seems I have committed an unforgivable lapse in courtesy”

The student bowed in a formal, precise, respectful greeting.

“I have spoken with these distinguished guests,” he continued, voice calm and controlled, “and yet I have neglected to acknowledge the presence of a lady among us. Such negligence falls below the standards of Noble Bell College… and my own.”

He straightened with the same refinement with which he had bowed and extended his hand toward you. In your stunned state, you noticed Grim become so perfectly still he could have won a gargoyle contest.

“I am Rollo Flamme,” he said. Now you could finally put a name to the face. “President of the Student Council and host of tonight’s ceremony”

Of all the people you could have drawn attention from at this event, it had to be the highest authority in the entire academy. The host himself. The worst possible person.

“And regardless of the anonymity permitted at this celebration,” Rollo continued, “it remains my responsibility to ensure that every guest within our city is treated with dignity and appropriate protection”

With his palm still extended, he took your hand and bowed again slightly, pressing a kiss against your gloved knuckles. His eyes remained locked onto yours, sharp, observant enough to make you swallow hard.

“Welcome to the festival”

Rollo straightened again and folded his hands in front of him.

“You have indicated that you do not wish to delay these gentlemen,” he continued solemnly. “A considerate sentiment”

There was a pause—and it felt heavy, considering this man still hadn’t taken his eyes off you. If you ran now he would notice. Obviously he would notice your nerves and terrible manners, and you’d look incredibly suspicious.

“But allowing a lady to wander the festival without escort amid such a crowd would be an equivalent lapse in decorum”

Vil offered him an approving smile, and judging by the look Leona was giving the blond from behind, your escape plan was now miles away from happening.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Leona muttered.

Rollo turned halfway toward the dorm leaders and Crowley. “I trust one of you would be willing to provide a brief escort to guarantee her safe passage before rejoining us at the academy”

Kalim, being the sweet, trusting, hyper-energetic Kalim, immediately raised his hand.

“Oh! I can—”

“Absolutely not,” whispered Idia in a panic. “You’ll get lost in these weird streets and probably end up buying the entire festival”

Kalim pouted but didn’t argue.

Azul stepped forward, trying to appear smooth but looking a little too eager to close this contract. “As it happens, I’m already somewhat familiar with the young lady—”

Vil moved at the same time and cut him off. “And I, naturally, would never allow someone dressed so exquisitely to be abandoned to the chaos of the central plaza”

Why do I always have to deal with the chaos? Why?

The plan had been simple: jump through the mirror without the academic staff noticing, lose yourself in the cobblestone streets, avoid eight walking disasters of charisma and complications, eat festival food, take a couple of pictures with Grim, and go home.

The universe really hates me

Crowley, watching the scene half-delighted and half-offended that he wasn’t the center of attention, fanned himself dramatically. “Ah, such gallantry among my students! How my heart swells! You seven are the pride of Night Raven College!”

Rollo folded his hands behind his back, perfectly composed.

“There you have it,” he said calmly. “A simple solution”

And with that, Crowley and Rollo continued on their way toward who knows where—leaving you with seven distinguished students and one problematic cat who was internally seconds away from exploding or fainting.

The procession moved forward...there really was no other word for it.

The dorm leaders walked in immaculate formation along the lantern-lit avenues, and in the middle of that flock you were trying with all your strength not to implode from stress. Grim shifted into both your arms, leaning against you; it was safer that way in case he wanted to whisper something instead of accidentally yelling something incriminating. Now he sat like a very tense, very judgmental decorative accessory beneath his velvet hood.

Kalim bounced closer first. “So! You’re from another school?” he asked cheerfully.

Alright. Time for lies—and the greatest skill for stealth missions: improvising without hesitation.

“I’m not part of the official exchange,” you said calmly, which was technically true. “I came with my family”

Which wasn’t entirely true… though if you counted Grim and the seven people around you who apparently didn’t know the definition of personal space, then maybe it was a… creative reinterpretation.

Azul also approached, much closer than necessary. “I see. Attending an event of this scale independently suggests either excellent connections… or excellent planning”

Vil added lightly, adjusting his sleeve where a button had come undone. The small imperfection clearly offended him. “Or excellent taste”

The button snapped back into place and his gaze returned forward, specifically toward you. “No one assembles such an outfit without understanding the magnitude of the evening”

You turned slightly and offered a half-smile. “I had help.”

Extremely true. Sam deserved several medals, and probably hazard pay.

Grim shifted in your arms, trying to lean closer to whisper something, but halfway through his cloak snagged on your sleeve and you had to adjust him quickly before the hood slipped and exposed him.

Of course Azul noticed the movement beneath the cloak. “And that little companion?”

Dangerous question.

“This?” you tightened your grip slightly. “He’s my brother’s familiar. I’m taking care of him while he’s away at Night Raven College”

Malleus finally joined the conversation. One step brought him only inches behind you. “A creature temporarily bound under your supervision”

His voice was so deep you almost felt it rather than heard it. A chill ran down your spine. “That explains such an elaborate cloak. A responsible choice on your part. You understand how to present the creature with the dignity it deserves”

Grim puffed up slightly beneath the fabric.

“He appears loyal,” Malleus added, his voice calm and serene now, still close, but with the strange sense of omniscience that came from his towering height.

At the comment, Grim let out a small emotional squeak and fought very hard not to respond. You rested a hand over his back through the hood. “He is,” you nodded.

Also extremely true… sometimes… when it suited him… especially when food was involved.

“What kind of creature is the familiar?” Kalim asked, leaning closer again, dangerously close to stepping on your skirt.

You grabbed the fabric with one hand while adjusting Grim onto your shoulder. “He’s a cat. A bit grumpy, especially in the mornings.”

No lie there. Grim tried to object, maybe by digging his claws slightly into your shoulder, but before he could you bounced him upward a little. He made a tiny complaint and stayed still.

“So cute!” Kalim said excitedly. “Hey! Does he need something to eat?”

“No! No!” you answered quickly. “He’s fine, he already ate a lot a few minutes ago.”

The last thing you needed was for this ray of sunshine to feed him the way he had with cookies back in Scarabia.

“Your familiar eats human food?” Riddle asked, clearly puzzled.

“…sometimes”

You wobbled slightly as if thinking, though really you were scrambling for the right words to fix the mistake you’d just made. “Not much—mostly fish. But there was a familiar food stall a few blocks from the central plaza, so I bought him a little treat”

You patted him gently to demonstrate how well-behaved he was.

“Aww, what a shame,” Kalim deflated. “I would’ve liked to feed the little guy”

The little guy shifted slightly, probably remembering the same thing: the time Kalim had stuffed him with endless cookies. Grim shrank into your shoulder and whispered barely audibly.

“Prefect… when we’re done, I want another snack”

That sounded so Grim you had to pinch him to keep the humiliation of staying quiet from going to his head.

“Don’t be discouraged,” Azul said, stepping beside Kalim. “We were allowed to enjoy the festival, so we may indulge a little in the culinary arts of this city”

“You’re right!” Kalim brightened instantly. “We can try the éclairs! Or croissants! Baguettes! The honey buns from that stall behind us!”

What a combination of flour and carbohydrates. But it sounded so good...and sooo necessary.

All day Grim hadn’t let you eat in peace except for breakfast, the little gremlin had devoured snack after snack. You, on the other hand…you were actually starving.

Maybe the discomfort showed on your face, or maybe your stomach growled beneath all those layers of fabric. Either way, Vil noticed.

“Perhaps we could offer our escorted young lady something sweet?” His hands folded behind his back as he leaned slightly toward you.

“That seems appropriate, although…” Riddle added thoughtfully, “young lady, would you actually like us to treat you to something?”

In theory, yes. In practice… was it sensible to let them buy you something? You really did want to eat, and you hadn’t brought much money. Well...Grim had already spent more than half of it on everything he’d devoured, plus a small trinket he bought from a craft stall.

“I wouldn’t want to trouble you with such a triviality,” you began calmly. “It would be imprudent—”

“Nonsense!” Kalim cut you off. “We can buy you anything you want!”

Before you could even think of a counterargument, he had already rushed to a nearby stall and paid for five different types of sweets. The others stopped to wait for him, and you took the moment to adjust your skirt and Grim on your shoulder. Standing still, Grim quietly stretched himself across both shoulders like a scarf and settled there, balanced enough for when you started walking again.

“Can I eat some of what he brings?” he whispered.

“No,” you whispered back, barely moving your lips.

When Kalim returned, he carried two paper bags in both hands.

In one bag he had bought eight different flavors of macarons—some common ones like chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla. Others were bizarre flavor combinations you would have preferred to donate to the ghosts of Ramshackle.

In the other bag were two chocolate éclairs, two pains au chocolat, two crescent pastries with a bright glaze, and two honey-cinnamon puff pastries.

A direct trip to diabetes.

The bag with the assorted sweets he handed to Riddle with such enthusiasm that the redhead actually leaned back a little from the force. Riddle blinked once, twice, then opened the bag and tilted his head to inspect the contents. He passed an éclair to Idia, who took it with a trembling hand and immediately retreated to eat it where no one could see him.

With the other bag still in hand, Kalim offered you a strawberry macaron. “Here! Take it! My treat!” he said with the brightest, warmest smile you had ever seen at NRC.

You hesitated for a second, but the sweet was so perfectly made, round and glossy, that refusing it would have felt like a crime. You took it delicately with your fingers and gave it a small bite instead of shoving the whole thing into your mouth out of habit. You might have been hungry, but manners and appearances mattered right now.

“How is it? Is it good?” Kalim was already handing out the other macarons to the rest, even to Leona, who took one between two fingers and inspected it with mild disinterest.

“It’s delicious. Thank you for such a generous gesture” You took another bite and the macaron was gone. You brushed your hands together and were about to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, but stopped yourself, licking your lip to catch any crumbs.

Riddle pulled a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and offered it to you. “Here”

You took it with slight embarrassment and wiped the corners of your mouth. When you tried to return it, he shook his head. “Don’t worry. You can keep it”

You looked down at the handkerchief, delicate, red with black embroidered details. His initial stitched neatly in one corner. It had the look of something personal, perhaps a gift from his mother or something he had commissioned himself.

“Are you sure?” you asked, uneasy about keeping something so personal.

“I’m sure. It’s a handkerchief, it doesn’t carry emotional weight” He accepted the bag of sweets back from Kalim as the other boy handed him a macaron.

You looked at the handkerchief again and folded it neatly in four. The only problem now was where to put it. A mischievous idea crossed your mind for less than a second: tuck it between your breasts the way people used to do to tease admirers.

But no. You absolutely could not do that...though it would have been hilarious.

Instead, you slipped it into the folds of your skirt, improvising a small pocket. After adjusting the dress and crinoline again, you waited for the group to resume walking. The sun was beginning to dip, the first orange rays of evening spreading across the sky.

This time Leona resumed walking beside you.

His stride was heavy, hands in his pockets, his expression carrying such profound boredom it could qualify as an art form. You had no idea what he had done with the macaron; whether he ate it or casually discarded it somewhere with stealth so refined that no one noticed.

All the while he had been watching you fuss with your skirt, holding it with one hand so it wouldn’t tangle around your feet.

Then, with the faintest sigh, as if remembering he shouldn’t be too obvious about observing others, he stepped a little closer.

“Watch your step,” he murmured low enough that only you could hear. “These streets are uneven”

It sounded suspiciously like Azul’s earlier warning, but filtered through Leona’s flavor of bluntness.

Before you could answer or adjust your pace properly, he extended his arm, wiith no ceremony, as if it meant absolutely nothing to him.

But the gesture itself was pure etiquette.

“If you trip again,” he added in a flat tone without even looking at you, “that bird’s going to make us repeat this whole escort nonsense. I’m not dealing with that again”

In simple terms: take Leona’s arm so this ends faster.

Your eyes drifted to his face, half-hidden behind a mask, his hair tied in a simple ponytail. His lazy aura was still there, but layered beneath it.

Even if he showed little interest in events like this, the fact that he was wearing a mask at all was already significant. To you—the mysterious, nameless young lady—he was simply another stranger. You had no reason to recognize the second prince of Sunset Savanna.

And that gave him the advantage. If he wanted to act with the princely manners he had unfortunately been taught, he would use them, especially if it earned him a few points in front of the others. If everyone else was interacting with you, he wasn’t about to sit out.

To the passing crowd, it simply looked like a stranger offering steady support to a young woman in a crowded foreign city whose shoes were poorly suited for cobblestones.

You gently hooked your hand around his arm. “Thank you”

Leona said nothing, just clicked his tongue and gave the faintest nod.

The streets narrowed as you moved toward the academy district. The lanternlight softened. The crowd thinned just enough that conversation no longer sounded like shouting over the festival and began to feel… almost private.

Which unfortunately meant questions; Polite ones, curious ones, persistent ones.

Kalim, as usual, took it upon himself to begin. “So how did you arrange this visit?” he asked. “You said you didn’t come with the official delegations”

“That’s right,” you replied—truthfully. “My family organized the trip. I’m mostly… exploring while they attend to their obligations.”

Which, technically, was also true.

Azul slipped smoothly into the conversation. “Exploring an unfamiliar city suggests remarkable confidence,” he said, adjusting his glasses and smiling the way he did just before landing a new client. “Or considerable experience”

“A bit of both”

“Have you attended events of this scale before?” Riddle asked next, his tone measured but curious rather than strict. “The protocol at gatherings like this can be… overwhelming”

“Not exactly like this,” you admitted. “But I’ve dealt with large gatherings. And… unpredictable situations”

Behind everyone, you heard Idia mutter quietly: “…that sounds like nightmare difficulty in social interactions…”

Frankly, the poor guy already looked like he was about to log out of the event if they didn’t reach their destination soon.

