Chapter 3:
Demian twirled his pen with his right hand, eyes fixed on Gilrotta. The professor’s lecture went in one ear and out the other. A strange feeling—one of unease—gnawed at him as he watched Gilrotta.
Ayla had never cared about anyone. She never paid attention to anyone. That very Ayla had shown interest in someone for the first time at the academy—and in a man, no less. He didn’t like that. Not one bit.
Just how unique must that scent have been for Ayla to remember it?
And why had such a scent come from a student in the literature department?
Countless hypotheses branched out in his mind, but none reached a conclusion. He needed more information beyond the fragmented pieces he already had. If he were in the Imperial Palace, he’d use an informant—but unfortunately, this was just the academy. He had no choice but to rely on the surrounding rumors. Thankfully, he had already built a good image for himself here.
“Hey, what are you doing? It’s over.”
Tap.
The spinning pen dropped onto his notebook. Demian snapped out of his thoughts at Ayla’s voice. She was standing next to him, looking down with a puzzled expression.
Demian looked forward. Gilrotta, whom he had been watching the whole time, was gone, and so was the professor. Only a few students remained in the large lecture hall.
“If you’re not coming, I’ll go ahead.”
Demian quickly grabbed the hem of Ayla’s jacket as she turned to leave. She looked back with an irritated expression, as if to say, What the hell are you doing? Annoying as ever, Demian just smiled sweetly.
“Let’s go together, Ayla.”
He stood up, letting go of her jacket and offering his hand instead. Without realizing it, Ayla took it instinctively. Demian’s smile deepened.
As they exited the lecture hall, Ayla spoke firmly.
“Next time, I’m going to leave without you.”
But Demian didn’t believe her for a second. Ayla was always like that at the academy—acting indifferent, but never actually ignoring him.
“Got it. I won’t make you wait next time.”
As he said this, he gently brushed aside her golden hair, tousled by the breeze coming through the open window. Ayla stopped in her tracks, dumbfounded, and stared at him blankly. Her face began to flush red. Demian looked at her, feigning innocence.
“Hm? What’s wrong?”
This… this… crazy—!
Ayla wanted to scream, but she couldn’t, not with so many eyes around. The ear he had touched was burning hot.
She forcefully yanked her hand away from his and walked off quickly, almost running, leaving the clueless Demian standing behind.
“Hey? Ayla, wait up!”
She completely ignored his call from behind.
This guy is the problem.
He didn’t understand the concept of personal space. She’d even grabbed his hand—subconsciously at that—in the middle of a hallway where everyone could see.
The fact that she had gotten used to this distance was the real issue.
With no one to vent to, she wrote it in a letter. And what did Eileen say?
Isn’t that a good thing?
Apparently, having a handsome guy treat you well was supposed to be a good thing. Since when had her sister become so superficial? It was outrageous. There wasn’t a single person around her who was actually helpful. Life really was a solo journey, just like they said. Even life at the academy had to be navigated alone.
With a sigh, Ayla arrived at her next lecture hall. It was already packed with students. The only seat left was in the front row. Which, to her, was the perfect spot anyway. She walked to the front and sat down.
Shortly after, Demian sat beside her. In truth, when she arrived alone, some students had whispered about whether the two of them had fought. But Ayla, entirely uninterested, hadn’t noticed.
“Ayla. Why’d you ditch me again?”
Demian sulked beside her. Ayla ignored him and opened her book and notebook.
“Aylaaa. Why’d you leave me behind?”
“If you were me…!”
Frustrated by his endless whining, Ayla almost shouted, but then lowered her voice to a whisper, conscious of the eyes around them.
“Because you pulled that stunt in the hallway!”
“What stunt?”
“You grabbed my hand! And… and touched my hair!”
“So what? We’re friends. Isn’t that okay…?”
Demian’s eyes drooped like a sad puppy. Even though he was clearly in the wrong, Ayla found herself feeling guilty. She should push back. Even if they were friends…! Yes, they were friends, but…! Ayla opened her mouth, but no words came out. Looking at Demian, whining like a wet puppy, her resolve wavered.
