The afternoon sun baked the back of my neck, and the breeze slipping through the window hummed a lullaby I couldn't resist. I hadn't intended to sleep, but my eyelids grew heavy, gravity winning the war against my will. Before I knew it, the world faded to black right there in the back row.
When my eyes finally fluttered open, the room had fallen into a heavy silence. Empty desks sat in rows like gravestones, sunlight stretched lazily across the floorboards, and the only sound was the hollow echo of distant footsteps in the hall.
"Hey. Wake up already. You've been out cold this whole time." The voice grated against my ears.
I peeled my face off the desk, groggy and disoriented, to find George looming over me. He dropped my bag onto the wood with a deliberate thud that vibrated right through my skull.
I yawned, cracking my knuckles as I stretched my arms toward the ceiling. "What the... I didn't even realize I slept through the whole afternoon. Man, it's too easy to fall asleep here. The breeze, the corner seat by the window—it's practically a trap."
George snorted, shaking his head. "You're impossible."
George and I had been joined at the hip since our first year of high school. He was the definition of forceful extroversion—the type who just walked up to strangers, decided they were friends, and that was that. With shock-orange hair that made him a beacon in any crowd and sharp emerald eyes that always seemed to be plotting something, he was impossible to ignore. For a fifteen-year-old, he was built average—not scrawny, not buff. Just George.
"You planning on standing up anytime soon, or should I leave you here to rot?" he asked, crossing his arms.
"I'm up, I'm up," I grumbled, kicking my chair back and snagging the strap of my bag. "Where are the other two?"
"They had stuff to do. Told me to go on ahead."
I scratched the back of my head, letting out a sigh. "Figures. Alright then, let's go."
We stepped out into the corridor, and the emptiness of the building pressed in on us. The hall stretched out like a tunnel, silent and still.
"What's wrong?" George tilted his head, a mocking grin already tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Don't tell me you're creeped out just because we're the last ones here. Took you forever to wake up, man."
"Tch, don't start," I muttered, waving him off as we rounded the corner toward the stairwell.
And that's when physics turned against me.
A blur of motion—someone sprinting flat out—came barreling down the hall. Before my brain could send a signal to my legs, she crashed into me. Wham. The impact wasn't violent enough to break bones, but it sent her reeling backward. She hit the floor hard.
"Whoa—!" My heart hammered against my ribs. "Are you okay?"
The girl winced, sitting up slowly. Chestnut-brown waves spilled over her shoulders, catching the late afternoon light and turning to copper, with faint curls dancing at the ends. For a second, my lungs forgot their job. I just stared.
"Ouch... that really hurt," she murmured, rubbing her temple.
Peripheral vision caught George. His face was already contorting, fighting a losing battle against amusement. He slapped a hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking, the glint in his eyes betraying him completely.
"You're in trouble now," he choked out, snickering. Then, his expression shifted into a mask of theatrical urgency. He clamped a heavy hand onto my shoulder, leaning in close like he was delivering a deathbed confession. "Listen, Kil... I know we're friends and all, but you understand, right? My jackpot's about to hit—I can't hold it in! My stomach's killing me!"
Before I could even process the absolute nonsense spewing from his mouth, he bolted. His footsteps thundered down the hall, leaving me stranded with the girl I'd just bowled over.
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. Typical George.
I knew it. He totally ditched me on purpose, throwing out that half-baked "I need the bathroom" excuse. Yeah, right. He just wanted to leave me to deal with the awkwardness alone.
I crouched down, softening my expression, and held out a hand. "You okay, Aika?"
Her eyelids fluttered open—and I froze. Hazel. Not just brown, but a shimmering kaleidoscope of green and gold that seemed to trap the light. My mind went blank.
I scratched my cheek, heat creeping up my neck, but I kept my hand steady. Then—contact. Softness. Warmth. Her palm slid into mine, and I almost forgot how to exhale. It was the first time I'd ever held a girl's hand, and my nervous system responded by making me laugh like a complete idiot.