“Yet you don’t seem intimidated,” Malleus said, speaking over Idia’s murmuring.

“I learned that most disasters start the same way,” you replied, pausing to choose your words carefully. “If nothing is exploding yet and no one is screaming… things are usually going well”

That comment earned you seven pairs of eyes.

Because what you had just said perfectly summarized life at a certain academy where mornings often began with students yelling, magic spiraling out of control despite professors supposedly teaching discipline, and overblots happening far too often.

Leona glanced sideways at you and huffed thoughtfully. Azul simply folded his arms and seemed to consider your answer.

“An interesting philosophy,” he said, tapping his fingers against his arm. “Quite pragmatic… and resilient”

Grim shifted slightly on your shoulders, practically vibrating with the effort not to shout HNYA, we’ve fought literal overblots every month, you have no idea!

You scratched his head lightly over the hood as a warning, and the trembling stopped. Riddle stepped forward slightly and inclined his head toward the gesture, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

“Your brother must trust you greatly if he left his familiar with you”

“He does,” you nodded.

Riddle responded with a thoughtful hum. “Responsibility reflects well on both of you”

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye and smiled.

If he knew how responsible you really were—sneaking into a festival and academic event without authorization, in a country far from the island, in a world you barely understood—well… that comment would collapse like a badly built card tower.

But as you watched him, you also noticed something else.

The way Riddle politely guided passersby out of your path. Azul adjusting his pace so you wouldn’t have to walk faster. Vil subtly steering the group away from the rougher patches of cobblestone without saying a word. Even Idia hovered closer than usual, like some socially terrified wizard who had nonetheless decided he was the party’s defensive mage in a DnD campaign.

Leona kept his stride steady beside you, perfectly matching your pace. And Malleus remained watchful, hands ready to guide a passerby aside or catch you if you stumbled.

The shift was obvious, they weren’t escorting a random girl anymore...They were engaging with her.

“It’s unusual to meet someone at this sort of event who speaks as directly as you do,” Azul said, almost as if the conversation he wanted was simply… a conversation.

Vil nodded from the front of the group. “Most attendees here are desperately trying to impress,” he said, turning his head toward you. “Whereas you, my lady, manage to impress simply by walking”

“And you’re easy to talk to too! It’s really nice!” Kalim added brightly.

From behind you, Idia muttered: “…low-pressure NPC with unexpectedly high dialogue quality…”

Oh. My. Sevens.

They’re flirting.

They are actually flirting.

And they have absolutely no idea that the person they’re flirting with is you—the extremely human, magicless prefect who attracts catastrophic overblot-level disasters like seasonal colds. All you needed was a mask, an expensive dress, and no identity.

Suddenly the seven of them were treating you like royalty.

Your cheeks flushed faintly pink. Part of you wondered—just for a second—if you could take advantage of this a little longer. It wasn’t every day these well-trained disasters behaved like gentlemen.

Another part of you was on the verge of imploding because the same seven who usually competed in ego wars (Kalim excluded) now seemed oddly invested in your company.

Please do not let this night end with all seven of them having a crush on me.

You would never survive looking them in the eye tomorrow. One or two you could handle.

Seven? That would end in a battlefield.

Ahead of you, the academy gates came into view. Tall. Ornate. Illuminated by elegant lanterns while guests streamed inside.

The perfect place for this illusion to end, before their gazes got any more intense. Your steps slowed slightly, and the others adjusted automatically.

Beyond the gates, upper balconies glowed with light and stained-glass windows scattered multicolored shards across the courtyard.

Vil glanced toward them. “A beautiful aesthetic, exactly what one would expect from the student council president,” he commented, violet eyes bright with approval. “Fleur City always delivers the finest spectacles”

Leona exhaled softly beside you. “Tch. If this thing runs longer than it should, I’m leaving”

Your lips curled faintly upward. That was such a Leona comment.

And then Idia, apparently unusually chatty tonight, talked loud enough for everyone to hear. “…pretty sure this ends with a final boss spawning in the middle of the hall at biblical difficulty…”

You couldn’t stop the laugh.

You tried to make it sound like a small huff—but the laugh slipped out naturally. Bright, familiar, too familiar.

The sound hung in the air like a memory someone had just pulled out of a locked drawer. Leona’s arm stiffened under your hand; Azul’s eyes sharpened; Vil tilted his head; Kalim blinked; Riddle froze; Idia looked like someone who had just connected two impossible dots; And Malleus’s gaze deepened.

Your pulse skyrocketed, you closed your eyes for half a second and pressed your lips together.

Idiot.

You cleared your throat quickly and stepped back. “I'm sorry,” you said lightly, smoothing your tone. “Just… the moment”

You released Leona’s arm. Another step back gave them space as the academy gates loomed only a short distance away.

“I believe this is where our paths separate,” you said with an elegant bow. “You have fulfilled your duty admirably”

Azul recovered first. “Well,” he said, though his eyes were still attentive, “this has been… unexpectedly pleasant.”

Kalim waved energetically. “I hope you enjoy the rest of the festival!”

Leona looked at your hand, then folded his arms again. “Watch where you step.”

Malleus returned your bow with one hand over his chest. “If fate allows it, I would welcome another conversation.”

You straightened. “Then perhaps fate will be kind.”

You picked Grim up in both arms, because you needed something to do with your hands, and turned toward the academy entrance.

One step...then another. Trying to look composed, just another guest entering the celebration.

Internally? You were about three seconds away from completely losing your nerve.

╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌

The moment the academy doors swallowed you, you didn’t stop, nor you didn’t slow down; in fact, you sped up.

You didn’t admire the architecture, the vaulted stone corridors, the candlelit banners, the elegant streams of guests drifting toward the grand hall.

You took a side corridor, then another, then passed through an open arch into a quieter cloister, with tall windows and ivy climbing the walls. Only when the distant noise of the courtyard softened into a manageable murmur did you finally exhale.

“…Okay,” Grim whispered from your arms. “…we’re still alive.”

“Barely.” Your lips tightened, the pressure in your chest still fighting to break free.

“That laugh almost killed us.”

“I know, Grim.” You leaned against the cold stone column and adjusted his hood so you could see his face.

“…those idiots seemed to like you, huh?” His eyes bulged slightly, and judging by his posture he was as close to a stress-induced meltdown as you were.

You shut your eyes at the memory. “Don’t remind me… that’s a problem”

“I’m glad to see my earlier concern wasn’t unfounded”

The lantern light flickered softly across the cloister floor. Somewhere deeper inside the academy, the music began again, more structured now, more ceremonial.

Why? Why can’t I have one moment of peace?

Your spine stiffened instantly, you turned.

At the entrance of the cloister stood Rollo with a posture so perfect it could belong to a movie villain. Hands clasped behind his back, expression calm and attentive. The lanternlight traced a warm outline around him… almost like flames.

“I trust the escort provided by Night Raven College proved sufficient,” he said calmly. Grim froze again like a gargoyle—after ducking his head and burrowing into your chest.

You inclined your head politely. “More than sufficient, President Flamme. Your hospitality is… thorough”

“It is my responsibility,” he replied. “A host must ensure that no guest experiences discomfort within our city”

He stepped closer, not intruding, simply shortening the conversational distance with careful etiquette. “I must admit,” he continued, thoughtful rather than stern, “it is rare to encounter attendees whose affiliation is not immediately apparent”

Another step forward. You stayed exactly where you were, clutching Grim like a plush toy.

“May I ask…” he said, choosing his words carefully, as if trying to avoid creating a scene, “whether you come from another academy?”

You didn’t allow yourself to hesitate. “My family travels frequently. I accompany them this season” The answer came out quickly, too quickly to sound completely natural.

Which, technically… wasn’t entirely false.

If one ignored the circumstances of that accompaniment.

“And do you personally practice magic?”

A simple question. Simple—and judging by the atmosphere this man radiated, a dangerous one. You didn’t know why, but the way Rollo always remained composed and asked such direct questions made something in your instincts prickle.

Your gaze dropped briefly to Grim as you scratched his head, forcing a small smile like you were remembering a relative who didn’t actually exist.

“My brother is the gifted one in the family” You looked back at him. “He’s the one formally enrolled at Night Raven College”

Rollo’s eyes sharpened slightly. “I see” His gaze lowered toward Grim’s hood. “And that bundle is a familiar, I assume?”

“Correct,” you replied, adjusting Grim again; your arms were starting to ache. The cat was definitely getting fat. “He belongs to my brother, I care for him while he’s occupied.”

His eyes studied you for a moment, like someone inspecting the symmetry of a cathedral window. If he was looking for something suspicious, he didn’t say it aloud.

But he made you sweat. A cold drop slid down your spine, you were getting tired of this much stress.

“How fortunate,” he said at last, allowing you to breathe again. “To have family capable of assuming such responsibility”

He and Riddle would probably get along, you thought. Both had that particular pride in responsibility and decorum. Which made it odd that Rollo wasn’t currently with the NRC delegation discussing formalities with Riddle.

Why wasn’t he there with them?

“In my experience,” Rollo continued quietly, walking past you to look toward the garden beyond the cloister, “those born without magic often develop… a clearer perspective on consequences”

You frowned slightly, unsure where that comment was going. “Perhaps,” you replied neutrally.

His gaze returned to you. Now he stood directly in front of you, but his posture wasn’t interrogative, although something about the moment felt like the beginning of a tense conversation.

Great. Add another person to the list of people you had to be careful speaking around. As if dealing with every student at NRC wasn’t already exhausting enough.

“At Noble Bell, we place great value on the upbringing of our guests,” he said. His voice remained firm and formal. “Often, that reveals more than titles or affiliations”

A polite way of saying tell me about your background.

And what a background that was.

“What does your family do, if I may ask?”

Your eyes widened slightly. You remembered questions like this from your own world...a little classist, a little creepy, if you were being honest.

Your mind started spinning. Whatever you said now would have consequences—and could unravel your lie instantly.

Rich merchants? Too easy to verify. Minor nobility? Far too risky. Foreign lineage? Absolutely not.

You needed something visible, difficult to check, socially plausible… and open to interpretation.

“…performance,” you said finally, tilting your head with a small smile.

Rollo narrowed his eyes slightly, mirroring the tilt of your head. “Performance”

“My family works within musical circles.” You stepped toward the cloister columns, letting your eyes drift toward the small garden to buy yourself a breath of space from his scrutiny. “Ceremonial events, private patronage, festivals like this… occasionally.”

Technically…not entirely false.

If one counted the endless chaos-filled performances NRC dragged you into cleaning up afterward.

“And you?” he asked, moving to stand beside you.

“Me… what?” You had been staring at a flower you thought was an orange lily-of-the-valley and hadn’t processed the question. Your body turned slightly toward him, hip angled casually.

“What do you practice?”

“Ah…” Your expression faltered for half a second in embarrassment. You hadn’t prepared that answer.

“Vocal training.” Your eyes returned to the garden. “Beginner”

If yelling at Grim every morning so he wouldn’t make you late for class counted as vocal training. Or shouting at Ace and Deuce when their clown-level stupidity dragged you into disasters. Enough practice to develop excellent lungs.

“Singing,” you finished.

For one terrible second you thought you had overplayed it. But Rollo didn’t react, he simply nodded.

“A disciplined art,” he said. His brows lifted slightly, careful not to appear judgmental. “Music, when practiced with devotion, reflects order.”

He extended his hands in front of him, left hand outward. “Structure” Right hand outward. “Harmony” His palms opened, fingers long and precise. “The sacred ceremonies of this city rely greatly on vocal precision.” His head turned toward the distant sound of a choir rising from the main hall. “A poorly trained chorus can ruin an entire liturgical sequence”

You followed his gaze toward the archway leading to the side corridor and listened to the choir for a few seconds. “I prefer small audiences.”

“A wise preference,” Rollo nodded, exhaling softly in time with the rising harmony of the chorus. “True refinement rarely requires spectacle”

You leaned slightly to study his face—pure curiosity. His expression softened for a moment under the layered voices of the choir, as if the music were something sacred to him.

The moment lasted only a few seconds. Then he composed himself again, hands folded neatly before him, his attention returning to you. You straightened as well.

“You speak with unusual composure for someone outside the academic delegations,” he said, stepping closer. “Most visitors tonight are eager to attract attention”

You pressed your lips together in a small thoughtful pout, tilting your head toward the music as if weighing the idea. Thinking, and thinking.

“It’s easier to listen first…” You gave him a crooked smile. “Attention can be exhausting sometimes”

Rollo exhaled again—subtle, but visible. “Yes…” His eyes lingered on yours. “…it certainly can be”

Then, like a dramatic punctuation mark in a poorly timed story, a massive bell rang out. The sound cracked through the academy like thunder; deep, heavy and close. The vibration rolled through the stone around you.

“It seems the ceremony is about to begin.”

You turned toward the corridor as the footsteps of guests echoed more strongly through the halls, a tide moving toward the grand hall.

Rollo adjusted his attire, the robe, even the large hat, then extended his hand to you exactly as he had earlier in the plaza, the other hand behind his back.

“It would be improper to allow a guest unfamiliar with the academy to navigate the inner corridors alone during a formal assembly”

Ah… damn

“I will escort you personally.” There was no room for debate. Decision made. End of discussion.

Refusing now would be far more suspicious than accepting.

“You are very thorough, President Flamme,” you said with a bow that nearly reached the floor, holding Grim with one arm and your hat with the other so it wouldn’t slip.