Eventually, she said something completely different from what she’d intended.
“…Fine. It’s okay. Just… whatever.”
At her words, Demian’s face lit up with a bright smile, as if he had never been upset in the first place. Like a dog wagging its tail.
And behind them, a girl who had unintentionally witnessed everything shook her head.
Yep. A lover’s quarrel really is like slicing water with a knife.
A boy glanced around nervously, trying to hide his trembling hands. The only light on the pitch-dark street came from a sliver of moonlight, barely bigger than a fingernail.
No one was there—yet he felt like someone was constantly following him.
He rummaged through his coat in the dim light. He knew he shouldn’t do it, but his body didn’t listen. In a hurry, he shoved something into his mouth.
Crunch.
He chewed it.
Ahh…
A sigh that sounded almost like a moan escaped him. The anxiety and tension melted away, leaving only euphoria. A feeling of soaring dangerously high.
Then came the crash.
He couldn’t even scream. His mouth just opened and closed silently. His body went limp, and as his vision blurred, his eyes closed.
The clouds covered the moon.
And the darkness swallowed the boy whole.
Using the charisma that charmed even commoners, Demian had gathered some information about Gilrotta. But in the end, there wasn’t much to know.
Gilrotta was eighteen—an adult. The academy accepted students from ages thirteen to fifteen, so that wasn’t meaningful. More importantly, Gilrotta had a very small circle of friends—practically none. Apparently, he’d had close friends in the first year, but they had either taken a leave of absence or dropped out.
It wasn’t unusual. Though the scholarship system for commoner students was decent, it wasn’t always enough. Some took time off to work and save up for tuition, and others, rather than face academic failure, chose to withdraw entirely.
Demian recalled Gilrotta’s grades. Ayla only cared about first or second place, but Demian always saw Gilrotta’s name on the ranking boards. Though his rank fluctuated, he consistently placed in the top five. That would qualify him for a full scholarship.
A commoner, yes—but with no tuition worries. Though Demian didn’t know about his family situation, perhaps he came from wealth. Maybe he was one of the new “bourgeois” types emerging recently. In that case, buying perfume wouldn’t be hard.
And since perfume mixes with a person’s unique body scent, the resulting aroma might differ from what’s written on the label. Maybe that was the case with Gilrotta.
If so, was this strange feeling just a baseless hunch?
But the peculiar herbal scent… Demian couldn’t brush off Ayla’s comment so lightly. It seemed he needed to change direction in his investigation.
He pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. Ayla would be coming out soon. He headed toward the Caelum building.
As expected, Ayla was just stepping out.
Demian cheerfully called her name.
“Ayla!”
She turned her head, and he waved at her. After glancing around hesitantly, she lowered her head and waved back. Demian grinned and quickly walked over to her. Under the streetlamp, her ears appeared slightly red.
Ayla, realizing he’d already reached her in the shadows, tried to leave quickly. She’d already done more than enough.
“That’s it, right? I’m leaving.”
But Demian’s hand was quicker than her steps—he grabbed hers.
“Hey, what are you—?!”
“I’ll walk you back. It’s late.”
“Wait… You were waiting for me?”
He always followed her to the library, but today he hadn’t. After studying, he usually walked her back to the dorms. But today was later than usual, and she hadn’t thought he’d still be here. The night had grown quiet and dark.
“How long were you waiting?”
Now that she noticed, his hand felt cold. Spring may have come, but the night air was still chilly.
“It’s fine. I came out just in time.”
“How did you know when I’d come out?”
“Just… instinct?”
Demian smiled like it was nothing. Ayla let out a deep sigh, not knowing what to do with this clueless puppy.
“I give up. Do whatever you want.”
She was tired from overworking her brain, and she didn’t want to argue. And besides, no one was around. She could allow this much. Honestly, she still wasn’t sure how far friend boundaries went.
Resigned, Ayla took Demian’s hand.
A cool breeze rustled the leaves and brushed past their joined hands.
A pale crescent moon hung low over the path.
