The night was unusually quiet, almost too quiet for a university that thrived on chaos and secrets. Ashira stood on the rooftop of the main building, her disguise intact—short hair tucked under her cap, loose uniform shirt half-buttoned like every other boy here. But her eyes, sharp and searching, betrayed her calm exterior.
The wind blew strong, carrying the scent of gunpowder faintly from the east wing. She could already tell someone had fired a warning shot. Another gang feud brewing. Another mess to clean up.
"Why do I always get stuck playing babysitter to a criminal kindergarten?" she muttered, rolling her eyes.
"Because you look like one of us," a deep voice teased from behind.
Ashira spun, her blade flashing to her palm instinctively. The moonlight caught Alden's smirk—calm, dangerous, infuriatingly composed. His silver eyes glowed like they carried secrets only he could afford to keep.
"Relax, princesa," he said, hands raised mockingly. "Not every shadow on this rooftop is your enemy."
"You're half right," she shot back, not lowering her blade. "The other half is worse—you."
Alden chuckled, stepping closer with the kind of confidence that set every nerve in her body on fire. He didn't stop until he was standing far too close, the space between them filled with unspoken tension.
"Careful," he murmured, leaning in. "If you keep looking at me like that, people might think you've forgotten you're a boy."
Ashira shoved him back with a glare, though her pulse betrayed her. "People might think you're desperate if you keep hovering around me."
Before Alden could respond, a crash echoed from below—shattering glass, followed by muffled yells. Ashira's instincts sharpened. She bolted for the ledge, scanning the quad below.
Three masked intruders had breached the east courtyard, carrying black duffel bags. Their movements were too coordinated to be regular students.
"Not again…" Ashira muttered, already calculating her descent.
"Wait," Alden said, grabbing her wrist. His touch was firm, almost commanding. "You don't know who they're working for. Rushing in blind will get you killed."
She yanked her wrist free. "And sitting around debating it will get everyone else killed. Stay out of my way, Alden."
And with that, she vaulted off the rooftop.
Her body landed with a soft roll on the grass below, startling one of the masked men. He raised his gun, but before he could fire, Ashira's dagger sliced through the air, knocking the weapon clean from his hand.
"Playtime's over," she said, voice low and mocking.
The second intruder charged at her with a blade. She sidestepped effortlessly, elbowing him in the ribs before slamming his head against the courtyard bench. The third one tried to retreat, but Ashira was already there, cutting off his path with a grin that didn't reach her eyes.
"You walk in here with guns," she said, blade tracing his throat lightly, "and you think you're walking out alive?"
The man froze, trembling. But before she could interrogate him, a gunshot whizzed past her ear.
Ashira spun to see someone else had joined the fight—a tall figure in a professor's coat, face shadowed by the dim courtyard lights. His aim had been precise, the shot deliberately missing her by inches.
Her chest tightened. That presence… it felt different. Dangerous.
The professor's voice carried across the courtyard, cold and commanding.
"Enough."
The intruders instantly straightened, like soldiers under orders. Ashira's eyes narrowed. They weren't random invaders. They were following him.
But before she could step closer, Alden appeared at her side, blocking her view slightly. "Not tonight," he whispered urgently. His grip on her shoulder was ironclad.
The mysterious professor gave a faint smirk, then signaled his men. In seconds, they vanished into the shadows, leaving Ashira seething in frustration.
She shoved Alden away. "Why did you stop me? I could've—"
"You could've gotten yourself killed," Alden cut in sharply, his usual coolness edged with something raw. His silver eyes locked onto hers. "You don't even know who you're dealing with yet. That man isn't just a teacher… he's something far more dangerous."
Ashira's lips parted, but no words came out. Her instincts screamed at her to chase, to uncover the truth. But for once, she hesitated.
The rooftop wind howled again, carrying with it the weight of new enemies, hidden allegiances, and the unmistakable realization: her mission inside this criminal university had just gotten far more complicated.
And someone—someone wearing a professor's mask—was watching her every move.
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