“Thoroughness prevents disorder,” he replied calmly.

He waited patiently for your hand. When you placed it in his, his fingers closed gently around yours. The cold edge of his ring brushed your skin even through the glove. “This way”

The academy corridors unfolded ahead of you. Candles lined the walls in strict rows, the stained glass windows were fading under the last rays of sunset. Immaculate white columns framed the space while the ceremonial atmosphere gathered like a curtain before a stage performance.

“For someone outside the formal delegations,” Rollo commented as you approached the reading hall entrance, “you carry yourself with remarkable composure”

“I’ve learned to adapt quickly,” you said, tilting your head slightly. That, at least, was the most honest thing you had said all day.

“A valuable skill.”

Grim’s small claws pressed into your sleeve, his silent signal that things were going very wrong.

Ahead, the corridor opened. Golden light from enormous chandeliers flooded the hall, marble floors gleamed beneath towering stained-glass pillars, the ceremonial music swelled as hundreds of voices gathered at the center.

Rollo slowed his pace as you approached and gently guided you closer so the entire hall opened before your view.

“The seating is organized by delegation,” he explained, gesturing upward with his free hand. “However, independent guests may observe from the upper galleries”

Translation: He was personally installing you in the best observation point in the building.

Most likely surrounded by staff, highly visible, no escape routes.

Wonderful.

He pointed toward a marble staircase rising along the hall wall. “From there you will have a perfect view”

You lifted your gaze toward the upper gallery, marble and stone just as ornate as the rest of the hall, and quite spacious.

“If you require anything, attendants will be nearby” Then he released your hand.

Standing straight as a ceremonial statue, he bowed once more—legs aligned perfectly like a prince finishing a formal greeting. “I trust the presentation will justify your attendance”

And with that, he left.

Once again, you were alone with Grim.

“…hey… henchman…” a small whisper came from inside the cloak.

“…yeah?” You still hadn’t taken your eyes off Rollo’s retreating figure down the corridor.

“We have VIP seats”

“…yeah”

Grim sighed. You felt his tail go limp across your shoulder. “…this night is going spectacularly”

You released a long breath. “…absolutely.”

Then you turned and started up the stairs.

╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌

The bell never finished its final resonance.

One moment the reading hall was perfectly synchronized with the ceremony, waiting for the famous magical bell artifact to sound… and the next moment fire.

Not the warm glow of decorative candles lining the hall. Not a ceremonial brazier. Not a controlled magical flame meant to add theatrical flair.

These were real flames, hungry ones, full of magic—and disturbingly selective.

They burst upward along the cathedral columns in violent ribbons of orange while the massive bell roared like a living thing. Heat tore through the hall, guests screamed, the polished order of the ceremony collapsed instantly into panic.

“My magic—!” “It’s not activating!” “What’s happening?!”

The sound spread in waves, confusion becoming fear, fear becoming absolute chaos.

From the upper gallery, smoke already curling over the carved railing, you clutched Grim tightly to your chest.

“This has officially turned into a disaster!” you inhaled as deeply as you could, staring down at the inferno rising below.

“HNYA!! FOO! FOO!” Grim tried blowing at the approaching flames. “PREFECT, THE FIRE’S GETTING CLOSER!”

“I CAN SEE THAT!”

Guests surged toward exits in disorganized waves, assistants shouted directions nobody followed, sparks rained down as part of the decorative canopy collapsed in a burst of embers.

You backed against the stone wall, keeping distance from the fire. The flames were climbing quickly now, you could feel them licking the hem of your skirt. You yanked the fabric away and moved sideways along the wall toward the corridor exit.

“If this dress burns,” you said with deadly seriousness, even as the smoke made your breathing ragged, “I swear by the Seven, Grim, I will make you work overtime to pay off our debt to Sam”

“THAT’S YOUR PRIORITY RIGHT NOW!?”

“DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH THIS FABRIC COSTS?!”

A small explosion cracked beside you and you hurried your steps. You pulled off your hat and held it over your nose, shielding both you and Grim from the smoke.

The bell thundered again. But now it wasn’t announcing a ceremony, or the hour, or the arrival of magic into a new era.

It was weaponized.

“…Okay,” you muttered, forcing yourself to stay calm and conserving oxygen as best you could. Your eyes scanned the gallery exits, fallen chandeliers, and the storm of wildflower petals drifting through the hall. “Time to save their asses… again.”

The bell roared, the metallic blast split the air so violently the stained-glass windows trembled, and with that resonance, more petals erupted into the burning air.

At first it looked almost beautiful, orange petals floating down toward the flames, dozens, then hundreds. A storm of glowing flowers falling from the bell tower like drifting embers.

One brushed the sleeve of a fleeing mage, the flower ignited bright red on contact, its petals burned from within. Smoke rose as the student’s spell collapsed instantly, magic ripped out of the air like someone unplugging reality itself.

“My magic—! It’s gone!”

Another flower fell, another flare, another failed spell. Understanding spread faster than the fire.

“They’re draining it—!” “Don’t let them touch you!”

More petals rained down, brushing cloaks, masks, bare hands, triggering bursts of flame wherever they landed, leaving scorched fabric and a dead silence where magic should have answered.

The grand hall—seconds ago filled with the most skilled magical students from several academies—was now packed with people who couldn’t conjure a single spark.

Grim twisted in your arms. “PREFECT THIS IS BAD—REALLY BAD—”

You saw one flower drifting toward you and flattened yourself against the wall. The corridor behind you was already engulfed in flames, the staircase was starting to burn. You couldn’t stop the petal gliding over the gallery railing straight toward your sleeve.

It touched the fabric…Nothing happened. No flame, no burn, no magic drain. Because there was nothing to drain, the petal simply slid off your sleeve and landed harmlessly on the floor.

You lifted your arm, no damage. You squeezed Grim tighter against your chest and turned toward the stairs.

“It only drains magic!” you shouted over the roar of the fire.

“That means—”

“That means,” you snapped, voice sharp with the absolutely terrible decision you were about to make, “while everyone else is getting drained—”

You took the stairs two at a time, dodging small flames licking across the marble. “—someone without magic is the most useful person in the entire building!”

Grim’s eyes went wide, he realized it instantly. The only one who could move freely through this chaos…was you.

Without thinking twice you leapt the final stretch of stairs, landing inelegantly on the main floor. Before the flames could reach the hem of your dress you yanked the fabric aside and bolted across the hall.

“Hot! Hot! Hot!” Yes, talking while running through a smoke-filled hall was stupid, but it was the only way to vent the stress as you sprinted through the wide arches.

And at the center of the inferno...the seven dorm leaders stood in formation, imposing order on chaos the only way they knew how; loudly, stubbornly.

“Clear evacuation routes!” shouted Riddle. “We need civilians out—now!”

Idia was shouting too, panic turning his brain into a rapid-fire analysis machine. “The flowers are linked to the bell! It’s a distributed power source!”

Kalim and Azul were already dousing nearby flames with water magic. Even Malleus, with his power weakened, had air swirling around him like a contained cyclone, deflecting falling petals.

All seven were staring upward toward the tower. Where the bell still rang, where more flowers kept falling, and where one man stood watching the chaos below with chilling superiority.

Rollo.

“This world has suffered too long under the rule of magic!” he shouted, completely unhinged. His staff swung wildly, sending waves of burning flowers across the hall. “Power brings only arrogance! Destruction! Chaos!”

Another bell strike, more petals, the last scraps of magic began to fail.

“I will end this suffering!” His voice cracked into something almost like a sob. “Even if the flames must purify this city!”

Grim buried his face deeper in the cloak against your shoulder. “…yeah okay… he’s lost it”

The leaders moved before you could blink. All seven redirected the remaining magic they could muster, pushing the falling flowers away in bursts of wind—though the currents also fed the fire.

“Watch the flames!” shouted Vil, already extinguishing a decorative banner that had caught fire.

Leona had launched himself toward a pillar, dodging both the flames and the falling flowers with the kind of speed he only used during Magift. With King’s Roar, he turned every piece of furniture already on fire into sand.

Tiny grains scattered through the air as more flowers fell from the bell tower, only to dissolve the moment they touched the drifting sand.

“NO!” shouted Rollo, staggering slightly. “Magic must disappear! Even if I must burn this city to its foundation, I will finish what I started!”

The flames burst upward again, bathing the entire reading hall in violent orange and red light, smoke was already swallowing the last breathable air.

You ducked as a piece of the structure collapsed, crushing a bench beneath it, splinters of wood scattered everywhere.

“Henchman!” Grim coughed. “This is the part where the villain stops being organized and becomes erratically dangerous!”

“…good call, Grim.” He was right. After dealing with multiple overblots, both of you knew the pattern by heart.

And if there was something else you’d learned after months inside a school full of wildly irresponsible magic users, and a few outright fanatics, it was this: You don’t argue with them.

Especially not a fanatic who’s currently burning down a city.

You placed Grim beneath the archway entrance of the hall, hiding him from the flames under a stretch of marble structure, the doors were already open where civilians had escaped.

Then you ran straight toward the fire, toward the seven idiots fighting inside it. Or maybe you were the idiot for charging into an inferno wearing a highly flammable dress with zero magic.

But hey—adrenaline does wonderful things to a person’s judgment.

“WAIT—!” you heard Grim squeak over the crackling fire.

You didn’t look back, your eyes were locked on the chaos ahead. You didn’t think rationally either—because sometimes the optimal solution…is interrupting a villain’s speech with physical violence.

You ran, and ran and ran. You rushed past Riddle, who only caught a glimpse of a swirl of black and red fabric from the corner of his eye, unable to see clearly through the heat distortions.

But when you planted your foot, twisted your body, and raised your arm—every dorm leader became very aware of your presence in the flames.

Crack.

Your fist slammed directly into Rollo’s face. A solid human punch, powered by frustration and adrenaline. His head snapped sideways, the speech he was about to shout died halfway up his throat.

He staggered back a step, hand flying to his cheek, his eyes went wide, pure disbelief flooding his expression. No one in his perfectly ordered life had ever punched him.

The fire flickered, then slowly began to die down. The hall inhaled again, tThe room seemed to exhale with it.

You lowered your hand slowly, breathing hard, then bent forward as the pain finally hit your knuckles.

“…ow”

The pain shot up your arm, you shook your hand violently, hopping slightly on your feet.

“Shit,” you muttered, clutching your hand for a moment before shaking it again. “That hurts...oh hell that hurts”

You looked at Rollo, voice rough from the smoke. “Could you maybe not burn down a city over your personal issues for five minutes?!”

You bent forward again. “Damn! Your bones are hard!”

Behind you—

“SHE JUST DEFEATED THE FINAL BOSS WITH A HOOK PUNCH!” shouted Idia, unable to contain what he had just witnessed.

“…okay,” you groaned through clenched teeth. “That was one of the worst decisions of my life” Under the glove, your knuckles were already swelling.

“Don’t move” The voice of Vil arrived calm, sharp, perfectly controlled now that the end-of-the-world situation had paused.

He gently took your wrist and carefully removed your glove. The skin around your knuckles was red and throbbing, you could barely move your fingers without a stab of pain running all the way to your shoulder.

“That impact could have fractured something,” he said, lifting your hand and examining it. He turned it carefully in different directions, moving your fingers slightly, visibly irritated. “Honestly. Barbaric… effective, but barbaric”

Azul stepped beside him, his tone smooth but edged with concern. “Allow us to help. We can perform basic healing spells”

Riddle was already clearing space nearby, dragging charred furniture aside. “Give the young lady air!”

Kalim rushed over as well, dodging debris and wilted flowers. “Are you okay? Does it hurt a lot?” he asked, leaning in beside Vil to inspect the damage.

You tried to pull your hand away. “I’m fine—”

Vil didn’t allow it, tightening his hold slightly, though not painfully. “Do not argue while you are injured”

“…okay”

Azul placed his fingers lightly against your knuckles. A faint spell flickered between them, much weaker than his magic normally shone. A soft blue glow wrapped around your hand, cold, like pressing an ice pack against the injury.

The swelling eased slightly, the pain dulling from a sharp stab to a manageable ache.

“This is only temporary relief,” Azul said, withdrawing his hand. Vil released your wrist as well. “You will require proper treatment later”

You flexed your fingers carefully, the muscles moved without too much resistance.

“…thanks” You slowly pulled the glove back on. The soft fabric brushed the injury and you winced faintly.

Leona had been watching the entire time with narrowed eyes, arms crossed. “Do you usually run into burning buildings?”

His tone was flat, not mocking, nor scolding, just… curious. You tilted your head, thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. “Seemed like the fastest way to stop him.”

“Speed is not always the most efficient method,” remarked Malleus as he stepped closer, checking if you’d been injured anywhere besides your hand. “Do you require further assistance, miss?”

“I’m fine now, really. Thank you” Malleus inclined his head and didn’t press further.

Instead he stepped back and cast a small spell—simple for him even in his weakened state, but still effective. The air cleared instantly, smoke and ash were swept away. At last, the reading hall could breathe again, even with the aftermath of the fight still hanging in the air.

Without the smoke, the damage was impossible to ignore. Several pieces of furniture had been reduced to ash, none of the decorative fabrics had escaped the flames, some burned down to their first threads, others halfway through their tapestry. Black scorch marks stained the marble floor, several stained-glass windows were cracked. A few more seconds and the glass would have exploded.

“…I…” Behind you, a trembling voice finally broke free from its daze.

Rollo was still standing exactly where the punch had left him, his hand pressed to his cheek, shoulders rising and falling with uneven breaths. His voice was faint—barely more than a whisper. The fury that had filled it minutes ago had collapsed entirely.

