The soft clatter of porcelain and the low hum of casual chatter filled the Academy café.
A polished space ward by afternoon light slipping through the glass panes.
In the far corner, away from the busier tables, a boy entered—composed and silent.
Nox walked with an expression that could only be described as void.
His white shirt was crisp, still tucked in neatly beneath a thin black tie, while his dark blue trousers fell straight over polished shoes.
Black gloves hugged his fingers, the only tell that perhaps he was hiding sothing more than just his touch.
He didn’t look around as he made his way to a secluded table.
Sitting opposite him was a girl.
One with sleek black hair and narrow, fox-like eyes.
Her posture was elegant yet sharp, every movent calculated.
Though her eyes rarely opened fully, the dangerous glint beneath their slits hinted at sothing cruel.
She wore the sa academy uniform, a dark blue skirt replacing the trousers, and the black tie that marked her status as a second-year student.
There were no greetings.
No smiles.
No one spoke.
She crossed her legs leisurely, raising the teacup near her lips, her manicured fingers curling gracefully around it.
Beside the porcelain was a perfect slice of red velvet cake, untouched.
She took a sip, savoring it like she had ti to burn.
"I see you still haven’t left that club... even after I clearly asked you to do a favor by leaving it..."
Her voice, while calm, had a sweet venom to it.
"...And that pink-haired airhead..."
She paused, her gaze lifting to read his reaction.
Nox didn’t move.
He barely blinked.
Her lips curled into a smile as if his silence was the very answer she desired.
"You do know you’re soon to be my one and only... It is only a matter of ti before Father settles the engagent..."
She reached across the table, placing her hand gently over his.
Her touch was soft, but the intent behind it was anything but kind.
Nox slowly looked at her hand, then t her eyes.
"What does she and the club have to do with anything?"
His voice was flat, quiet, but sharp.
The girl’s smile widened, her other hand brushing a strand of black hair behind her ear with theatrical ease.
Her red pupils—barely visible beneath her fox-like lids—shone like polished rubies.
"Oh my... I really had missed hearing your voice..."
Her fingers trailed briefly over her chest in mock sentint before she continued.
"Why you ask? It’s because of my love for you, Nox... you hanging around that pink-haired commoner makes my insides churn with jealousy..."
"You don’t want trouble for her... now do you, my love?"
He didn’t answer.
The silence wrapped tightly around them like suffocating plastic.
She leaned in, one of her eyes now open just a little more, revealing the crimson beneath.
Still smiling, always smiling.
"Plus... if you know what’s good for you, you’d better listen to ... since I ’know.’"
That word—"knows"—carried a different weight.
One that promised consequence.
Nox stared at her for a long mont before sliding his hand out from under hers.
He ran his fingers through his hair, briefly revealing his forehead, strands falling back monts later.
A small shift—just enough to reclaim a piece of his dignity, if not control.
The girl gave a small, breathy chuckle, her head now tilted slightly as her shoulder sloped lazily, amusent written across her face.
It was the kind of expression a cat might give a mouse after letting it run a few inches.
She blew him a kiss.
Nox didn’t react.
Instead, he glanced at the tea before him and the matching slice of red velvet cake.
The girl lifted her own teacup again, her voice still sugar-sweet, never once slipping out of its lodic cruelty.
"Have you brought what I asked for?"
She took another sip as if the answer didn’t matter.
Wordless, Nox reached into his coat and pulled out an envelope.
His black-gloved hand placed it neatly on the table between them.
The contents were thick—docunts, no doubt sensitive.
She stood.
Walking behind him now, she let her fingers dance across his shoulders, down his chest with a disturbing familiarity.
"Good boy..."
His tie shifted under her touch.
Nox reached up to straighten it silently, brushing off her invisible imprint.
"It’s a sha your family doesn’t know the type of person you are behind their backs..."
Her voice now whispered just above his ear.
"With this... you might have just given your family a disadvantage... but it’s still beneficial for the both of us..."
Her fingers raked back through his hair gently.
Then, she leaned in and kissed the top of his head.
She walked toward the door.
Pausing at the fra, she glanced over her shoulder one last ti.
Another blown kiss.
And then she was gone.
Left behind at the table, Nox sat still, his hands clenched over his thighs beneath the table—tight, unmoving.
Slowly, his eyes widened into a cold, soul-piercing glare.
His teeth clenched as if biting back a scream or an oath.
Just outside the café, the glass doors swung gently behind the fox-eyed girl.
A girl with red hair stood by the entrance.
She bowed politely, letting the older student pass.
As the dark-haired girl disappeared down the corridor, the redhead straightened.
Her crimson eyes flicked toward Nox through the glass with innocent concern, lips slightly parted as if unsure whether to call out or not.
She stood there, hesitant, her gaze shifting between the door and the boy at the corner table.
The one who hadn’t moved since she arrived.
***
[Embroidery and Tailoring Club Room]
The room, quiet and laced with the faint scent of lavender and old fabric, was lit dimly by the afternoon sun bleeding through gauzy curtains.
Spools of thread and bolts of cloth lined the shelves, like the backdrop to a forgotten drama waiting to unfold.
In the center, two people stood still—facing one another, frozen in the gravity of unspoken history.
Noel’s eyes t hers.
White hair fell like silk over her shoulders.
lissa, the club patron and fellow instructor.
Yet in that mont, she was more than just a colleague.
Her red eyes held layers, mories, regrets, and perhaps, a stubborn tenderness long buried.
They stared at each other like ghosts who never got to say goodbye.
Sothing trembled in the air between them.
Noel’s lips parted, barely.
The sound that escaped was almost nothing, more a breath than a voice.
