The door clicked shut.
Jorin's footsteps faded down the hallway.
Silence returned to the room.
For a long moment, neither Con nor Isabelle moved.
They were still on the floor, frozen in the exact position Jorin had witnessed.
Isabelle spoke first.
"…you should probably get off."
Con immediately moved away, standing as if the floor had suddenly become hot.
"Yes."
Isabelle sat up slowly, smoothing the wrinkles from her clothes. Her composure returned quickly, though the situation was still awkward.
Con, however, felt something very different.
The moment he stepped away from her, something inside him twisted violently.
A strange heat rushed through his chest.
Then his stomach.
Then lower.
His breath became uneven.
What…
He clenched his hands tightly.
What is this?
He had fought monsters.
Used magic.
Even vaporized a bear without blinking.
But this—
This feeling made absolutely no sense.
His ears burned.
Then his neck.
The color spread across his pale skin like fire.
Isabelle noticed immediately.
"…are you alright?"
Con said nothing.
Because he was not.
The urge had appeared suddenly.
Sharp.
Overwhelming.
A powerful impulse to pull her back toward him.
To hold her again.
Closer.
And—
His thoughts stopped abruptly.
His face became even redder.
No.
He forcibly looked away.
Isabelle tilted her head, watching him carefully.
"Your breathing changed."
Con remained silent.
She stepped closer.
"…did you chase me because you like me?"
Con reacted instantly.
"No."
The answer came far too quickly.
Far too firmly.
He almost sounded alarmed.
Isabelle raised an eyebrow.
"That was an immediate denial."
"Because it's incorrect."
His voice was tense now.
Too tense.
Inside his mind, things were much worse.
Why do I want to grab her again?
Why does she smell nice?
Why does my chest feel like this?
And the most terrifying thought—
Why do I want to kiss her?
Con's ears burned even hotter.
He could barely keep his breathing steady.
His instincts were screaming at him.
Not danger.
Not fear.
Something much worse.
Isabelle studied him curiously.
"You're sweating."
"I am not."
"You are."
"I'm fine."
"You look like you're about to collapse again."
Con took a step backward.
"No."
He pointed firmly toward the door.
"You should leave."
Isabelle frowned.
"I still have questions."
"You can ask them another time."
"Why?"
Con's grip tightened against the wall behind him.
"Because I said so."
She crossed her arms stubbornly.
"That is not a reason."
Con took another step toward the door.
"It is today."
Isabelle didn't move.
"I'm not done speaking with you."
That was the worst possible sentence she could have said.
Because the closer she stood, the worse the strange feeling became.
Con's brain felt like it was melting.
This is bad.
Very bad.
He had never experienced anything like this before.
Con walked forward abruptly.
Isabelle blinked as he grabbed her shoulders and guided her firmly toward the door.
"Wait—"
"You should leave."
"I still have questions."
"You can ask them later."
"Why later?"
Con opened the door.
"Because right now is not a good time."
She planted her foot against the floor.
"You fainted on me and chased me across the city. I think I deserve answers."
Con pushed her gently but insistently into the hallway.
"You will get them."
"When?"
"Later."
She narrowed her eyes.
"You're acting suspicious."
"I'm acting practical."
"Practical people do not shove their guests outside."
"I'm making an exception."
Before she could argue again—
SLAM.
The door shut.
Isabelle stood in the hallway staring at it.
"…that man is unbelievable."
Inside the room—
Con leaned back against the door.
His legs nearly gave out.
He slid down slowly until he was sitting on the floor.
His face was completely red.
From his ears.
Down his neck.
Across his pale skin.
His breathing was sluggish and uneven.
"…what was that…"
He covered his face with both hands.
His thoughts replayed the moment on the floor.
Her hair brushing his arm.
Her warmth beneath him.
Her scent.
Con groaned quietly.
"…that was extremely inappropriate."
He had never had thoughts like that before.
Not once in his entire life.
And suddenly—
They appeared all at once.
Strong.
Confusing.
Embarrassing.
Harun had once mentioned something vaguely similar.
A long time ago.
Con slowly lowered his hands.
"…is this…"
He hesitated before saying the word.
"…puberty?"
Harun had described it as a "very troublesome time."
Con stared at the ceiling in disbelief.
"…this is terrible."