“…I only wanted…” His voice cracked. “…to stop everything tied to magic… to remove the world’s pain”

His gaze drifted across the ruined hall, the ashes, the chaos his plan had unleashed. “This… is…”

His knee buckled and he nearly collapsed to the floor if you hadn’t moved quickly and caught his arm. The others stiffened immediately, stepping forward, ready to protect you from the suddenly fragile fanatic. You raised your hand to stop them.

Then you guided him toward the small central step and let him sit. Silence stretched as you allowed him time to breathe normally again.

On the floor beside you lay a violet handkerchief, scattered with ash. You picked it up, shook off as much dirt as possible, and held it out to him. Rollo stared at your hand, then at your eyes, then at the hand again.

His jaw tightened as he swallowed before finally taking the cloth and pressing it against his cheek, which was already darkening into a bruise.

His shoulders slumped. “…I have failed,” he whispered. “My obsession endangered thousands of citizens… and my students”

He took a shaky breath and bowed his head where he sat. “…I offer my most sincere apologies.”

The apology wasn’t just meant for you, or the seven standing behind you. It was for every guest, for his city, for his school, for the entire world he had nearly burned to the ground.

“The evening is ruined,” he said before trying to stand, you helped him again, slipping your arm under his. “The ceremony cannot continue under these conditions.”

He looked genuinely distressed, unable to meet anyone’s eyes. You kept your grip steady and glanced toward the entrance. Grim was still waiting there, sitting quietly—but clearly trying not to vibrate from the tension. The doorway itself was intact, and the area around it too.

Yes, the hall was wrecked…but wasn’t magic also meant to help, not just destroy?

Also… where the hell was Crowley when someone actually needed him? Of course. Useless bird.

“…is it?” you said, breaking the thick tension.

Rollo turned toward you, startled, and you gave him a small, almost amused look and shrugged again.

“The structure is still standing, fortunately” Your gaze swept the damaged hall. “And the guests are safe”

It seemed Malleus shared your thinking, he stepped forward. “A ceremony is not defined by perfection,” he said, extending his arms slightly toward the hall. “But by those who gather within it… and choose to remain”

Rollo blinked, slightly disoriented. Malleus stepped closer, now standing in front of both of you.

“If the host permits,” he continued, his eyes sincere and calm, “Night Raven College would be willing to offer a performance in place of the interrupted program”

Kalim’s eyes lit up instantly as he joined the circle. “Oh! We can do that!”

From further back, Idia fiddled nervously with the sleeves of his very extravagant suit. “…are we activating emergency concert mode…?” His face looked like someone ready to teleport back to his room and lock the door for the next week.

Azul removed his hat and tapped it against his leg, knocking loose a few ash particles clinging to its ocean-themed decorations. “A collaborative performance would calm the guests and stabilize the atmosphere”

Leona let out a loud grunt. “You guys are annoying”

Clearly uncomfortable with the resolution, he turned and walked down the hall, but not toward the exit. Instead he kicked a fairly intact bench and dropped onto it.

“…you’re not going to help, are you?” snapped Vil, arms crossed.

“I’m not singing if that’s what you’re asking, pretty boy” Leona leaned back, arms behind his head, eyes closing as if savoring what little peace remained before chaos resumed.

You snorted softly and turned your head away, covering your mouth to hide a smile.

“This night does not have to end in ashes,” Malleus said again. “Not if you decide otherwise.”

Rollo studied Malleus carefully, perhaps searching for resentment, disgust, or superiority. But Malleus didn’t look at people like that; you knew that. But that was something only you understood… and something you’d keep very quiet.

No, Rollo found none of those things. He inhaled slowly and closed his eyes.

When he exhaled, his composure had returned. “…very well”

He slipped his arm free from yours and stood straight again. “If your school truly wishes to offer such generosity… Noble Bell College will be honored.”

The decision spread through the room like a spark catching dry wood.

Rollo moved toward the doors with renewed purpose, you followed at a slight distance, your good hand lightly touching the knuckles of the injured one through the glove. When you reached the doorway, you crouched and picked Grim up. Rollo was already speaking to the attendants, directing them into motion.

Lanterns were relit, broken furniture beyond repair was carried outside, pieces that could still stand were pushed aside, some attendants used magic to clean the soot-darkened marble. Malleus helped with that as well.

Within minutes the hall had nearly returned to its original state. The musicians who had once prepared the ceremonial music brought out instruments again, students from Noble Bell College hurried to reconstruct something resembling a formal—if now acoustic—evening.

Rollo stood at the center of it all, overseeing the work, ensuring nothing was misplaced, watching the Night Raven College delegation help, issuing calm instructions to his students.

His gaze moved across the entire hall, until it returned to you.

“I wish to offer my most sincere apology,” his voice carrying clearly across the room, the bruise on his cheek was now unmistakable. “I failed my guests… and those who showed the courage I lacked in that moment.”

His bow was so deep he nearly folded in half. You tightened your grip around Grim against your chest as you watched him straighten again.

“You intervened when reason could no longer reach me,” he continued. “And for that… you have my sincere gratitude. And my apology”

How many times had people bowed or inclined themselves before you tonight? Five? Six? Who knew.

It certainly wouldn’t be the last.

“I placed you in danger inside my own academy.” You held his gaze, but this time you didn’t bow. Your neck was already starting to ache from all the earlier ones.

“I’m just glad the city isn’t on fire.”

Rollo simply nodded and looked around again. The students of Noble Bell were nearly finished restoring the hall, and the seven dorm leaders had regrouped in their usual cluster of dramatic personalities.

Their attention was now very clearly fixed on you, you could practically feel their eyes drilling into your back. Behind the thin mask you gave yourself a completely deadpan look. They couldn't possibly be more obvious. You huffed quietly and waited while the last details were set in place, a student lit the final candle on a low chandelier.

“Earlier you mentioned that your family works in the field of musical performance,” Rollo said. You turned your head so quickly your neck nearly cracked.

“And… that you yourself train your voice.”

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Kalim elbow Azul so he would stop talking to Idia and pay attention. Vil's eyes sharpened with sudden artistic interest...That was definitely not a good sign.

Rollo clasped his hands together near his chest, almost pleading. “The choir scheduled for tonight has been… interrupted”

He then extended his hands toward you. “If the young lady who helped save this ceremony would be willing—even a brief performance—” His palms opened upward. “…it might help restore calm among our guests.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop a tiny panicked squeak.

Kalim suddenly jumped forward, stopping far too close to your face. “That sounds fantastic!” He grabbed both your hands enthusiastically. You flinched slightly at the stab of pain in your knuckles. “Oh! Right, sorry!”

He released the injured one immediately, though his excitement didn’t dim in the slightest. “You can sing? You didn’t mention that earlier!”

You tried to respond, anything, but your mouth stayed half-open when Azul stepped closer too, wearing an expression of dangerously genuine curiosity.

“How convenient,” he said smoothly. “It seems the young lady possessed hidden talents” His sincere smile somehow made you even more nervous.

At lightning speed your eyes scanned the seven dorm leaders and Rollo, completely unable to form a single word. Every possible response in your head was immediately replaced by another, or interrupted by something someone in front of you said.

“…this is either the best narrative resolution ever or the beginning of a catastrophic post-credits scene,” Idia whispered to Riddle, he rolled his eyes and ignored the comment.

“Well then…” Vil crossed his arms, visibly expectant. “Can you?”

His smile looked like that of a film director who had just discovered his next muse and was about to shoot the best scene of his career.

“Here we go again,” groaned Leona, pinching the bridge of the nose. “Stop crowding her again” Vil gestured for him to be quiet.

You closed your mouth...Opened it again...Closed it again; then slowly inhaled. Honestly… it had already been a very long day: You had snuck into an international festival without an official invitation; dodged lethal magic-draining flowers; lied to the host of the entire event and punched him in the face in the middle of a burning hall.

At this point…

what was one more bad decision?

“…I can try”

╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌

From one of the tall windows of the hall, you had a perfect view of the performance unfolding below.

Malleus stood right at the center of the marble circle—calm, steady, almost statuesque. When he sang, his voice carried through the entire hall with a strength that everyone could feel. Beside him, Azul and Idia accompanied the song with suspicious precision; you had never seen them rehearse this performance, and you were fairly certain you had never heard this song echoing through the dorm corridors either.

“…wow,” Grim whispered from your arms, barely peeking out to watch. “They’re actually killing it”

“Yeah…” You leaned forward a little more.

The other dorm leaders stood off to one side of the hall watching the performance unfold, and just as he had promised, Leona had absolutely no intention of participating.

You leaned a little farther when you noticed something odd about Idia’s performance in front of the guests. “…Is Idia using a voice device?”

“…that guy really can’t live without technology,” Grim muttered, crossing his arms. His expression flattened when he spotted the small device Idia was clearly using to sing for him.

And even so…The performance was magnificent.

Malleus’s voice sounded so majestic it was both deep and almost angelic, probably one of the many perks of being a high fae and future prince. Idia’s voice—unexpectedly delicate despite being technological—and Azul’s tone blended perfectly together.

You rested your arms on the stone window frame and closed your eyes, finally allowing yourself to enjoy the evening the way you had originally planned. Grim climbed onto the window ledge beside you, adjusting his mask so he could see better. Both of you swayed gently with the rhythm of the music, and a smile slowly spread across your face.

“They’ve got this,” you murmured quietly, tapping a finger against your arm in time with the music. “Bastards… is there anything they can’t do well?”

Grim snickered, covering his mouth with his paw to keep the sound down. “They’re totally showing off.”

You laughed quietly along with him. When you opened your eyes again, you found Grim staring at you. “You’re next.”

Your smile, which had started out sarcastic, shifted into something more mischievous.

You looked back down toward the hall. The voices still flowed together in harmony, moving around the marble circle with a grace that Vil was probably mentally approving from somewhere nearby. The second chorus was about to begin.

“Well…” you straightened up, adjusting the fall of your skirt and the lace miraculously still intact over the red brocade. “I suppose it’s time to close the night with a golden finish”

Grim looked up at you, eyes narrowing skeptically, his little paws stretching toward you to be held again.“You know how to sing?”

You lifted him and settled him onto your shoulder, both of you looked down toward the stage one last time. Your voice obviously wouldn’t sound as perfect as Malleus’s, but at least it would sound human, warm.

Or so you hoped.

You adjusted your mask and stepped toward the staircase, running your hand along the stone edge of the window and grabbing a small black fan.

“…Where did you get that fan?” Grim asked.

You opened it, revealing a simple design of floral embroidery and delicate lace. “It was on one of the benches”

“Hng… you’re adding more drama.”

Right then, Malleus’s voice surged through the entire hall structure as he reached the final note. The sound vibrated through the room, leaving behind a faint but powerful echo.

You paused mid-step and glanced upward as if your eyes could follow the note sliding through the air, then you gave Grim a playful look. “Come on” You turned toward the stairs. “We’ve got to compete with our prince”

The final chord echoed for a few seconds, applause followed, warm and energized, proof that the performance of those three had worked. The night had been saved.

You set Grim down at the top of the stairs, placing him beside a small decorative window at his height so he could watch the next act. When your heel touched the first step, the lighting along the staircase dimmed slightly, casting a softer contrast around your silhouette.

Fan open, one hand resting lightly on the railing, your heart racing a mile a minute. This would either go spectacularly well…

or become the most embarrassing moment of your life.

You glanced once more at Grim for support, he lifted one paw in a tiny thumbs-up; that was apparently the feline version of encouragement.

And so you began your descent, slow steps, measured, careful. Falling now would be catastrophic. No one wanted to watch the mysterious masked woman who had saved the evening tumble down twenty marble steps.

“Masquerade Paper faces on parade Masquerade Hide your face, so the world will never find you…”

The applause died instantly, your voice wasn't loud nor powerful like Malleus’s, it didn’t have Azul’s precision, nor Idia’s delicate tone...But hopefully it was unmistakably human, and familiar. Almost… comforting.

Each step down the marble curved with the melody, the lace of the dress catching the candlelight, the fan tilting slightly, slow movements as if you were stepping into a courtship circle.

Below in the hall, the seven leaders stood still. Malleus, Idia, and Azul had returned to stand with the others and now the entire group once again had their eyes fixed on you.

Both Azul and Riddle tensed in unison, not expecting your voice to emerge so soft. Singing while descending a staircase could be rather complicated if you didn’t have proper vocal control; walking while singing alone could already be tiring and might make your voice tremble.

Kalim, who stood on the opposite side of Riddle, grabbed his sleeve and began shaking it, pointing at you as you continued your descent. His mouth hung open, nearly reaching the floor, forming a small wow while you fanned yourself with each descending step.

“Masquerade Every face a different shade Masquerade Look around, there’s another mask behind you”

You continued downward, slow but steady, each step landing precisely with the tempo of the lyrics. Now the fan moved a little faster.

Vil followed your figure with every step, every movement of your dress flowing smoothly over the stairs; your posture perfectly straight, your weight settling properly onto each foot as it should, the heels striking neatly in time with the tempo. He watched how you moved the fan, as if it were a supporting actor that required very little to be perfect.

Idia stood behind Vil, slightly hunched with his mask poorly positioned; it looked like he had removed it for a moment after the performance, or rather, like he had deflated after carrying out such an intense social activity in front of so many people. His head barely leaned past Vil’s shoulder as he watched how you didn’t need much to sound… simple, soothing.

