Keal didn't want problems. He had no desire to create a spectacle in front of the nobles, yet Zack's constant pushing gnawed at him like a blade against stone. The smirk, the nudges, the deliberate provocation — it was all designed to test his patience.
July, sensing the storm beneath his calm exterior, carefully raised her head. Her golden hair shimmered under the chandelier light, her voice soft but trembling as she broke the silence. "Are you… angry?"
Keal's crimson eyes flickered, narrowing slightly. His reply was measured, calm, almost detached. "No. Just thought about something."
July blinked, her lips parting in relief. "Oh," she whispered, her tone carrying both nervousness and curiosity.
July's soft "Oh…" hung in the air like a fragile thread, barely audible over the muted hum of the hall. Her cheeks were still flushed, her golden eyes uncertain, yet she did not look away this time.
Keal's gaze lingered on her, calm but edged with irritation that Zack had forced this encounter. He didn't want trouble, but Zack's smirk in the corner gnawed at him, each sip of wine a silent provocation.
July shifted her weight, fingers brushing the folds of her gown. She drew a careful breath, her voice trembling but determined. "I… I only wanted to know you. Not the whispers, not the rumors. Just you."
Keal tilted his head slightly, his crimson eyes narrowing. His reply was measured, deliberate. "Whispers are safer. Rumors are easier. Knowing me is neither."
The nobles nearby leaned closer, their curiosity sharpening. Zack chuckled from his seat, his grin widening as if he had orchestrated this exact moment.
July's lips parted, her voice softer now. "Then… let me decide if it's worth it."
Keal's expression hardened, though his tone remained calm. "Decisions carry weight, July Wes. Be certain you can bear it."
The silence that followed was heavy, pressing down on the hall. Zack's smirk gleamed brighter, satisfied. July's golden eyes shimmered, caught between fear and resolve.
Keal had parted ways from July, his irritation with Zack simmering beneath the surface. He moved to one of the long tables, lifting a drink to his lips in an attempt to steady himself.
Then, suddenly, a woman bumped into him — green-haired, flushed, her steps uneven. Her chest pressed forward as she stumbled, and though she seemed drunk, Keal felt a strange familiarity in her face.
"Hi… have I seen you before?" he asked, his voice curious, cautious.
She waved her hand dismissively, feigning drunkenness. "No, no… I'm an instructor."
Keal's eyes narrowed. Instructor? He was certain he had seen her before. Not just a passing face — something deeper, something tied to memory. Was he mistaken?
He turned back to the table, dropped his drink, and picked up a grape instead. "Why? Are you drunk?" he asked flatly.
She sighed, her voice heavy. "Oh… my life is a mess."
Keal didn't want trouble. He simply replied, "Ok then," and let the silence settle.
But silence didn't last. He noticed her staring at him — not casually, but intently, almost piercing. It was annoying, impossible to ignore. He turned, ready to break the silence himself, but she spoke first.
Her words cut through the air, direct and unfiltered: "You're that boy the girls are talking about, right?"
The hall seemed to hush around them, though no one else was listening.
Keal tilted his head, his voice calm, measured, almost slow. "…Talking about me… in what way?"
She smirked faintly, though her eyes betrayed exhaustion. "They say you're… different. Not like the others." she then look at him with drunk eyes and said while wispering "And thet you re handsome which i can see that it is true"
Keal's jaw tightened. He didn't want trouble, but the word lingered. Different and handsome. It was softer than the rumors he'd heard before, yet it carried weight.
He turned slightly, picking another grape, letting the silence stretch before answering. "Different is what people call you when they don't understand. And most don't."
Keal's face remained calm, though his crimson eyes betrayed the irritation beneath.
The green‑haired woman tilted her head, her lips curling into a faint smile. "Seriously… what with the serious face?" she teased, her voice slurred but oddly deliberate.
She reached for the drink in his hand, plucked it away without hesitation, and raised it to her lips. "By the way… my name is Lira."
Keal's crimson eyes narrowed, his tone calm but clipped. "I am Keal."
"Oh," she replied simply, before tipping the drink into her mouth.
The silence stretched, broken only by the faint music drifting through the banquet hall. Then Lira began to speak.
At first it was idle chatter — about the academy, about her students, about her life unraveling into a mess. But the words didn't stop. They spilled one after another, tumbling over themselves, filling the air with a drunken rhythm that seemed endless.
Minutes passed. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty.
Keal sat in silence, his irritation growing with each passing moment. He didn't want trouble. He didn't want attention. So he suppressed his anger the only way he could — with drink after drink, drowning her endless talk in the bitter taste of wine.
Her voice blurred. The hall dimmed. The chandeliers seemed to sway.
Keal's head grew heavy. His vision clouded.
And then — silence.
Keal's eyes opened slowly, the fog of drink still clinging to his mind. The banquet was gone. The chandeliers, the nobles, the music — all vanished.
He was in a dorm. The walls were rough, the lantern light dim, shadows stretching long across the room.
As he sat up, his breath caught. Instructor Lira was not beside him. She was on the floor, her face pressed against the edge of the bed, her body curled awkwardly as if she had collapsed there.
Confusion rippled through Keal. Why here? Why her? His crimson eyes narrowed, his voice low, almost to himself. "This… doesn't make sense."
Lira stirred faintly, her hand twitching against the floorboards. Her breathing was uneven, her presence unsettling.
Keal rose to his feet, steadying himself against the wall. His mind raced — fragments of memory, her endless talking, the drinks, the blur. None explained why he had woken in this place, or why she lay there now.
The silence was heavy, pressing down on him. He didn't want trouble, but trouble had found him anyway.
Keal steadied himself as he rose from the bed, his mind still clouded with confusion. The dorm was quiet, shadows stretching across the rough walls. He had decided to leave — to step away from the unanswered questions pressing against him.
But just as he moved toward the door, a sudden voice shattered the silence.
"Keal!"
Instructor Lira had stirred awake, her eyes wide with shock as she pushed herself up from the floor. Her voice was sharp, almost panicked, echoing through the small room.
Keal froze, his crimson eyes narrowing. He turned slowly, his tone calm but edged with suspicion. "…You're awake."
Lira's breathing was uneven, her gaze locked on him as if she had seen something she couldn't believe. Her lips trembled before she spoke again, softer this time. "Why… why are you here?"
The question hung heavy in the air. Keal's jaw tightened. He didn't have an answer — not one that made sense.