The following morning, the class buzzed with chatter as though nothing unusual had happened yesterday. For most, Takumi's nosebleed and the senior's intrusion had already slipped into rumor, half-remembered gossip.
Takumi sat in silence, flipping pages of a dark-covered book. He read, but his eyes barely moved; the words were distant, drowned by thoughts.
At the front, Noelle entered and for once ignored the crowd that usually swarmed her. She made her way straight to her seat, her presence radiating a quiet dignity that surprised even herself.
Her gaze flickered sideways. Takumi, as always, acted as if she didn't exist. But she remembered the softness in his eyes yesterday—the brief pause when the world seemed to stop.
"Takumi," she said softly, leaning just a little toward him.
He didn't look up. "What?"
"…Why literature?"
Takumi finally turned, his expression calm but unreadable. "Why not?"
"That's not an answer."
"Then maybe I don't owe you one."
Her lips pressed together. Why does he talk like that… like he's shielding himself?
From the back of the class, Rhea smirked at the exchange. "Oh, so the angel found a thorn."
Noelle shot her a glare, cheeks tinged faintly red. Takumi only sighed, flipping another page.
The bell rang. Another ordinary day began.
But beneath the calm, ripples stirred.