The last curve of the staircase opened beneath your feet. The light framed you warmer there, spilling gold across the newly polished floor. You extended the hand holding the fan slightly to the side as the verse neared its end, and when your foot touched the final step…the music swelled, the violins accompanying the delicate chimes while a few percussion instruments followed.

“Flash of mauve, Splash of puce, Fool and king, Ghoul and goose, Green and black, Queen and priest, Trace of rouge, Face of beast”

You advanced farther into the open hall, guests stepped aside to give you room, as if the song itself were clearing a path for you. The warmth of your voice filled the space the fear had left behind earlier, moving through the hall softer than magic, steadier than the ceremony.

Leona had remained leaning against a pillar, watching without making any visible movement or comment toward the others. His arms rested at his sides, palms against the pillar, his gaze moving up and down your figure as he watched you walk through the crowd. But he wasn’t looking at you the way Vil was.

No. He observed you as if trying to solve a puzzle that had been gnawing at him since the afternoon in the plaza. The mysterious masked girl who had stumbled into the group and carried herself with a natural ease almost humiliating for the seven of them clearly had an ace up her sleeve… an ace that felt strangely familiar, though he couldn’t remember from where.

And Malleus…was doing exactly the same. Watching you; but with a softer gaze, as though he were seeing a nymph within her own spring and he were merely a mortal fortunate enough to stumble upon her, fate too generous to allow him to witness such a spectacle.

Then…more voices joined, almost by accident. A voice close to you murmured quietly, then a couple near the edge of the circle, just above the violins, then another pair, cautious but slightly more confident.

All of those voices testing whether they were allowed to join—as though they were forming a chorus to accompany your performance. And you allowed it.

A performance so human was always better when accompanied, wasn’t it?

“Faces Take your turn, take a ride On the merry-go-round In an inhuman race…”

A pair of masked dancers stepped onto the open floor, slowly and cautiously at first; no choreography, only instinct, their movements catching the rhythm just as the candlelight caught the stained glass.

More joined. It wasn’t a full dance yet—just a movement here, another there. And gradually, what had begun with only your voice started turning into a complete spectacle.

You moved the fan in flowing motions upward with the rhythm of the lyrics—the dramatic courtship play Grim had mentioned.

“Eye of gold, Thigh of blue, True is false, Who is who? Curl of lip, Swirl of gown, Ace of hearts, Face of clown”

The chorus of guests was unmistakable now, harmonizing with yours—not raising their voices to compete with you, but filling the space so the performance reverberated just as powerfully as Malleus’s voice alone had earlier.

Dozens of voices intertwined softly beneath yours; it was like watching the masquerade itself sing to close the night. Silk skirts began to spin, cloaks gliding across the floor, candlelight casting soft shadows over every figure and across the marble.

“Faces Drink it in, drink it up Till you’ve drowned in the light, in the sound But who can name the face?”

You turned your head toward a woman dressed exquisitely, wearing an immaculate violet gown, a mask almost identical to yours covered her eyes, she also carried a fan matching her dress.

With a movement that seemed rehearsed, the two of you raised your fans in front of your faces at the same moment. Everyone nearby who held a fan did exactly the same.

And for the third time that evening—after an inconvenient encounter, after an infernal chaos—the event finally felt like a masquerade again.

Right there, at the center of everything, this time a center you had actually sought, you found yourself surrounded by a ballroom that had willingly become part of your song.

“Masquerade! Grinning yellows, spinning reds Masquerade! Take your fill, let the spectacle astound you!”

The dance burst to life.

No longer were there hesitant couples barely swaying, now they spun with confidence to the sound of the violins, gowns and suits tracing wide arcs across the marble floor. You moved among the turns like a master of ceremonies, your skirt’s movement blending with the others, spinning not to dance but to carry your voice to every corner of the hall.

Kalim’s eyes widened as he watched the sea of fabrics spinning and spinning—it was dizzying just to see so much coordination. “Oh! People are really joining in!”

Azul watched keenly. “Fascinating… she’s stabilizing the entire room”

A few steps away, a Noble Bell student, tall, immaculate, his uniform pristine and untouched by ash, walked directly toward you.

Closer, closer still, until he stood only a single step away, moving in rhythm with the crowd, following your steps before bowing and extending his hand.

A formal invitation, a very legitimate one, the kind of official invitation you had hoped for ever since the festival had been announced. All afternoon you had hesitated about where to walk, hesitated about what to say so you wouldn’t be discovered. Now…

you simply wanted to dance, and you accepted the invitation without stopping your singing.

You snapped the fan closed softly against your hip while allowing him to guide you into the swirling mass of couples turning across the floor. Some dancers even lifted their partners into the air, far too bold a movement for you, so you wisely didn’t attempt it.

Your dance was coordinated and fairly simple compared to the others, whose steps already carried the etiquette of ballroom tradition, yours remained softer, movements that allowed the dress to breathe and form dark circles trimmed with red, and enough stillness that your voice could continue floating above the chorus.

The student spun you once just as the orchestra swelled, your dress opened in a dark flare that caught the golden light like a glowing ember refusing to fade.

Across the floor, the seven dorm leaders watched as the performance had truly become that— a performance.

Dance, music, lead voice, chorus. Had you really not planned this from the start?

Vil murmured more to himself than the others, captivated by the way your dress followed every turn. “Control, breath rhythm, audience integration.” He adjusted both sleeves before adding his final verdict. “She has stage instinct”

He walked straight into the crowd and invited the first person he saw waiting near the edge of the dance floor. The others stared in silence for a few seconds before Kalim burst into laughter and strode toward the center as well, inviting a Noble Bell student to dance.

The hall had fully surrendered now, no more uncertain steps or scattered movements—only a sea of silk and velvet, feathered hats swaying in the air, lace glimmering beneath the softened lights.

Couples changed hands in coordinated turns, everyone pulsed with the rhythm of the music.

“You can fool Any friend who ever knew you”

The student guiding you spun you once more, then another step, then he released your hand with elegant timing within the flow of the dance, allowing another guest to take it. Then another, and another; You remained on the dance floor as if you had been born to dance until sunrise.

The orchestra never truly stopped after that.

One song melted into the next, the tempo rising and softening in waves while the lantern light grew warmer, as though the night itself had finally remembered what it was meant to be.

And you danced, and danced, and danced. Occasionally glancing upward toward the window where Grim watched from his hiding place, until he grew bored and hurried down the stairs toward a small table where snacks and drinks had been arranged.

And Grim, being Grim, went straight for the snacks. You shook your head, amused, unable to suppress the smile at the irony of it all: Grim worrying only about food, completely forgetting the stealth part…while you danced with strangers.

At first.

Because in the middle of another turn, Kalim arrived. He practically bounced his way over, bowing with an enthusiastic sincerity that somehow remained perfectly polite.

“May I?” he asked, already smiling as though the answer could only be yes.

His dancing was open, slightly less precise than the formal protocol demanded, but relaxed enough that the turns felt light and smooth rather than rigid and ceremonial.

If the music hadn’t dictated the style, Kalim probably would have dragged you into a dozen far more energetic moves across the entire floor.

“Best night ever,” he laughed softly as you spun together. His laughter was so contagious it made you laugh too—though you kept it much more controlled this time.

“I’m really glad you stayed” He spun you again in a partner exchange.

Next came Riddle. He stepped forward with impeccable posture, offering his hand with textbook ceremonial formality. “I would like to request this dance,” he said, composed, but unmistakably sincere.

His steps were perfect, structured, exactly as ballroom manuals likely instructed for someone leading a partner. Not stiff, simply precise—as if every movement had been practiced until he could guide another person with absolute confidence.

“You handle chaos surprisingly well,” he admitted quietly during a turn.

Ah…if only you knew

Then came Azul. He bowed with a touch of theatrical flair, though still formal, like a merchant about to greet a valuable soul. “It would be a tragedy not to experience a dance with you”

He guided you effortlessly, every step deliberate, every movement calculated so that you appeared exquisite, as though you were a rare piece in an impossibly expensive collection. And he remained in the background…letting you shine.

Vil arrived afterward as if the night itself had set a timer so he would appear at the exact right moment, balancing the aesthetic of the three who had gone before him.

His hand was firm, confident; the dance elegant without effort, posture impeccable, movement fluid—the kind of partner who doesn’t just dance but shapes the entire image of the ballroom around him.

“You understand presentation,” he murmured near your ear. “Presence. That’s rare to find” He released your hand for an open step, ending with you spinning on yourself and landing briefly in the blond’s arms before he let you go again.

You were surprised when Idia came next. His expression showed he was fighting every ounce of his anxiety and preparing himself like someone about to face a hidden final boss.

“…okay.” He took your hand in his, visibly trembling and a little hesitant. “Statistically speaking I’m going to regret this—or die—if I don’t at least try once…”

His steps were clumsy, but not enough for you to step on his feet, nor for him to step on yours. Idia had more secrets tucked up his sleeves than he liked to show the world.

One step, then another, and then, surprisingly, he became careful, mentally counting the next movements so you could continue looking radiant in your dress. “It’s easy… being next to you,” he admitted quietly, placing a hand on your waist. “That… that’s not common for me.”

Leona came next. He didn’t arrive in a spin, handing you off to the next dancer. No; he simply appeared when the music slowed slightly, one brow raised and the corner of his mouth faintly lifted, refusing you the honor of seeing a full smile.

His hand extended with the same casual inevitability he had shown in the plaza. “Come on. You already survived the worst of it”

His grip was firm, steady, strong enough that dancing with him felt like walking beside someone who had temporarily decided not to bite anyone.

Like with Idia, you were surprised by how careful Leona could be while dancing. Of course, as a prince he had been forced to learn etiquette and ballroom lessons. And now you were witnessing the results of that irritating education.

Very good results, to be honest.

Because when the choreography called for the lead to lift his partner again, Leona didn’t hesitate, nor did he give you a warning, he lifted you by the waist. You let out a small yelp before touching the floor again, Leona steadied you against him so you wouldn’t stumble during the next steps.

“You don’t show panic,” he said quietly, leaning closer to whisper near your ear. “Didn’t expect to find someone like that at an event this pompous.”

And finally...Malleus.

He appeared without hurry, not interrupting the moment you had with Leona until the partners changed naturally. He stepped forward as the music reached the last measures of the slow dance, transitioning toward something deeper and more intimate, an instant carved into midnight itself as the first rhythm came to a close.

“May I share this dance?” he asked softly, bowing slightly before taking your hand and guiding you through the final movements of that first rhythm with the other dancers.

His hand was warm around yours, his steps slow, deliberate, impossibly gentle for someone so tall and imposing, as if the music being played had been written specifically for the two of you.

“You brought light back to this hall tonight,” he said quietly so only you could hear him, ignoring everyone else around you. “Whether you intended to or not”

Laughter floated through the air as the first rhythm of the night ended. Seven dances, with seven boys, all stepping away from you carrying the same strange feeling, that they had just spent time with someone important… and somehow familiar.

And you allowed yourself to keep smiling and dancing. For once, you allowed yourself to have the night Crowley had stolen from you.

One dance became two; two became five.

At some point the evening stopped feeling like something you had infiltrated and barely survived, and became something you were simply living. Living far from the cold walls of Ramshackle, far from the magic-soaked stone of NRC.

In the distance, the spell of the moment broke with a bell chime, small and practical. A bell announcing that it was already very late.

Your eyes shot toward the tall clock mounted against the marble wall. “…oh no.”

You had approached the snack table, where Grim had apparently devoured everything edible and was now curled up beside it waiting for you.

When he heard you mutter, he lifted his head. “Mm?”

“We’re out of time,” you said, looking at him in horror.

“HMNYA?!” he jumped up.

“If we don’t leave now,” you whispered in his ear, avoiding attracting attention, the earlier squeak had already made several guests glance toward the table, “we won’t get back to campus before they do”

You scanned the crowd, searching for an escape route. “And if Crowley gets there first—”

Grim gasped and jumped into your arms. “We’re dead”

“Exactly”

The music swelled again and several people stepped back into the center of the hall for another round, perfect cover. You adjusted Grim in your arms and reopened the fan, hiding him slightly as you began walking quickly.

“Okay, we walk fast,” you said quietly while heading toward the reading hall doors. “No running. We blend in with the people leaving and slip out before anyone notices.”

You pushed your way step by step through the living sea of masks, guests, and students, gliding between couples mid-turn, passing laughing students.

Every movement controlled to avoid suspicion, but urgent.

You were only a few steps away, close enough to feel the cool night air slipping through the carved gap in the wooden door, close enough that one more step would take you out of the lantern light, the music, the masquerade entirely.

And you pushed the enormous door open, stepping straight into the outer corridor.

╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌

“This was probably the most fun disaster I’ve ever attended.” Kalim had his hands behind his head, still smiling as if the night hadn’t stopped being magical.

The dorm leaders had gathered near one of the marble pillars. The music from the hall drifted faintly just a few meters away.

Riddle adjusted his gloves, nodded, and placed his hands behind his back. “The structural damage was severe, but the response was… effective.”

Azul had picked up a glass from the table, apparently unaware that Grim had already raided the food there. He swirled it in his hand, watching the liquid spiral slightly.

“Indeed” He took a small sip and looked toward the hall doors. “Although there is still one clause unresolved”

Vil had followed him and taken a glass of wine, sipping occasionally. He hadn’t even finished half of it. “The mysterious lady”

Idia nodded, by now he had removed his mask. “Mysterious young woman, SSR-tier character who punches the main villain with maxed-out stats.”

Kalim, who had only half been listening, glanced around—the others, the muffled music beyond the door, the outer corridor—his gaze bounced everywhere for a moment, then he suddenly straightened, exhaling through his nose.