"...ll."
It was quiet.
Too quiet to be caught by most.
But lissa heard it.
Her pupils contracted faintly, red irises widening just a bit.
The world paused.
Just for a second, the past threatened to return in full.
Noel stood rigid, almost cold to the untrained eye, but inside, emotions clashed like a storm behind steel gates.
His fists were clenched just out of view, but his expression didn’t crack.
His trait—[Calm Deanor]—held him together like mortar between fractured stone.
Barely.
Then, without warning, the present collapsed, replaced by a haunting mory that surged forward.
Three years ago — Eryndor, on Caravel Street
The night was cold.
A narrow cobblestone lane shimred under the rain, the lamps overhead glowing a lancholic gold.
They stood beneath the dark green awning of a closed restaurant—Bellmare’s, its na barely visible through the downpour.
The clatter of rain on roof tiles was loud, but it wasn’t loud enough to drown out the tallic clink of a ring hitting the ground.
Noel stood still, arm partially extended, his fingers slowly curling into his palm.
The silver ring bounced once, twice, then skittered against the stone before finally coming to a stop.
The sound echoed, absurdly loud in the hollow street.
lissa’s face was wet—not just with rain.
Her long white hair clung to her cheeks and neck.
The water blurred her expression, but not enough to hide the tears.
Her lips quivered, but she said nothing.
Not yet.
Noel had taken the ring from her hand.
Not torn. Not snatched. Taken.
His other hand hung at his side, trembling.
He stared at the ring, then at her.
Then he turned his back.
The silence between them scread louder than any words.
The ring’s tallic bounce still rang faintly in his mind.
Back in the embroidery room, Noel’s eyes blinked once—slowly—returning to the present.
His gaze was unreadable now, neutral, as if the mory had sunk once more beneath his skin where no one could see it.
lissa exhaled.
Her hands, which had hung motionless at her sides, slowly folded together, fingers curling until her knuckles whitened.
She looked away from Noel now and turned toward Lumi, who had been standing quietly.
"et back here in an hour..."
lissa said, voice steady but slightly thinner than usual.
"I’ll be going since I have sothing to take care of..."
As she reached the door, she paused.
Her hand lingered on the fra.
Her eyes remained forward, but her body stilled as if trapped in reconsideration.
Her other hand clenched tight around the edge of her coat.
Then, with a quiet breath, she shook herself free from the thought and stepped out.
Gone.
Silence lingered for a beat longer.
Lumi and Grassia glanced toward each other—an uncertain understanding shared in their glance.
Then, finally, Noel spoke.
"Thank you for the gift."
His tone was formal. asured. Distant.
He turned, walking out of the room after lissa—though never quite following her.
Only the soft rustle of fabric remained, and then that too faded.
"..."
"Whoa..."
Lumi’s voice broke the silence, her wide eyes still locked on the door through which the two instructors had just left.
"Please tell you felt it..."
She added, clutching the hem of her uniform shirt with both hands as if to contain her excitent.
Grassia, standing a few feet away with her arms loosely folded, glanced sideways at her pink-haired best friend and gave a asured nod.
"I felt it..."
They both spoke again at the sa ti—but what ca out was hilariously different.
"The intense romantic tension!" Lumi said, breathless.
"The awkward trauma bonding," Grassia said flatly.
They blinked at each other.
"What, no..."
Lumi frowned.
"I ant the love between them."
Grassia raised her hands, making exaggerated air quotes with her fingers.
"I don’t think I’d call glares like that... ’love.’"
Lumi huffed.
"You do rember what I told you, right?"
Grassia said.
Lumi leaned back slightly, folding her arms more tightly.
"You’ve told a lot of things, Grassia.
Including that the last outfit I wore gave you secondhand heartburn."
"I ant about the senior instructor and our club patron."
Grassia clarified, ignoring Lumi’s sass.
"They’re no longer engaged."
"That doesn’t an anything..."
Lumi countered with dramatic flair.
"It doesn’t an their love for each other ceased..."
Grassia let out a sigh, not entirely exasperated—more like a sister trying to reason with soone who insists that love can be stitched back together with a needle and enough pink thread.
"By the way..."
Grassia muttered.
"I wonder...why did they leave each other in the first place?"
They both paused.
Then the theorizing began.
"Maybe... maybe their families didn’t approve in the long run?"
Lumi offered, tilting her head, already lost in the possibilities.
"Maybe one of them betrayed the other..."
Grassia said, rubbing her chin with a suspicious squint.
"Or lissa thought she was holding him back..."
Lumi added, eyes wide with dramatic tragedy.
"Or Noel buried himself in work until he forgot how to feel anything."
"Maybe there was a secret mission! Or he was cursed!"
Lumi said with a gasp.
"Or they thought the other was dead but actually wasn’t—!"
"Lumi..."
Grassia stopped her with a hand.
"They’re both from powerhouses. It probably had to do with that. Power struggles, bloodline contracts, status differences..."
Lumi’s excitent dimd to a thoughtful hum.
"Oh..."
She placed a hand on her hip, then closed her eyes.
"Well..."
She said after a beat.
"I’ll try bringing them back together."
"Eh?"
Grassia nearly stumbled.
Lumi nodded seriously, her pink hair bouncing.
"I an, love is like tailoring, right? It’s about the right asurents, the right material, and knowing when to stitch and when to cut.
Sotis you’ve got to hem up the past to make the future fit right!"
Grassia’s mouth opened slightly in disbelief.
"And you know..."
Lumi added as she struck a pose, one hand on her hip and the other pointing to the sky.
"I am a matchmaker! And compatible people are for life!"
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