Nestled in the western heart of Amarias, the prestigious West College of Arts and Music stood like a proud sentinel of culture and creativity.
Amarias itself was no ordinary land. Spanning 5,645,026 km²—a little smaller than Australia, yet tucked away in the northern hemisphere—it was a place draped in mystery.
Rumors thrived here like weeds in a forgotten garden. Tales so old and twisted that even seasoned historians questioned what was true.
Despite its isolation, Amarias drew tourists like moths to a flame. Four magnificent castles crowned its districts—North, West, East, and South—like jewels in a crooked crown. Visitors came for the beauty, for the legends… and left whispering about ghosts.
Some said the first inhabitants never left, that their souls lingered—sometimes wearing new bodies, sometimes formless shadows haunting familiar grounds.
To the rest of the world, Amarias was the land of ghosts.
And maybe that wasn't entirely wrong.
Foreign theorists whispered that the land was cursed, which explained why outsiders could only visit on holidays and why permanent immigration was forbidden. People feared what might spread if the walls of Amarias were torn down.
Those born here? They stayed. Always. Growing up under skies heavy with folklore, resentment, and longing. Living in a place where the past refused to die.
"So, you had a dream where someone with a gorgeous face saved you from someone with an equally gorgeous face?" Warrin chuckled, making Summer's nightmare sound like a soap opera.
"Can you not reduce my traumatic experience to a beauty contest?" Summer groaned, pacing across Warrin's room like a storm cloud ready to burst.
Liam, lounging on the bed, shrugged. "What context are we even talking about, bruh? It was just a dream."
"Nightmare, Liam. And nightmares aren't just—"
"They're common." He cut her off with another shrug.
"No, they're not. Not here. Not in Amarias." Summer's tone sharpened like a blade. She stopped pacing and jabbed a finger toward the floor. "What if it's a sign?"
"A sign of what? That you need less late-night reading and more sleep?" Liam deadpanned.
"Not everything's a myth, Liam." This time Warrin spoke, quietly, adjusting his shirt and keeping his eyes fixed on the mirror.
The silence that followed was heavy—until Summer and Liam looked at him… and burst into laughter.
"Oh, please," Summer snorted, tossing a pillow at Warrin, who caught it effortlessly.
Before the argument could escalate, Warrin's mom popped her head through the door. "Kids, breakfast is ready!"
Breakfast, apparently, meant enough food to feed a small army. Warrin's mom was a kitchen goddess with a flair for excess.
"Is there a party?" Warrin asked, smoothing his bangs as Summer hopped onto the kitchen counter, flashing a bright smile at his mom.
The three of them—Warrin, Summer, and Liam—had been inseparable since college began. WLS, people called them, because apparently acronyms made everything cooler.
Summer grinned as Warrin's mom fussed over her. The woman had adored her since high school. Liam sat beside her, his tall frame making the kitchen island look tiny. For a guy who looked intimidating with his sharp jaw and deep voice, he had the personality of a lazy golden retriever.
"Summer, how are classes going? Final semester already!" Warrin's mom clapped her hands like an excited seal.
"Mom—" Warrin groaned.
"Mommy, classes are great!" Summer jumped in, grinning. "I'm actually excited about exams. Might even have to write a thesis!"
"Yeah," Liam muttered with a smirk. "Excited enough to dream about fairy tales."
Warrin snorted into his orange juice. Summer glared, grabbing a piece of toast like it was a weapon.
It was all laughter and teasing until Warrin's mom casually glanced at the clock. "It's 9:45. Aren't you late?"
The world froze for three terrifying seconds. Then chaos erupted.
"We're going to miss the bus!" Summer yelled, bolting for the door with a half-chewed sandwich.
"We came on a bike, Summer," Liam called after her.
"What about me?" Warrin demanded, already sprinting toward the garage.
Two bikes roared to life moments later, and then they were flying through icy streets, wind cutting like a thousand tiny knives. Summer clung to Liam like her life depended on it.
By the time they screeched into the college parking lot, it was almost 10. Breathless, hair wind-tossed, they charged into the building like fugitives on the run.
The halls were empty—everyone was already in class. Which meant their late entrance was going to be glorious.
"I swear, third-floor classes are the worst," Warrin panted as they took the stairs two at a time.
And that was when Summer saw him.
Standing beside the dean was a man she had never seen before—tall, sharp-featured, wearing a brown coat over a white shirt, with an air of quiet confidence that made heads turn without trying.
Not as tall as Liam, but… something about him.
Summer's breath hitched for half a second before she forced her eyes away.
Too late. His gaze caught hers. Steel-gray eyes that pinned her in place for one agonizing heartbeat.
She hated the way her stomach flipped. Absolutely hated it.
By the time they stumbled into class, ready to beg forgiveness from Miss Nada, the dean walked in—with him.
"This is Mars," the dean announced warmly. "He'll be filling in for Miss Nada, who's unwell."
A collective gasp rippled through the room. Miss Nada—Summer's favorite professor, her anchor—hospitalized? Summer barely processed the words because the next thing she knew, he was speaking.
"Hi, I'm Mars. Looking forward to working with all of you."
It was a standard introduction. But when his eyes swept the room and landed on her—when that faint smirk tugged at his lips—Summer's entire being screamed: Nope. Not dealing with this.
If she could have flung herself out the third-floor window, she would have.
The girls around her were already swooning, whispering about his looks and his voice. Meanwhile, Summer sat there plotting a hundred ways to erase that smirk from existence.
Her fists curled under the desk. Four months with this guy? Great. Just great.
When the class finally ended, she bolted. Warrin and Liam scrambled after her.
She told herself the irritation was because Mars replaced Miss Nada. Not because of the way he looked at her. Absolutely not.
Still, his last words lingered in her ears long after he left the library later that day:"I hope to see you around more often."
Summer shook her head violently, trying to shove the memory away as she stared at the pages of her book.
Her mind drifted back to the nightmare. The faces. The cold dread.
And the whisper that still clung to her bones.
"No," she whispered to herself, gripping the book tighter. "I hope not."