“She said her brother studies at NRC.” That made the others turn toward him.

Vil lifted the glass to his lips thoughtfully, his eyes sharp though his mind clearly elsewhere. “Yes… that detail is useful”

“The NRC enrollment is not infinite,” Riddle said with a slight frown. “Establishing familial connections may take time” He sighed. “But it will not be impossible”

Vil set the glass carefully on a stone bench. “A voice like that won’t remain hidden for long.”

“Yes,” Malleus added calmly, his eyes drifting toward the hall. “Fate rarely introduces someone only once” Vil crossed his arms at that remark, giving a small nod before following the direction of Malleus’s gaze.

Leona had remained leaning against the column beside Kalim the entire time, hands in his pockets, head tilted toward the hall doors—still listening to the distant music and the crowd dancing, laughing, talking.

“Maybe we’ll see her again before the night ends—” Kalim started.

But Leona’s ears sharpened, his eyes narrowed toward the distance.

“…Oi” That was all he said to make the others pay attention.

On the other side of the outer corridor, the great doors of the hall opened—and there you were, moving quickly. The black and crimson dress was unmistakable even under the dim light of the corridor, the small creature tucked in your arms as you hurried toward the outer doors.

That alone was enough for the seven of them to straighten in unison, watching your figure cross the corridor. Kalim pointed at you and barely raised his voice to say, “There she goes!”

Vil stepped forward immediately, then another step, Azul set his own glass beside Vil’s, adjusted his suit, and followed him. The seven of them began to move closer, like a flock of crows closing in on a small prey, or rather… their little dove.

They were close enough to see you, but not close enough for you to notice them. Your figure passed beside a guest whose decorations stuck out everywhere, especially along the sleeves and shoulders.

And then the most cliché, ridiculous thing that could possibly happen at an event like this happened.

A strand of your hair snagged as you rushed past, and the ribbon of your mask caught on the guest’s decorations.

“Ah—sorry!” the guest said, quickly freeing your hair and the ribbon when your head jerked backward. The tug made you drop Grim, and he jumped to the floor.

“It’s nothing,” you replied, continuing forward once your hair came loose. The guest went his way while you headed straight for the outer doors.

The ribbon slipped free, the mask fell one step later. You instinctively turned, bringing a hand to the back of your head, startled as the fabric mask dropped to the ground.

One second, one undeniable second was all it took for your face to be completely revealed under the moonlight. The mystery shattered, and before the seven leaders of NRC, the young lady was revealed:

The Prefect of Ramshackle.

Meanwhile you were far too busy picking up the fallen mask, your heart pounding like you had just run a marathon when the realization hit you all at once.

“…oh shit—” You snatched the mask off the floor and bolted toward the door.

“GRIM!” you shouted, your voice now unmistakably clear in the night air and the quiet city. “MOVE OR YOU’RE SLEEPING ON THE FLOOR WITHOUT TUNA FOR A WEEK IF WE’RE LATE!”

The small hooded creature shrieked in terror. “YES, PREFECT—!”

The two of you ran like a princess racing back to her tower before the spell wore off...except you looked more like two idiots sprinting full speed toward the city lights as if your lives, and possibly your financial privileges, depended on it. Within seconds the darkness swallowed you both, disappearing down the outer corridor toward the main gates.

Silence followed, and the ones who had been pursuing you with steady steps… were left stunned by the revelation.

Kalim’s jaw dropped, not caring how dramatic or over-the-top he looked; Riddle’s eyes widened and a faint blush colored his cheeks; Azul removed his glasses to clean them with trembling hands, an entirely pointless gesture, as he pinched the bridge of his nose; Idia made a strangled sound, like his system had just crashed into a blue screen he couldn’t reboot; Leona and Vil blinked at the same time, shooting each other a sidelong glance; Malleus simply watched as the final piece of the puzzle clicked neatly into place, confirming that lingering sense of familiarity.

A pause followed...A long pause, far too long.

Vil didn’t know what to do with his hands, or with his entire existence. He pressed his lips into a thin line, moved his hands aimlessly for a moment, and was just about to turn away in frustration. “…oh for fuck’s sake.” The fact that he had sworn meant you had played your move perfectly.

Idia crouched down and buried his face in his hands. “I want to die”

Azul, still pinching the bridge of his nose, let out a long breath. “We should have known”

And honestly, yes.

They had been idiots not to realize; inside their minds the gears finally started turning: The voice, her composure in danger, that laugh, the ridiculous courage, the familiar, the way she handled chaos without magic.

Leona dragged a hand down his face and let out a deep, irritated growl. “She masked her scent so we wouldn’t notice”

Kalim, whose mouth had still been hanging open, suddenly burst into a small laugh as he looked toward where you had disappeared. “Oh! That makes so much sense!” He laughed freely.

“No wonder we could flirt with her so naturally”

“FLIRT?!”

“NOBODY HERE FLIRTED WITH ANYONE!”

“MY CHARISMA STAT IS NOT THAT HIGH!”

Several voices erupted at once, some embarrassed, some shy, some in complete denial. Malleus, still perfectly composed in the middle of the chaos, simply closed his eyes and allowed his companions to argue, offering the night a small smile.

Leona didn’t even stay to watch the end of the debate over who had flirted more. He simply closed his eyes, shoved his hands into his pockets, and walked back toward the hall, he shouting was already giving him a headache.

Then, on one day someone a long time ago deemed special, everyone gathers together, presents bursting from under the brightly decorated tree. Small trinkets would fill the giant stockings, laughter would fill empty air, jolly music made just for the holiday would play, the smell of cookies and hot cocoa would create the perfect ambiance. Whether you loved the holiday, or even really celebrated it or not, one thing was clear. You were feeling incredibly homesick, and the lack of Christmas, one of the holiday’s that was meant to bring the community together and get you through the cold, dreary days of winter was really taking a toll on you.

As you stared out the cloudy windows of Ramshackle, a small flurry of snow starting to fall from the sky, you came to a conclusion. You were going to celebrate Christmas one way or another, and you would try your hardest to collect everything needed to celebrate something that would bring you a much needed familiarity. 

At first your friends were confused. A sudden determination had consumed you, one that had come out of seemingly nowhere. You found yourself at Sam’s shop more often than not, ordering what you could within your limited funds and even making special requests. While you couldn’t order a pine tree (they didn’t really cut those down to show off in people’s homes here), you made due with what you could decorate. You bought red fabric and did your best to cut out the stocking shape and sew it together. Then with white fluffy fabric, you cut a line to then glue/sew around the opening. You proudly hung them above your fireplace. Already with such a simple thing, you found your mood lightening instantly. 

While Ace, Deuce and Grim questioned your actions, you continued on without even bothering to explain. They will have all their answers in due time. Instead you bought tinsel, stuff people hung for parties, but got green and red tinsel specifically. You hung it along the mantle of the fireplace, along the walls, the doorframes, the ghosts helping you merrily all the while. You then bought fairy lights, the closest thing you could find in relation to Christmas lights, and hung it along the walls. Your chest warmed at how small strings of lights dangled from the main line, twinkling along your beige walls like little stars (it almost looked like snow falling, but that might be you going insane). 

You’re not sure how Malleus didn’t freeze at night, still coming by every so often. He looked on in wonder at how you managed to breathe life into such a desolate place. Perhaps it was his curious nature, or how he was always willing to listen to you with no judgement, but he was the first one you explained yourself to. The wonders people in your world would create with lights and decorations and warmth. How you wished to replicate that, even if you could only do a fraction of what was possible in your world. Christmas seemed to resonate with Malleus strongly, the idea of people meeting together and sharing their love and merriment. Seeing the joy and longing that filled your eyes as you described your beloved holiday, Malleus took it upon himself to help in any way he could.

One night, Ramshackle may have shined brilliantly inside, but outside it still was its ever dull grey, then the next it shone proudly like a gem. Brilliant whites, reds, blues and greens wrapped around the roof, chimney, gutters, and trees that surrounded the dorm. Strange deer-like creatures made from wire that glittered with lights filled the yard (it was strange, as it almost looked like reindeer, but was distinctly twisted in a way that fit this world as well). Giant candy canes lined the path to the dorm, and when I say giant, I mean they were taller than you! A small layer of snow coated the browning grass, a small flurry of snow falling. In the center stood Malleus, green eyes sparkling as he awaited your reaction. Tears welled in your eyes as you took everything in, you hadn’t expected this. Nowhere near this. 

 You wished to host the party soon, so you decided to start writing the invitations. With pristine white paper and red envelopes, you personally write out an invitation for each and every friend you could think of. You made sure to deliver it in person, as you’ve had many problems already and wished to avoid any more. Each person had their own reaction, some were excited, others weary, yet they all had one thing in common. One look at your barely contained joy had them folding rather quickly. 

More invigorated than ever with such a display, and a party guaranteed to happen (and the many questions you kept gaining from all your curious friends), your next course of action was to ensure you had enough food. From chips to ingredients of desserts, you were going to cover all your bases. Trey ‘just happened’ to stop by when your sleeves were rolled up and a light coat of flour dusted your face, and offered to help. The kitchen was warm as the oven was on, Grim trying to swipe bites of cookie dough as you and Trey tried to shape the cookies by hand (while some cookie cutters applied to the holiday, you struggled to find enough). You also made a variety of cookies, sugar cookies, gingerbread men, cookies topped with a chocolate candy, and so much more. You both laughed at the poor art of the santa that ended up looking more like a blob, sugar and warmth filling the air. It didn’t take long for nearly all your plates to be filled with various treats ready to be consumed, wrapped with cling wrap for the party only a day away. 

You barely got any sleep that night, donning a sweater that was the closest you could get to the holiday spirit. You double and triple checked that you had everything perfect, a little trinket you picked out for each and every person who would be attending. You were bouncing on your heels, watching each second pass by with baited breath. And as people started trickling in, you felt yourself slowly mend. This wasn’t perfect, the tree was missing and there were no holiday themed outfits, but it embodied what Christmas was supposed to be. A gathering of people who care for each other in one way or another, eating sugary foods and having fun. You don’t think you’d ever seen Ramshackle so warm and inviting, all your friends in one place, nearly filling the entire living room and more. 

As you took in everything, the warmth that settled deep in your heart, you missed the person who joined you in the doorway. Their gaze followed yours before lifting up. A small branch of mistletoe hung above you both, little red berries bright against the dark green leaves. 

“What’s that for?” They asked, curiosity clear. This was the most you had shared of your old life, and they would love to learn more about what helped shape you. 

You stood still, suddenly feeling a bit bashful at the implications. It hadn’t even been your intention when one of the ghosts helped hang the small branch, just another decoration you could find that reminded you of home. Yet here you stood, with someone you cherished so…how would they react to such a tradition?

❥ Riddle Rosehearts

When you explained the purpose of hanging mistle toe in your world, Riddle turned a violent red when he realized the implications. His bright, grey-blue eyes widened comically and mouth agape for a few seconds before he tried to regain his composure.

“I see,” Riddle spoke, hand covering his mouth as he took a deep breath. “I do not wish to disrespect your traditions, but I am…unsure how to proceed.”

You chuckled awkwardly, clinging to your drink like it was your saving grace, “We don’t have to do anything you would be uncomfortable with. It’s just a silly tradition.”

Suddenly, Riddle’s demeanor changed, much back to his serious and stern self. He turned to face you, eyes sharp. With a gloved hand, he tugged on your sweater sleeve, rising up and placing a short yet sweet kiss to your cheek. You blinked rapidly, your heart-rate accelerating as Riddle pulled away. With a glare sharp enough to cut steel, Riddle nearly looked unaffected if it weren’t for his cheeks as bright as a stop light.

“I hope that was sufficient,” Riddle muttered, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. 

“More than,” You replied easily, feeling the edge of your lips threaten to upturn. The night was far from over, but your heart felt complete as you both continued to stand side by side, and if your pinkies linked and the distance between you both dwindled, neither of you mentioned it. But you would be lying if you said this wasn’t one of your favorite Christmas’.

❥ Trey Clover

Trey felt a bit bashful as you explained what the twig of mistletoe meant. He had already gathered that this holiday of yours was one of family, friends, and lovers, showing your care and strengthening bonds into the next year. Though he was a bit surprised that you would incorporate such a…bold tradition. 

“It’s not that serious,” You chuckled awkwardly, trying to wave it off. “I didn’t even think about it when it was hung, just another thing that represents the spirit of Christmas.”

When you finally looked back to Trey you felt your breath halt. He looked at you with a gaze so warm you nearly did a double take.

“I wouldn’t want to break any traditions,” Trey smirked amusedly. “Besides, isn’t there a downfall if it’s not carried out? My only concern is making you uncomfortable.”

You opened and closed your mouth before finally responding, “I…I suppose there is…” You felt sweat bead at your hairline as Trey inched closer to you. “It’s said that you won’t find love the next year.” 

“Now that would be a shame,” Trey mumbled, having inched closer the entire time. Close enough to feel his breath fan your face. “Should we make sure that outcome doesn’t befall you?”

Not trusting your voice, you gave a weak nod. Trey took that as his sign to finally slot his lips against your own. The kiss was neither soft nor harsh, just present. His lips were soft and tasted of the sugar found in the desserts you both worked hard to make, his touch was soft as he caressed your jaw. It was safe to say that you were in fact safe against the tradition of your mistletoe.

❥ Cater Diamond

Cater froze, emerald eyes locked on you as you finished your explanation. He felt his hands tremble as he grasped his phone. His mind was in overdrive. On one hand, this was something he was waiting for, for a long time now…on the other it felt like everything was moving way too fast. You, yourself felt a little sheepish, eyes falling anywhere but the redhead beside you. 

