Chapter 50
'But for some reason, every time I watch her back walking away, I know she will return.
Whether bringing new questions, or simply remaining silent, staring.'
Sometimes, in the midst of a relentless barrage of questions arriving like unending arrows, Theo tries to seek refuge in laughter.
He would answer while raising an eyebrow, his mouth delivering sarcastic jokes often more bitter than the coffee he drank every morning.
"You know," he said once, tapping his ear, "I'm beginning to suspect that these ears of mine were created just to endure your endless curiosity."
The bitter jest he directed at himself, amid a situation that had surpassed the limits of his patience.
All of this judged him sharply, revealing the misfortune of having to continually listen to questions that even the bravest philosophers would hesitate to answer.
Yet the laughter quickly vanished, replaced by a long exhale—because after a brief pause, Theo knew Aldraya was not finished.
He understood that whenever he thought he had ended the conversation, she would return with a new "why."
And therein lay the strangeness—because Aldraya, though often receiving answers filled with jokes, sarcasm, or even boredom, never showed a significant reaction.
No change crossed her face.
Flat, calm, resembling the surface of water untouched by the wind.
Her body language remained the same.
Upright, gentle, without excessive movement.
Her voice never rose, never cracked, as if each word had been measured with the balance possessed only by those who have made peace with silence.
She stayed there, close enough to make Theo uncomfortable, yet far enough to remain untouchable.
Her eyes occasionally drifted to the surroundings—examining every corner, every shadow clinging to the walls, every whisper of air passing through the leaves.
Then, after the silence hung for too long, Aldraya would speak again.
A new question emerged, stranger than the last—as if she deliberately challenged Theo to remain at the edge of patience.
Sometimes she asked trivial things, like why humans dream, but sometimes she asked matters piercing the heart, such as why someone is willing to sacrifice for a world that never remembers them.
And each time it happened, Theo would look at her for a long moment, then respond carelessly—sometimes with illogical reasoning, sometimes with answers he knew were wrong—just so the girl would stop staring at him with those excessively deep eyes.
Yet, of course, that hope was in vain.
Because every time he thought it was over, Aldraya returned.
Bringing another question, bringing another silence, bringing something Theo could not refuse even though his entire body resisted.
Between them, the conversation was like an endless circle.
Theo answered to avoid, Aldraya asked to approach.
Until, in the end, all that remained were two souls trapped between forced laughter and unwavering gazes.
'Arc one, early episode eight, huh?
I still remember clearly how this scenario was written.
Ridiculous, it seemed, in the midst of my boredom facing Aldraya, who every day asked absurd things, yet the world prepared a new chapter for her—alongside that boy, Ilux.
I didn't know whether to laugh or curse, but the reality is that the scenario always has a strange sense of humor.'
Fiaaah - fiuuuush!
'While I am here busy smacking my forehead each time Aldraya appears with a new question about "why humans have eyebrows," elsewhere, she sits in a student's room, reading a book.
And not just any book—but at first, oh God, a teenage love story.
I could almost imagine her expression when Ilux read the first line.
Flat, cold, then suddenly standing as if to leave, refusing to involve herself further in such foolishness.
Peeking from behind the mosquito-netted window, I heard Aldraya respond flatly, "I did not come here to hear nonsense."
Hooooh - haaaah!
'But apparently, the boy had some reasoning.
After a long debate—half of which I'm sure was filled with stiff stares and nervous explanations—Ilux finally changed the reading topic to something heavier.
About devoted servants, about those who embrace God within their hearts, and contemplation greater than teenage love.
And strangely, the girl stopped.
She did not leave.
She leaned slightly forward, afraid to miss a single word from the boy.'
Fussssh!
'Ah, a date between readers—even fate knows how to craft irony.'
Arc one, early episode eight opened like a morning not yet fully awake from a dream—the air in the Star Academy still cloaked in cold dew, and sunlight filtering through the long windows of the reading room, casting light onto wooden tables.
Here, without intention and without any plan, the beginning of something intricate and slow began to weave.
The closeness between Aldraya and Ilux.
The world outside may still have been noisy with accusations, whispers, and shadows of discrimination following Ilux's steps, but inside the room, time seemed to lower its pace.
The books on the shelves became witnesses to how two people, both seeking tranquility, eventually found their reflection in each other.
Theo, on a different side that morning, remained as usual.
Sitting under a tree behind the academy, answering Aldraya's questions that had previously arrived like a relentless rain.
He answered without intent, sometimes staring at the sky, sometimes closing his eyes as if measuring when she would grow bored.
Yet strangely, no matter how indifferent Theo's responses were, Aldraya kept returning—bringing new questions, bringing similar silence, until finally, after the meaningless conversation, she turned toward the library, where Ilux was reading alone in the farthest corner of the room.
Here, the line of fate slowly shifted.
Not because of a plan, but because of repeated coincidence.
Ilux and Aldraya met not through greetings, not through long conversations, but through the silence they shared.
Between open pages, the sound of rustling paper and the ticking of the wall clock became the rhythm that united them.
They both enjoyed the scent of old books, both immersed in a world demanding nothing but understanding.
Sometimes Ilux noticed the title of the book Aldraya was reading—a title he had also finished before everyone began looking at him as an enemy—and Aldraya, without much speaking, would turn the page slightly faster, as if deliberately showing that they were reading the same words.
There, in that silent pause, something grew.
Not a love that shouts, but a feeling quietly weaving itself among the stacks of books.
The scene began on a quiet night—the air in the dormitory still carrying the chill left by the afternoon rain.
The oil lamp in Ilux's room glowed softly, casting golden light on the walls filled with bookshelves and scattered papers.
There, Aldraya stood at the doorway, still wearing her teacher's uniform with a small ribbon at her neck, watching Ilux motion for her to enter.
She hesitated, but Ilux's calm gaze and gentle, inviting voice finally made her step slowly inside.
Perhaps, in her mind, there was nothing special about that night.
Just a simple visit, a small mischief after a long day filled with lessons and academy reports.
Yet behind that simplicity, something warm began slipping into the otherwise silent air.
Ilux opened the book he had prepared—a worn cover containing a collection of teenage love stories.
He intended to read a passage to Aldraya, in a tone slightly awkward, slightly too gentle for a man often misunderstood as a threat.
But after only a few lines, Aldraya raised her hand, her eyes flat and lips forming a firm line.
To be continued…