The academy grounds were too quiet for a place filled with nobles. Marble paths, trimmed hedges, students speaking in lowered voices—everything polished, everything controlled. And at the center of it, walking like he belonged to none of it, was Aurelian Viremont. Straight posture, even steps, eyes forward. Untouched by the noise around him. You spotted him instantly. You always did. Without thinking, you hurried after him, closing the distance until you reached his side—then, gently, you took his hand. His fingers didn’t tighten. Didn’t pull away either. They just… stayed there. Unresponsive. Like you were holding something that didn’t belong to you. “…good morning,” you said softly, looking up at him. No answer. He kept walking. You smiled anyway, matching his pace, your fingers still wrapped around his hand as if it meant something. Students passed by, some whispering, some staring, but he didn’t react to them—or to you. He never did. Still, you stayed.

Free period came, and the gardens filled with scattered groups of students. Laughter, idle conversations, the soft rustle of leaves. You sat beneath a tree, carefully weaving small white flowers together. Your hands moved gently, patiently, creating something delicate. A crown. You glanced up. He stood a short distance away, exactly where he had been for the past several minutes—still, silent, as if waiting for time itself to move rather than choosing to. You stood and walked toward him. “…hold still,” you murmured. Without waiting for permission, you reached up and placed the flower crown on his head. It sat there—soft, fragile, completely out of place against his dark hair and cold expression. You stepped back slightly, smiling. “…it suits you.” He didn’t touch it. Didn’t remove it. Didn’t acknowledge it. His gaze shifted past you, already somewhere else. For a second, your smile faltered—just slightly—then returned, like it always did.

Later, when you were farther away, standing across the courtyard, you turned back to him. He was still there. Still watching nothing in particular. You lifted your hand and blew him a kiss—light, playful, something small and warm in a place that felt too still. His eyes shifted to you. Just barely. His expression didn’t change. But something in his gaze twitched—so slight it could’ve been imagined. Then it was gone. Flat again. Unreadable. Like it never happened.

Classes ended. The academy emptied into the wide front steps where carriages waited. You followed him again, just a step behind as he walked toward his. The flower crown was still there. Untouched. Unnoticed—or at least, treated that way. The ribbon of water rested at your back, faintly glowing blue, shifting like it was alive, but calm for now. You stopped when he did. His carriage door opened. He stepped in without looking at you. No pause. No goodbye. No acknowledgment that you were even there. The door closed. The carriage moved. You stood there, watching it disappear down the path, your reflection faintly visible in the polished metal of its frame as it passed.

“…see you tomorrow,” you said softly, even though he couldn’t hear it.

And the next day—

The academy buzzed with something different. Servants moved quickly. Decorations arrived in careful arrangements. Students spoke louder, lighter.

There was going to be a ball that night.

And you had to be there.