“We don’t…” You trail off, feeling the awkwardness roll off you in waves.

“That’s so cute,” Cater laughed tensely, fumbling with his phone. “We gotta share this holiday cheer!” 

“Seriously,” You try putting your foot down. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to do something you’re not comfortable with. I’m just happy you’re here-” 

You can barely finish your sentence before your entire world spins. One second you're talking, the next your lips are locked together with the cute ginger. A small noise of surprise escapes you, but you quickly melt into the kiss. It’s both soft and intense, like he feels starved, but is too scared to go all the way. You both pull away flustered, his cheeks a bright pink as he tries his best to hide his face behind his phone. 

Though that does little to calm his racing heart, he can’t stop peeking at you, trying to gauge your own reaction. Cater did manage to capture a picture of you both, it’s slightly blurry, you can barely make out his red hair and the surprise in your eyes. It’s a photo he will cherish, one that marks a momentous step in your relationship, and the mark of his first Merry Christmas, and a wondrous New Year.

❥ Deuce Spade

There’s a deathly silence after you finish your explanation…then Deuce explodes. His face burns a bright red as he splutters nonsensical words. He backs up rapidly, nearly bumping into Floyd who looks on in mild interest. His reaction is honestly more embarrassing than the tradition, and you try to catch him before he falls and hits his head.

“Calm down,” You whine, trying to ignore the flutter in your heart as he is rigid in your gentle hold. You unconsciously rub the back of his hand with your thumb as you continue, “It’s just a silly tradition, we don’t have to go through with it.”

“But…this clearly means a lot to you,” Deuce replied, brows furrowed in concern. “You’ve gone through so much to decorate the dorm and make sure everyone here would have fun following traditions from your world…”

“Yeah…” You agree, surprised how observing Deuce can be, but then you shook your head with a gentle smile. “But we don’t have to follow every tradition to a t.”

Placing his hand against his chest, Deuce declared almost too loudly, “I do not mind completing this tradition with you, but only if you consent.” Your mouth dropped open, face burning alive as multiple others turned to look at you, you even noticed Ace somewhere started to record. Pent up energy started to thrum in your veins, and unsure how to get rid of you, you decided to stop the pointless conversation and place a chaste kiss against Deuce’s lips. 

Once again he seemed to malfunction, but the smile he tried to smother shone through all the same…and he’s on the floor passed out.

❥ Ace Trappola

“What a weird tradition,” Ace snarks, but it does little to hide the way he adverts his eyes. He crosses his arms while leaning against the doorframe, doing his best to act nonchalant, all the while he’s eyeing your lips. 

You give him a deadpanned stare, not at all amused by his behavior, “Okay, not like I was saying I follow it.”

That caused Ace to falter slightly, his expression becoming a bit disappointed, “Y-you don’t?”

You merely shrugged, “Nah, I only celebrated this holiday with family so we never really put up mistletoe, but it’s huge with the holiday which is why I put it up this time. Do you think I was planning on kissing someone today?”

“How am I supposed to know?” Ace defended, glaring at you weakly. “It’s not like I celebrate this shitty-”

He cuts himself off as your glare turns harsher, and immediately tries to correct himself, “No, not shitty, I just mean…I don’t know, shut up!” 

“I didn’t even say anything,” You huff, rolling your eyes. 

“You know what,” Ace huffs, pushing himself off the wall. Instead of leaving to find Deuce like you thought, he instead grabbed the front of your sweater and pulled you into a heated kiss. It was messy, not coordinated at all, clearly no plan was put into it. It didn’t last long either as he pulled away, face a bright crimson.

“There,” Ace mutters, not able to meet your eyes. “Now your stupid tradition is complete.”

❥ Leona Kingscholar

The only sign of a reaction you get is an ear twitch and a raised eyebrow. 

“Hm,” Leona hums, leaning against the doorframe opposite you (yet he is so big that there still isn’t much space between you both). “There is a similar custom in Sunset Savannah, and it is said that if you don’t complete the tradition, you will sever ties with that person in the next year.”

“Oh,” You blinked, curious at what tradition his homeland participated in. “That is quite similar, though it’s more vague. From where I’m from, if you don’t go through with it, you won’t find love within the next year.”

Leona merely hums again, closing his eyes like he’s done with the conversation, but you’ve known him enough to know that he was trying to relax in a high energy environment. It goes quiet for a few seconds before he opens one eye, somehow still managing to stare you down like he’s disappointed in your intelligence. 

“Come now, herbivore,” Leona motions lazily with a hand for you to step closer. “I don’t have all day.” It was a lie, he was here for you, and your party was bound to go for a few more hours at least, but you stepped forward anyways, closing that barely-there gap. A smirk wormed its way across his lips before he leaned down and captured your lips within his own. Just as quick as it happens, it’s over, his fangs barely scraping against your lip as he pulls away. He watches smugly as you flounder, “Merry Christmas, herbivore.”

❥ Ruggie Bucchi

As you finish your explanation, Ruggie stares at you like you caught him in a trap, sugar cookie half falling out his mouth. He’s quick to cover his surprise with a startled giggle, covering the lower half of his face with his hand.

“You tryin’ to trap someone into given’ ya a kiss? Shehehe,” Ruggie couldn’t meet your eyes as he spoke, eyes the one hand he had filled with various snacks he managed to get his hands on. “Bet’cha didn’t expect me to ruin your plan.”

A frown tugged on your lips, “You didn’t ruin anything. I didn’t even think twice about that tradition when I originally put it up.”

“Besides,” You shrug, inching closer to the hyena. “I’m glad it was you I got stuck with.” 

Ruggie lets out another nervous laugh, cheeks dusted a light pink, “Really?”

“Mhm,” You nod, taking another step closer, arm brushing against his. “In fact, I’m glad it was you out of everyone else.” 

Ruggie glanced at you in the eye, something dangerous swirling within his own. Your faces inch closer, and closer…you can nearly count every freckle that lands on his cheeks, every eyelash that flutters. You’re not sure who pushes forward (perhaps you both did), and your lips are suddenly on his, the kiss hesitant, like neither of you can believe it’s happening. His lips taste like sugar and chips, which weirdly worked. Ruggie pulls away first, his nervous laughter unable to stop spilling from his lips. His cheeks are alight, and he’s struggling to even look at you.

“Merry Christmas, Ruggie,” You smile, leaning in to kiss his cheek. 

❥ Jack Howl

Jack’s reaction is quite stoic, merely staring at you like some silent samurai who holds too much weight on their shoulders. His posture is impeccable as always, eyes not giving away a hint of the battle he is in inside his mind. You are someone he cares about, someone he cherishes, and he is proud to be a part of a holiday celebration you gave everyone a chance to celebrate, a piece of you and your culture shown brightly for everyone to participate in. Yet the gentlemanly part of him is telling him he can’t kiss you, whether it be lip to lip or even simply to your cheek or back of your hand. 

“To be honest I didn’t even think about that part of hanging mistletoe,” You chuckled, shrugging it off. “I just saw it in a catalogue Sam gave me and jumped on buying it immediately.”

“It means a lot to you,” Jack stated, biceps tensing in what he was about to propose. Taking a deep breath, he pushes himself towards you like a man on a mission. His ear twitches, his eyes harden, it nearly looks like he’s going into battle. Before you can even get a word out, try to reassure he doesn’t need to feel pressured to follow a stupid tradition, he places a chaste kiss on the corner of your lips. It was featherlight, you wondered if you hallucinated the whole thing.

It was clear as day thought, with the way Jack’s tail wagged, his cheeks turning a light pink, and the way he averted his eyes that it had indeed happened. A giddy smile overtook you as you rocked back and forth on your heels. It seems the start to your new year will indeed be merry.

❥ Azul Ashengrotto

A suave smile pasted itself on his lips. His default facade taking over due to the groundbreaking nuke you just unknowingly launched onto him. If you looked hard enough, you could see every muscle tense, like he was one step away from completely shattering apart. Oh how badly he was waiting for a moment such as this, yet now he finds himself frozen in place, watching the moment slowly slip through his fingers. 

Clearing his throat, he finally replies, “How interesting…” His voice cracking does not help his smooth act. You watch on in slight amusement as Azul clears his throat, trying to keep himself together, but his mind continues to run rampant. Did you plan this on purpose? Did the tweels help you? Or perhaps, this was all just a massive stroke of luck and he should really be thanking Ursula right now. 

“Ahem,” He shakes his head lightly to try and clear his thoughts. “It would be my honor to partake in a tradition such as this from your homeland.”

“You sure?” You tease, eyes crinkling with your grin. “I don’t want you to feel pressured into doing something you’d rather not.”

“Yes!” Azul exclaims, before shrinking back, a blush spreading from his neck to the tips of his ear. “I mean…I do not mind in the slightest.”

“Whatever you say,” You reply before stepping forward. Azul fidgets slightly as your face approaches his own…only to land on the corner of his lips. He nearly whined out of frustration, but he held back any embarrassing noises, nearly frying to death from how flustered he felt at the simple gesture of your lips near his own.

“Merry Christmas, Azul,” You chuckle.

❥ Jade Leech

“My, my~” Jade grins, a bit too wide for your liking. “What a bold tradition.”

“Yeah,” You agree sheepishly. “I’ve never really participated, nor have I seen anyone else participate, but it’s a huge staple in Christmas movies.”

“I see,” Jade nods, looking a bit too into the conversation. “I presume you wish to participate in the tradition now?” It was less of a question and more of an accusation.

Jade took a step toward you, causing you to take a cautious step back, only for your back to hit the wall.

“It wasn’t really my plan,” You tried to defend yourself, glancing left and right. No one seemed to notice your dilemma, or cared enough to deal with the Leech twin. 

“That’s hard to believe,” Jade countered, placing a hand on his chest. “You went through all the trouble to not only buy a branch of mistletoe, but to place it in a spot that is impossible to miss. You are quite cunning, prefect.”

“I just thought it added to the holiday cheer,” It was a weak defence against the evidence, but it was the truth. 

“Now, now,” He tsked, hair flowing gently as he shook his head. “We must complete the tradition, we wouldn’t want to face the negative effects if we don’t.”

You thought about protesting, arguing that it was merely superstition that couldn’t be proven. That it wasn’t even a tradition here, so what effects would even occur, but as Jade’s face inched ever so close to your own, you found all rational thought leaving your head. He seemed to understand this, the predatory glint in his eye causing your heart to skip a beat. Closer, and closer, you involuntarily shut your eyes…only for him to swerve and kiss your cheek. 

“Don’t look so glum,” He chuckled merrily. “You didn’t specify what type of kiss.”

❥ Floyd Leech

“Boring,” Was Floyd’s immediate response. “Who cares about kissing under some plant? You can do that anywhere.”

You blinked once, then twice. 

“That's…not the point…” You say with furrowed brows. “It’s supposed to catch the two people off guard, in movies it’s normally two people who are crushing on each other that get unknowingly stuck under it. It’s supposed to be a cute thing that brings out people’s feelings for each other.”

“You said it was to bring luck to someone’s love life,” Floyd countered.

“Yeah,” You rolled your eyes. “Kissing your crush kinda pushes that forward." 

Now it was Floyd’s turn to blink once, then twice at you—only for you to only see grey and yellow eyes staring you down. You felt his breath fan your face as he gave you that intimidating blank look. 

“Ya think you’re funny, shrimpy?” He asked, tone devoid of all emotion. It should scare you, but you’ve dealt with it too many times to be fazed anymore. Perhaps a bit of Floyd’s chaos has rubbed off on you, but you decide to do the unthinkable.

You close the miniscule gap, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before darting off. You nearly run into many of your friends, but they’re used to you and trouble being a pair by now. Meanwhile, Floyd is stunned, a rare emotion from the eel-mer. Then, he lets out a loud cackle, Jack and Epel looking at him concernedly. 

“Oh shrimpy,” Floyd sighs, already searching the crowd for your form. “Do’ya really think you can hide after pulling a stunt like that?”

Perhaps your silly tradition has some merit after all.

❥ Kalim Al-Asim

“Really?” Kalim asked, stars practically shining in his eyes. “That’s so romantic!” “Mhm,” You nodded, chuckling at his enthusiasm. “It’s a big thing in romcom Christmas movies.”

“Wait,” He gasps, tanned cheeks turning a warm pink. “Does that mean…” He becomes so flustered his sentence dissolves into nonsense. 

You tilt your head, amused at his behavior, “Only if you want to. The tradition isn’t super serious or anything, just wanted to add more to the holiday spirit.”

“I want to!” Kalim shouts, drawing attention to himself, but not even caring. He clasps his hands around your own, “I really, really, reeeeeallllyyyyy want to.” You burst out laughing at his enthusiasm, your stomach fluttering at what was soon to come. 

“Hmm, okay,” You agree, smile so big it nearly hurt. Leaning forward, Kalim watched you with bated breath. You placed against his cheek, which he puffed in indignation. Before he could whine or complain, you placed another kiss on the opposite cheek. Then you placed a kiss on his forehead, then his nose, then his chin. You kept it up until he became a giggle puddle beneath you, his face aflame and heart beating rapidly against his ribcage. Finally, once you felt like you’ve done enough damage, you placed the final killer move and pressed a firm kiss to his lips, which seemed to finally break him. 

“Can I get another?” Kalim asks with zero shame, arms wrapped around your neck as he clings to you.

