INT — SSC PRESIDENT'S OFFICE
Fire's footsteps echoed down the hallway—first sharp, then fading, like a badly timed drumline trying to outrun its own beat.
Ice remained frozen in place for a full second, staring at the door she had just swung open.
She didn't even give him time to speak.
One of the things he always claimed to want was a life without Fire's constant, unsolicited chatter.
And now—apparently—he was getting exactly that.
The documents hit the floor with a sharp thwap, far too loud for such thin sheets of paper. Ice didn't move. He simply watched them scatter across the carpet like fallen feathers—messy, chaotic, irritatingly symbolic.
Then the culprit bolted.
The outer door slammed, the sound echoing through both his office and his patience. Fire didn't even hesitate. Didn't wait. Didn't look back.
Of course she didn't.
He exhaled, long and tight, and only then noticed the papers scattered across the carpet in a messy, humiliating fan. Tomorrow's documents. Forms he needed to sign. Receipts. Lists. Once perfectly organized.
"That brat," he muttered, jaw tensing.
He crouched to collect the papers, shuffling them into a pile with mechanical precision. Outside, he heard the faint gasp of the council members who had witnessed Fire's grand exit.
"Oh gosh… I hope she won't get kicked out…"
"She really did it this time…"
Ice shut his eyes briefly.
If only they knew the real disaster wasn't the papers.
It was the way she kept running from him.
He stood, papers in hand, and pushed the office door closed with a force loud enough to make the hallway fall silent again.
A clear warning: Do not come in. Do not bother me.
He placed the documents on his desk—but his gaze snapped immediately to the paper bag on the side.
Her paper bag.
Her lunch box.
He didn't even need to open it. He already knew what was inside.
Four days.
Four days of leaving food for someone who wouldn't look at him.
His fingertips curled.
Why did he keep doing this?
The sunlit office, the towering cabinet of records, the mess of posters and memos—all of it blurred out of his focus. His world narrowed only to that stupid paper bag.
Before he could think, he grabbed it.
The handles felt rough, almost resisting him. Mocking him.
His footsteps—heavy, clipped—filled the silent room as he strode toward the door.
EXT — UNIVERSITY GROUNDS
The school garden was calm and open, with a few wooden benches and tables set up for lunch breaks. Bright sunlight warmed the space, but the crisp breeze kept the air cool and refreshing. Soft green grass stretched across the ground, dotted with blooming flowers that added quiet color to the scene. It was the kind of place where voices naturally softened and thoughts slowed, even in the middle of a busy school day.
Oriel stared down at her boots as they tapped softly against the stone pavement, their rhythm unsteady like her heartbeat.
The green grass hugging the pavement was glowing with the sunlight, yet her heart felt more suffocated.
Her breath curled in the cold afternoon air, and something in her chest tightened. She froze mid-step, eyes fixed on a distant lamppost—as if the empty space beside it was holding a memory she wasn't ready to face. Or a person she wasn't ready to feel for.
Will she come back? She questioned.
Dhylan followed a few steps behind, watching her with quiet concern. His hands were in his jacket pockets, but his eyes never left her back.
He didn't ask. He didn't need to.
He already knew who her heart still chased.
Azure.
Azure, who left her.
And the reason?
Dhylan's own stupidity. His own cowardice.
He stopped walking, the cold wind slicing across his face. He zipped his jacket higher and fixed his gaze on her silhouette—small, lonely, fighting not to fall apart.
She turned to him, a forced smile. He knows she didn't want him to worry, something he knew he didn't deserve.
"It was my fault," he whispered, breath barely forming in the night air.
Oriel had never once demanded the reason he and Azure broke up. Never pried. Never asked why the two of them had suddenly ruptured like a fault line.
For a long time, Dhylan was grateful for that.
Grateful she didn't know how much of it was on him.
But lately, the secret had become a slow poison.
Rotting inside his ribs.
Gnawing at him every time she looked away quickly to hide her sadness.
He wanted to tell her—wanted to tear the words out of himself and hand them over.
But if the truth would hurt her…
If it would break what little peace she had left…
He would rather let the guilt consume him whole.
Still, watching her now, swallowing back the hurt. It didn't feel any easier.
Her small, fragile figure stood before him. Her short hair was slowly growing back into long strands; no matter the length, She never failed to captivate him.
How could he tell her?
It was never Azure's fault.
It had always been his.
Next Chapter:
Fire's plan was simple:
Avoid Ice.
Enjoy trip.
Eat food.
…Until Ice appeared outside the glass like the final boss of her emotional life.
This school trip just leveled up.