Still, I tightened my grip just enough to pull her up gently. For a heartbeat, the world went quiet. Just those hazel eyes, the thudding of my pulse, and a faint blush rising on both our faces. It was… sensory overload.
"I-I'm sorry, Aika," I blurted, dropping into a slight bow. Smooth, Kil. Real smooth.
The silence that followed stretched like taffy. When I finally dared to look up, her cheeks were still dusted with pink, and her gaze lingered on me in a way that made my stomach do gymnastics.
"You're… Aika from Class-1, right?" I asked, desperate to fill the void. "I mean, everyone on campus knows who you are."
Her lips parted, and she spoke. Her voice was soft, crystalline, but the words carried a sudden chill. "Why do you call me Aika? Shouldn't you address me by my last name?"
Ice flooded my veins. Oh, crap. Of course. First names are for friends. Way to go, Kil. Nice job sounding like a stalker.
And because my brain clearly had a death wish, the next words that slipped past my lips were: "A-Aika? Why were you in such a hurry?"
Her eyes widened, narrowing instantly into sharp blades. Oh no. I said it again. Idiot. Idiot! She's going to think I'm some creep. Which, fine, maybe I've noticed her around campus, but that's not the point right now!
Her fist clenched. I saw the muscle twitch, but before I could flinch—bam.
Stars exploded across my vision. Her fist connected with my cheek with shocking precision. The world tilted on its axis, and I stumbled back, clutching my face. Damn, she hit like a truck.
By the time I shook the dizziness away and staggered after her, she was already storming off toward her classroom. Since our rooms were neighbors—mine Class-2, hers Class-1—I ended up trailing behind her like a lost puppy, still nursing my throbbing cheek.
She stopped at her door. I leaned against the frame, watching her rummage around the room, hunting for whatever she had forgotten. Against all better judgment, I took a step closer.
"Just a question, Ai—Miss Evergarden?" I caught myself on the precipice of saying her first name again. Seriously, what is wrong with my wiring today?
Her eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering in their depths like a warning light. "Why would I tell you? Who even are you?"
The words died in my throat.
Oh dear god. The rumors were right. She really is impossible to talk to.
She turned her back on me without waiting for an answer, resuming her search as if I were a ghost. I let out a quiet sigh, torn between leaving and staying.
One by one, she raided the desks at the front of the room, her movements sharp and frantic. A drawer slid open, slammed shut—still nothing.
"Where could it be? I need to know what happens next in the story… I'm almost done with Volume 4," she whispered to the empty air.
But I heard it. Every word.
So that's what she's after—a book.
I scanned the classroom, my eyes sweeping the grid of desks until they snagged on something near the teacher's podium. A paperback lay abandoned on the floor, half-open, its colorful cover peeking out from beneath a chair. I walked over, scooped it up, and flipped it open.
"I'm the Strongest Assassin?" I read aloud, genuine curiosity slipping into my tone.
Before I could flip another page, the book was snatched from my hands. Aika stood there, her glare meeting mine, hazel eyes sharp as she clutched the volume protectively against her chest.
"Where did you find this?" Her tone was cold, guarded—but even through the ice, her voice held that gentle, angelic quality that made my chest tighten.
I raised a hand in surrender and pointed toward the teacher's desk. "On the floor. Right there, under the chair."
She followed my gesture, then lowered her gaze. The aggression melted away, replaced by a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "T-thank you… for finding it."
My heart skipped a beat.
Did she just—?
She just thanked me.
For a moment, oxygen seemed optional. My face burned hotter than a furnace, and I knew I must've looked ridiculous standing there, frozen, eyes wide as saucers.
"Hey… I said thank you," she repeated softly, glancing up through her lashes.
I scrambled to regain my composure, forcing out a casual laugh and waving my hand dismissively. "It's nothing. Anyway… let's go. I'm already late getting home."
With that, I shoved my trembling hands into my pockets and strode past her, channeling every ounce of willpower to look calm and collected. Inside, however, my heart was doing backflips.