“Hmm…” You pretend to ponder your next answer, causing Kalim to tug you closer to him (if that was even possible). Of course you couldn’t say no to his cute pouting face, so you kissed him again, and again, until neither of you could handle any more (your friends were not happy with the clear pda).

❥ Jamil Viper

“I see…” Jamil trails off, eyes refusing to meet your own. He would be hiding his face with his hood if he wasn’t wearing the red knit sweater you commented on being similar to this holiday you wished to celebrate. 

“It’s nothing big,” You waved the tradition off, a reassuring smile plastered on your face. “I just put it up ‘cus it reminded me of home.”

At that, Jamil’s eyes softened. It was easy to forget that you were not from their world, that you had quite literally set aflame the campus with your presence, and that you may find yourself more homesick than the rest. Sharp grey eyes took in your appearance, you donned an ugly green and red sweater, poorly drawn sleigh and some deer creature taped to the front. A headband with pipettes that wove up into the shape of antlers. It was clear that you wished to go all out in celebrating traditions from your world, and he’d be damned if he were to rain on your parade, even if it was a little.

While Jamil was not one for any displays of affection, he found himself approaching you. You only watched him with wide eyes as he placed a chaste kiss on your cheek. You blinked once, twice, then felt your face burn hot. You didn’t expect that, not at all. Jamil merely looked away once more, trying to act nonchalant even though he felt like he was currently melting into a puddle of goo.

“Merry Christmas, prefect.”

❥ Vil Schoenheit

“How…cliche,” Vil remarks, glancing up at the twig hung above you both. “It seems that no matter where you are from, you’ll have something to try and get two people to kiss.”

“Huh,” You mutter, awkwardly smiling. “When you explain it like that, it is kinda weird.”

“I never said that,” Vil tsk’d, tapping a finger against his crossed arms. “There’s a reason why it’s a common theme among holidays. Finding love, it’s something many wish to chase, that many wish for others to find. It’s beautiful that people across many cultures and worlds all long for connection.”

“You’re starting to sound like Rook,” You tease, only to be met with a sharp glare. 

“I’ll ignore that remark, for now,” Vil straightens his posture, fixing a nonexistent wrinkle in his clothes. “If I didn’t know any better, you purposefully set this up to steal a kiss from me.”

“Now why would I do that?” You asked, a smirk tugging at your lips. “You wouldn’t even know the tradition behind it, it would be stupid to assume I would get a kiss.”

“So you do have a brain,” Vil effortlessly tosses back. “I shouldn’t think less of my sweet potato.”

Your heart flutters at the use of that stupid nickname, not to mention the way he looks at you like you mean something to him. Just like everything he does, Vil approaches your space with a confidence you could only wish for, tilting your head towards him with perfectly manicured nails, and presses a tantalizing kiss to the corner of your lips. Your mouth falls agape and you only stare at the beautiful man in front of you like he bestowed you the best gift of all (he kinda did). In return, Vil can’t help being a little smug that his lip tint left a mark, not that he would tell you.

❥ Rook Hunt

“Oh, how magnifique,” Rook croons, clasping his hands like a maiden that was just told the most romantic tale. “A way to get love to bloom, just like the berries found on the branch. How poetic, how beau.” 

“I suppose,” You chuckle at his enthusiasm. “But in my experience, it was something only really done in movies or books.”

“Non, how devastating,” Rook exclaimed, gently holding your shoulders in his excitement. “You have not even participated in a tradition you hold so close to your heart? We must fix this.”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” You laughed, amused about how invested in this he was. “Besides, the tradition deems whoever steps under the mistletoe together have to kiss, and that would be you.”

“You have a point, mon ami,” Rook pulls away from you slightly, but the fire in his emerald eyes is bright as ever. If you knew any better, you would think he had joined you under the mistletoe on purpose, but it would be impossible for him to know your tradition…wouldn’t it? “We would not want to break tradition now, would we, mon cher?” 

“I suppose not…” You replied, watching the hunter wearily. Of course instead of being normal and placing a kiss to your cheek, he kneeled in front of you, bringing your hand up to his lips and placing a kiss to the back of it. He looked up at you both smug and content, like you had bestowed upon him his greatest wish.

“I hope you have a wonderful Christmas, ma charmante préfète.”

❥ Epel Felmier

“Huh?!” Epel exclaimed when you mentioned kissing. He zoned out completely when you tried to reassure him that it was not mandatory, at least not to you, but it went in through one ear and out the other. All he could think about was the prospect of kissing you and just how flustered he became thinking about it, creating a self destructive cycle. 

You poked his cheek, watching his frozen state half amused and half concerned. 

“Ya really think yer slick, huh,” Epel snapped out of his flustered shock and defaulted to aggression. 

“What are you talking about?” You deadpanned, crossing your arms.

“Standin’ under the mistletoe, knowin’ I would come ta find ya,” He huffs, cheeks a bright red, almost as bright as the apples he harvests. 

“If you were listening, I said we don’t have to do anything,” You point out, rolling your eyes. 

“You kiddin’?” Epel glares. “Ya know what happens if ya don’t follow tradition?” You raise an eyebrow at the sudden change. He’s lucky you like him so much, but you decide you want to tease him a little. 

“You’re right,” You nod, closing the gap between you both. His blue eyes widening at the sudden proximity, his flush spreading down his neck and to the tips of his ears. He mindlessly splutters, eyes darting towards anything but you, which was a challenge with your face so close. 

“Merry Christmas Epel,” You smile, kissing his cheek before pulling away, watching the lilac haired student melt into a metaphorical puddle of goo.

❥ Idia Shroud

When you finished your explanation, Idia’s hair tips turned a light pink, yellow eyes widening at the implications. He shoved his face into his hoodie, eyes darting around the room. He had only come over to hide from everyone, not to get bombarded with scary traditions that would have him…he couldn’t even think of it without trembling. 

“It’s just a fun holiday decoration,” You tried to assure, scratching your cheek. “Not like we actually have to do anything.”

“You…wha…it’s…” Idia tried to speak, but it felt like his brain was mush and his knees were jelly. You had no clue how much he wanted to be brave, to whisk you into a charming kiss that would leave you breathless, but you see, he could barely speak to you some days, how was he supposed to…to kiss you?! 

“Idia,” You spoke softly, gently taking one of his hands in your own, hoping to ground him in some way. Shaky eyes met your own, pale face burning a bright red, hair flaring a light pink. He trembled harder in your grasp, it was like his dreams were coming true while simultaneously unraveling in front of him at this very moment. He wishes he had an ounce of confidence, maybe he would’ve pecked your cheek, or maybe even the hand that was clasped around his sweaty one, but like the coward he was, he whimpered when you got closer to him, concern creasing your brows. 

“You…can,” Idia muttered, barely audible over the sound of Ace, Deuce, and Kalim shouting while playing some game. 

“I can…?” You question, unsure what he was talking about.

“You can…do the tradition…” For Idia, this was basically a confession, and you knew if you questioned him further he would overthink it and back out. So, to show mercy on his sweet soul, you pressed a light kiss to his cheek, causing the poor Ignihyde housewarden to blush even worse, nearly fainting at the action. Safe to say that Idia’s wish had come true.

❥ Malleus Draconia

“How quaint,” Malleus comments, eyes wide with wonder. “You humans have such lovely traditions.”

“It’s so common in my world,” You reply, hand resting on your chin in thought. “It’s weird to meet people who have never heard of it, though I suppose I should have when Christmas doesn’t exist here.”

“It’s such a charming holiday,” Malleus hums, eyes taking in all your handmade decorations, the cutout snowflakes that lined your walls, the twinkling fairy lights, and homemade stockings that lined your fireplace mantle. “I’m pleased that you have included me in your celebration.” “Of course,” You smiled at the tall dragon fae. “You’ve helped me so much in bringing my idea into reality, I owe you one.”

“You owe me nothing, child of man,” Malleus smiled back, fangs glistening in the warm light. “This is a night of festivities, to honor your bonds, no?”

“Yeah,” You agree. Unable to hold in all the positive emotions that were pinging around inside you, you lean up and place a quick kiss to his cheek. “That’s for catching me under the mistletoe.” You tried to explain off your actions, feeling yourself fluster at your bold actions. In the distance you could hear the squawking of a certain crocodile fae who was being held back. Malleus only watched you with reverent awe, a rare expression, as not much can astound the fae prince. 

“I see…” Malleus finally speaks, cheeks a light pink. “And you must do that every time you are caught under mistletoe?”

It seems you’ve unleashed something far greater than you could imagine. Not like you were going to stop him or anything.

❥ Lilia Vanrouge

“Ohoho~” Lilia giggles, wiggling his eyebrows. “How scandalous. Of course you managed to trap cute little me. Whatever will. I. do.” Crimson eyes set on you, his grin too devious for a cute face. While his words spoke one thing, it felt more like you who was trapped at the moment. 

“You sound a little too excited,” You observe, taking a cautious step back. 

Lilia giggled, taking a step towards you, “Can you blame me? I have to kiss a cutie like you, all because of a tradition from your world.”

“You don’t have to,” You point out, glancing left and right, wondering if you could escape Lilia’s teasing one way or another. 

“And break such a rule?” Lilia gasps overdramatically, placing a hand to his chest. “Do you truly think so lowly of me? What kind of fae would I be?” You gave him an unamused look, which goaded Lilia further in his dramatic spiel. You didn’t even notice when his face had approached yours, but now all you could see was a cute, old bat fae with choppy bangs. 

“Would you mind if I completed your tradition, little beastie?” He asked, eyes searching your own for any discomfort. All you could do was nod, feeling flustered at the fact that you could count every eyelash and feel his breath fan on your face. With your consent, he closes the gap, leaving a small peck against your lips before disappearing, then reappearing above you.

“Kehehe~” He laughs, staring at you upside down. “Maybe you’ll be my New Year's kiss as well.” And with that, he vanishes from your sight with a wink.

❥ Silver Vanrouge

Silver blinks sleepily, nodding along as you spoke.

“But it’s just something I wanted to hang for fun, I don’t expect anything to come from it,” You shrug, watching Silver’s calm reaction from the corner of your eye. 

“It’s pretty,” Silver agrees, eyes trailing back up to the twig above you. “And the sentiment is sweet. Bringing two people closer together.”

“I…never thought about it like that,” You pondered. “It was always just a cliche trope in Christmas movies that I never thought twice about.” Silver watched you with warm eyes, the tug of sleep threatening to take over, but his will to stay awake was just a tad bit stronger. 

The conversation falls silent for a few seconds, and you decide to be brave. Stepping towards Silver, your hand falls on his sleeve to stabilize yourself, leaning over to place a kiss on his cheek. Of course, it was your luck that Silver turned his head to face your own, causing your lips to meet in a brief kiss. You pulled back like you were burned with an iron, face felt like it was melting as Silver merely had a startled look. 

“S-sorry,” You stutter slightly, hiding your face behind your hands. “I was aiming for your cheek, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay,” Silver reassured, a light blush coating his cheeks. “I don’t mind…not if it’s you.” Those words made you feel like you were about to melt into the floorboards, and his shy expression wasn’t helping you at all. 

“O-oh,” You fidget with your sleeve, unsure how to progress further at such a revelation. “I’ll…keep that in mind.” Was the last thing Silver heard before he finally succumbed to his next dream filled with you.

❥ Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek listened intensely, cheeks flaring a bright red as it clicked in his mind. He was standing under the mistletoe…with you…

Just like that, he exploded, “HOW DARE YOU HUMAN!” Sebek shouts on the top of his lungs, a mix of fluster and embarrassment settle in his chest. “YOU SHOULD BE PUNISHED FOR SUCH INSOLENCE! HOW DARE YOU TRAP A RETAINER OF LORD MALLEUS IN SUCH A DISGUSTING PLOT!” 

You flinch at the loud volume, covering your ears at how his voice rattled in your brain, drowning out all other noise. You’re sure everyone was staring at you now, causing Sebek to become even more embarrassed. 

“Calm down,” You try to reason, slowly lowering your hands and holding them in a placating manner. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I just hung it up for aesthetics, that’s all.”

“Who do you take me for,” Sebek scolded, frown marring his lips as he glared daggers into you. “I must uphold the unknowing deal I have been forced into.”

“What?” You asked in confusion, guilt starting to pool in your chest. “I’m not forcing you into anything, you really think I’d do something like that?” 

Sebek let out a short breath, marching up to you like a soldier about to slay their enemy, then, with surprisingly gentle hands, he pulled your face close to his own and pressed a featherlight, barely there kiss. You blinked rapidly at such a fast moving pace, watching as Sebek pulled away like you had struck him. 

“THERE!” He shouts some more, causing everyone in the vicinity to look for an escape. His face was a bright cherry red, and you were concerned that he may pass out, “I HAVE COMPLETED YOUR STUPID HUMAN TRADITION! DO NOT EXPECT ME TO FALL FOR SUCH A TRICK NEXT TIME!” He then marched off, needing a bit of fresh air to calm himself down.

As the party wound down, and people started taking their exit, you let out a content sigh. Sure, Ramshackle may be a bit of a mess, but as you look at Ace and Deuce who fell asleep against each other on the couch, ugly sweaters you forced them to wear, then to Grim who was snoring as he lay in front of the dwindling fire, a warmth settled in your chest. You got to spend a Christmas with those you loved, sharing many memories, and some relationships possibly blooming into something more. You removed the santa hat you donned for most the night, grabbed a spare blanket to place over your two friends, and headed off to bed. The mess was a problem for tomorrow you. Tonight, you’ll bask in the Christmas cheer you managed to spread with your own two hands, and your thoughts may linger on the mistletoe kiss you shared with your crush.