Rumors spread faster than magic at the Imperial Academy.
They slipped through hallways, clung to stone walls, and whispered themselves into existence between classes and candlelit dinners. By the morning after the assessment, Aria Noctis had become the academy's favorite subject.
Not because she failed.
But because she didn't.
"She overshadowed the Saintess candidate."
"She didn't even look strained."
"That kind of control at her age is unnatural."
Aria listened as she walked.
She always did.
Students parted instinctively when she passed, conversations dying mid-sentence. Some gazes were wary. Others curious. A few openly admiring.
And more than a handful… heated.
She felt them linger on her back, her hips, the exposed line of her throat. Desire wasn't subtle anymore. It clung to the air, thick and warm.
[Passive Effect Intensified: Aura of Temptation (Medium)]
Aria exhaled softly.
The system was escalating faster than expected.
She entered the academy's inner courtyard, where a marble fountain trickled softly. Seraphina stood there, speaking with two noble girls, her expression gentle as always.
Light surrounded her.
Comforting. Safe.
Aria paused at the edge of the courtyard—not hiding, not intruding. Simply existing.
Seraphina noticed her almost immediately.
Their eyes met.
For a heartbeat, neither moved.
Then Seraphina excused herself and approached.
"Lady Noctis," she said, offering a polite nod. "May I speak with you?"
Aria tilted her head. "Of course."
They walked a short distance away, far enough that voices couldn't easily reach—but close enough to remain visible.
"I wanted to thank you," Seraphina said. "For yesterday. You didn't humiliate me."
Aria's lips curved faintly. "That wasn't my intention."
Seraphina hesitated, fingers twisting together. "People are saying… things."
"People always do."
"They're comparing us," Seraphina admitted quietly. "I don't want hostility between us."
Ah.
So the heroine seeks harmony.
In the original story, this was where Aria would snap. Say something sharp. Prove herself cruel.
Aria studied her instead.
Seraphina wasn't fake. She wasn't manipulating—not consciously. She truly wanted peace.
Which made her dangerous in a different way.
"I have no interest in being your enemy," Aria said calmly. "Or your friend, for that matter."
Seraphina blinked. "Oh."
"That said," Aria continued, voice smooth, "if the world insists on comparing us… that isn't something either of us controls."
Seraphina looked down, then nodded slowly. "I understand."
Aria turned to leave
And nearly collided with a solid chest.
Strong hands caught her by the waist instinctively.
The contact was sudden. Intimate.
Too intimate.
Aria looked up.
Sir Kaelen Vale froze.
His hands were on her.
Her warmth seeped through his gloves instantly, flooding his senses. Her scent—subtle, dark, intoxicating wrapped around him before he could think.
"I " He pulled back abruptly. "Forgive me, my lady."
Aria's heart skipped—not from fear, but awareness.
She could feel it.
His restraint.
His struggle.
Her gaze flicked to his hands, then back to his face. "Are you always so quick to catch falling women, Sir Kaelen?"
The question was light.
The implication was not.
Kaelen swallowed. "It is my duty."
"Is it?" she asked softly.
Their eyes locked.
Something twisted low in his chest—something that had no place in duty or honor.
[Possessive Instinct Detected: Kaelen Vale]
Status: Suppressed (Unstable)
Lucien arrived just in time to see it.
Aria stepping back.
Kaelen's hands retreating.
Seraphina standing nearby.
His expression darkened.
"What's going on?" the crown prince asked.
"An accident," Kaelen said immediately.
Aria smiled faintly. "Nothing worth concern."
Lucien didn't believe her.
That night, the rumors changed.
Not about power.
About attention.
About who lingered where.
About who looked at whom.
And who didn't look away.
The invitation arrived after dinner.
Unmarked. Delivered personally.
Meet me in the east wing. Midnight.
No signature.
She didn't need one.
Aria stood before the mirror, fastening the final clasp of her dress. It was darker than usual—deep wine, soft fabric that clung to her curves without apology.
She didn't dress for him.
She dressed for herself.
The east wing was quiet at night, torches dimmed, footsteps echoing faintly. She found him waiting near a tall arched window.
Lucien.
He turned as she approached, eyes sharp.
"You came," he said.
"You summoned me," Aria replied calmly.
"That's usually how it works."
His jaw tightened. "You're enjoying this."
"Enjoying what?"
"Watching them circle you," he said. "Kaelen. Thorn. Even others."
Aria stepped closer, unafraid. "Is that why you called me here?"
Lucien's gaze dropped—just briefly—to her lips.
"No," he said. "I called you because I don't understand you anymore."
She stopped a step away.
"That sounds like a personal problem."
He laughed softly, humorless. "You changed."
"Yes."
"When?"
She met his eyes. "When I stopped waiting for permission."
Silence stretched between them, heavy.
Lucien reached out—hesitated—then brushed his thumb against her wrist.
The contact sent a shiver through her nerves. Not desire alone, but memory. The past. The execution hall. His cold eyes.
She didn't pull away.
But she didn't lean in either.
"You look at me like you're deciding something," he murmured.
"I am," Aria replied.
"And what have you decided?"
She leaned in just enough that her breath brushed his cheek.
"That you don't get to decide what I am anymore."
His hand tightened reflexively.
[Desire Spike: Extreme]
For a moment, it felt like he might pull her into him.
Claim her.
Instead, she stepped back.
"Goodnight, Your Highness."
She left him standing there—breathing hard, control fraying.
Later that night, Aria returned to her chambers.
The system appeared, its glow brighter than before.
[Milestone Reached:]
Possessive Trigger Activated]
Warning: Emotional Dependency Increasing
Recommendation: Choose Primary Anchor Soon
Aria sat on the edge of her bed, thoughtful.
Primary anchor.
One man would eventually tip from desire into obsession.
And obsession…
Was irreversible.
She lay back slowly, staring at the ceiling.
"Soon," she whispered.
Outside, in different wings of the academy, three men lay awake
Each convinced the same dangerous thought.
She belongs here.
She belongs with me.
And none of them realized yet
She belonged to no one.