Crunch!
The sound was deafening.
And not just physically, especially psychologically, for the girls who hadn’t expected it to be this bad.
None of them thought they’d be here, forced to witness sothing so ridiculous, so romantic, so aggressively dostic that it felt borderline illegal in an academic setting.
Kate’s teeth ground together.
She wanted to kick the other girls. Hard.
She’d worked so hard to stabilize Lyka’s mood after the last incident, when soone (AHEM, Janine) thought it would be a good idea to show her the forums. And now? Now they’d gone and pointed out those two over there.
Those two.
Kate could feel the migraine forming.
And if her family didn’t still owe the Vela family a mountain of debt, she might’ve just let Lyka spiral into the void of her own delusions. Full throttle. No brakes.
When they were younger, hearing Lyka talk about her "life plan" was cute. Dedicated. A little unhinged, but passable.
She’d go on about her fiancé, how she was destined to marry Lord Kyle Nox, how it was all part of the great marriage web spun by noble society. And back then, Kate didn’t question it.
Then she t Lord Kyle Nox.
At one of those gatherings.
And realized, with the chill of reality crawling up her spine, that Lyka was just a candidate—one of many. And clearly not the chosen one. Because they didn’t even know each other personally.
But Kate couldn’t say anything. Her mother had just given her a look and whispered, "Just let her be. It’s normal. Girls in arranged engagents cling to the hope. She’s not hurting anyone. And usually those people who think like that do so because they’re confident in landing the agreent."
Right.
Right.
Except now, she was absolutely hurting herself.
Over the years, Kate had just...indulged her because Lyka was decent. Harmless. As long as you didn’t ntion K-Y-L-E.
Because just like a bomb-sniffing beast, Lyka would snap at the ntion of his na. Her ears twitched like a feral creature. Her eyes dilated.
But things had gotten worse lately.
To the point where Kate had to actively stop her friend from committing minor cris out of desperation.
Because even the blind could see it.
Lord Kyle Nox wasn’t just taken—he was emotionally, spiritually, and quite possibly biologically invested in one Ollie Mylor.
If he were a beast, that chanic would’ve been marked. Body fluids and all. And not even the dumbest noble daughter could pretend that wasn’t a ssage.
The signs were everywhere.
The problem?
Lyka refused to see them.
And Kate? Kate had no energy left to shake sense into her. Because who could argue when this was how those two studied?
Who studies like that?
Who lives like that?!
Apparently, they did.
And the forums weren’t short of opinions about their unusual study habits.
[If studying ca with cuddles like that, I wouldn’t even mind exam week.]
[Ha! You could, there isn’t a shortage of people who would eagerly do that, you know?!]
[Speak for yourself. If soone non-inspirational tried that on , I’d file for harassnt.]
[Is Jackson Taylor still single?! Asking for a friend. .]
[Upstairs comnter, get in line. No, literally. There’s a form.]
Kate didn’t even need to scroll. The threads were endless. Entire digital libraries were dedicated to this chaos.
She almost—almost—felt bad for Lyka.
But pity could only go so far when soone chose to live in a fantasy with their eyes glued shut and their hands over their ears.
So when Lyka stood up with that all-too-familiar spark of righteous delusion in her eyes, Kate nearly lunged to yank her back down. But fate—rciful, divine, and wearing the uniform of Instructor Moore—intervened just in ti, stepping between her and disaster before she could march over and demand whatever deranged answer her imagination had cooked up.
But what do you know? It wasn’t just Lyka who was saved by the arrival of a saint.
Because, in a stroke of cosmic irony, two overly eager learners—who had apparently forgotten they’d disabled their privacy settings for group study—also forgot what exactly they’d been studying earlier.
So when their terminals opened, two souls nearly launched out of their bodies in sheer, blistering embarrassnt.
Well, technically, only one reacted on ti, as the other had an undeniable delay.
Because Luca had not been made aware that searching for your husband’s thirst traps and saving them weren’t exactly the norm, and only realized there was an issue when his good brother almost combusted on the spot.
However, he wasn’t alone. Because how was Ollie supposed to maintain even a shred of dignity when he’d just been caught compiling "research materials" on his not-quite-boyfriend-but absolutely, undeniably, not his brother?
"..."
"..."
The privacy setting was proximity-based. But even then, Ollie, eyes wide and face on fire, imdiately wanted to change his na, delete his existence, and relocate to a different galaxy. Maybe even a different dinsion.
Because there, in full glorious resolution, was his terminal—projecting the products of their earlier research: a suspiciously curated collection of soone’s face, soone’s torso (usually mid-training with shirt artistically hiked up), and the most random clips of said soone blinking, stretching, and—dear stars—smiling.
And while this level of dedication might have been acceptable in literally any other circumstance...
The problem was: said soone was currently right behind him.
And looking directly at the holographic screen.
With a very polite but very pointed, "...Is that ?" expression.
Ollie shrieked internally.
Then externally.
And sowhere in the chaos, Ollie’s spiritual energy tried to escape his body, probably out of self-preservation. It was ready to ascend, leave his mortal form, and file for emotional damage.
Because by then, two people were experiencing full-blown internal crises.
Luca, eyes wide and mind whirring, had clearly inferred what was going on.
And just as Xavier—equal parts curious and amused—opened his mouth to ask his beloved wife about this extensive new hobby of his...
"Ah! Cadet Kyros!"
Instructor Moore arrived with perfect codic timing, practically bouncing over like the world’s happiest academic.
"Do you have ti today?" he asked brightly. "I’ve been hoping to consult you about the cha calibration techniques that you used last session."
The "Yes" ca so fast that Moore blinked.
"Oh. That was...enthusiastic."
But what surprised him more was when Ollie Mylor—actual student, current puddle of mortification, future ghost—suddenly sprang to life.
"I—I’d like to co too, Instructor!" Ollie blurted. "To revise! Deeply! I might glean...important...technical...wisdom."
Every ancestor he’d ever heard of was being summoned in prayer. If Instructor Moore said no, Ollie swore he’d perish on the spot. His soul was already halfway packed.
Luckily, the heavens—or more accurately, Luca—intervened.
His good brother nodded seriously. "I think it’ll benefit him, Sir. He’s been...deeply engaged in recent cha studies."
That was one way to put it.
Their eyes—Luca’s glowing, Ollie’s desperate—pleaded silently with the unassuming instructor.
"Well," Moore chuckled, scratching his cheek, "I suppose the more the rrier."
Saved.
The mont the instructor turned, the two bolted after him like their backsides were on fire.
But just before they fully escaped, Kyle reached out and caught Ollie’s arm.
"Hey—" he said, calm but pointed.
Ollie froze.
Kyle leaned in with that crooked and seriously amused smile. "Don’t forget to change your privacy settings for the consultation."
Ollie whimpered.
Then ran faster.
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