She followed a moment later. Once we stepped out, she paused to lock the classroom door while I headed toward the stairs. Not even a few seconds later, the rapid patter of footsteps told me she was running to catch up.
Wait—why did I even stick around to help her? Why did I wait? What am I doing… acting like her boyfriend or something? No, no, no. Stop.
The stairwell amplified the silence, every step echoing against the concrete. Neither of us spoke, and the air grew heavy with unsaid words. My chest felt tight. I had to break the tension—anything was better than this.
"Uh… so?" I blurted, glancing back at her awkwardly over my shoulder.
She turned her head slightly, those hazel eyes meeting mine. Just that small gesture—graceful, unhurried—felt like Cupid had let loose a volley of arrows straight into my chest.
"What is it?" she asked, her voice calm and steady.
My mind went blank. Was this a dream? Did goddesses really walk the same dusty hallways as the rest of us?
"By the way… where are your things? Why didn't you bring them with you?" I asked, my right hand still buried in my pocket, the other unconsciously brushing the cheek Aika had punched earlier. It still stung.
"They're with Emma. I asked her to hold onto them so I wouldn't have trouble searching." Her reply was effortless, her voice like music that refused to fade from my ears.
We descended the last flight of stairs and stepped onto the ground floor. The school layout spread out before us: three main buildings. Two faced each other like rivals locked in a staring contest, while our own stood between them, acting as the bridge. At the base of the trio lay the playground—a wide open space that had become more than just a place for games. It was the social heart of the school, where laughter echoed off the walls during breaks.
And waiting there was Emma Velouria. Blonde curls framed a face that was currently etched with impatience. She was practically glued to Aika's side usually, the kind of best friend who was more like a shadow.
"Took you long enough. Here are your things," Emma said, shoving the bag over.
"It wasn't easy to find. What could I do?" Aika replied, her words light, her tone—still unbearably angelic.
I kept my cool—or at least tried to. Hands buried deep in my pockets, I walked past the two of them like I hadn't been secretly clinging to every syllable. But of course, I caught every word.
"Who's that guy? You two came here together, didn't you?" Emma asked, curiosity dripping from her voice.
"He's the one who found my book," Aika answered, her voice dropping an octave, softer than before. "And… he seems familiar."
"He's from Class-2, right next door to us," Emma said matter-of-factly.
"Oh, right. Waiiiit!"
The sudden shout made me skid to a halt. I turned around just in time to see Aika running toward me, her hair bouncing with each step. She looked light, almost… cute. My heart nearly leapt out of my throat.
"What's the problem, Miss Evergarden?" I asked, forcing my voice to stay cool, acting like my pulse wasn't racing at a million miles an hour.
She stopped in front of me, catching her breath, then looked up with those devastating hazel eyes. "What's your name?"
For a split second, my brain short-circuited. She asked my name. She actually wants to know my name. My chest tightened, and I could feel the heat creeping up my neck. Maybe… maybe she wasn't as cold and unapproachable as everyone claimed.
I smiled despite myself and extended my hand, praying it didn't look like it was trembling. "Kil Whitlock," I said, trying to sound confident.
Her fingers slipped into mine. Soft. Gentle. "Aika Evergarden. Pleased to meet you, Kil."
And just like that, I nearly exploded on the spot. She smiled—at me. At me.
My pulse went wild, my face burned crimson, and my hand shook slightly in hers. Her skin was smooth, her grip delicate, and for a fleeting moment, I thought I might actually die from happiness.
"I-I-It's also… a pleasure to meet you, Miss Evergarden," I stammered, quickly pulling my hand back before my nerves completely betrayed me.
Shoving it back into my pocket, I forced a relaxed smile, acting as though the earth beneath me hadn't just shifted on its axis. I gave both Aika and Emma a casual nod, then turned and continued toward the gate of Clenmark School, doing everything I could to maintain the fragile illusion of composure.
Inside, though? My heart was screaming.