The afternoon sun spilled golden light across the marble courtyard of Skylar Academy, catching on the delicate fountains and ivy-covered walls. Arya stood with her books pressed to her chest, her platinum-blonde hair shimmering like silver in the glow. She had just finished her etiquette lecture when Emelia appeared, all smiles and sweetness that Arya instinctively knew carried something sharp underneath.
" Arya!" Emelia's voice rang like a bell, her steps graceful but calculated as she approached. "I was hoping to find you."
Arya tilted her head slightly. Emelia rarely spoke to her unless necessary, and when she did, it was often with the kind of politeness dipped in envy. Still, Arya responded kindly. "You found me. What is it?"
Emelia linked her arm through Arya's before Arya could protest, pulling her closer. "It's about Prince Ryu."
At the mention of his name, Arya's heart skipped. She masked it with a calm expression, though. "What about him?"
Emelia's eyes glittered, but her smile was soft, calculated to look harmless. "You're close to him, aren't you? He seems to… trust you."
Arya stiffened slightly. She knew how the Crown Prince treated her—with an ease he rarely showed others, as though her presence alone softened the weight of his royal title. "We're roommates," she replied carefully.
"Exactly," Emelia said quickly. "That's why I need your help. You see…" She glanced around, lowering her voice like she was about to share a precious secret. "I've admired Ryu for so long. His composure, his strength… the way he carries himself. But he never notices me. Not once." Her lips pressed together in frustration before she smoothed it back into a pout.
Arya's chest tightened. She knew what Emelia was asking before the words even came.
"I was hoping you could… speak to him for me. Drop my name into your conversations. Tell him how much I care. Help him see me, Arya." Emelia's grip on her arm tightened, her eyes shining with a strange mixture of pleading and determination. "If you truly consider yourself a friend, you'd help me."
Arya hesitated. Something inside her recoiled—an instinct whispering that Emelia wasn't asking, she was using her. Ryu wasn't a prize to be handed from one girl to another, and yet the pressure of Emelia's words made her throat dry.
"I don't think—" Arya began.
But Emelia cut her off smoothly. "You're not interested in him, are you? You're too… reserved, too focused on your books and duties. He's not your type. That makes you the perfect person to help me." Her smile deepened, triumphant as though she'd cornered Arya.
Arya forced a smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "I'll… think about it."
"Good," Emelia said, satisfied, finally letting her go. "Think quickly. He'll be at the fencing hall tomorrow. That would be the perfect chance."
As Emelia walked away, Arya stood frozen, her heart caught between anger and unease. She didn't know what disturbed her more—that Emelia was trying to use her… or that the thought of Ryu's attention shifting to someone else made her chest ache in ways she wasn't ready to admit.
The sound of steel clashing echoed through the grand fencing hall. Sunlight streamed in through tall stained-glass windows, scattering colors across the polished floor. Students lined the edges, whispering as they watched the duel in the center—Ryu, the Crown Prince, effortlessly dismantling his opponent with the precision of a born warrior.
Arya lingered at the doorway, her books clutched to her chest. Her pulse quickened at the sight of him—his white hair catching the light, his calm face betraying none of the effort behind his strikes. He moved like a storm in control of itself.
When the match ended, the hall erupted in applause. Ryu removed his helmet, his gaze scanning the crowd until it landed on Arya. His expression softened instantly. Without hesitation, he strode toward her.
"You came." His voice was low, meant only for her.
Arya's breath caught. She hadn't meant to meet him today, not like this—not with Emelia's words weighing on her like a chain. She forced a smile. "I was passing by."
Ryu studied her with those sharp silver eyes that always seemed to see too much. "No," he said quietly. "You came for a reason."
Arya faltered. She remembered Emelia's plea—help him see me. The memory twisted inside her. She opened her mouth, but the words refused to come. How could she bring herself to speak another girl's name when her own heart screamed against it?
"I…" Her fingers tightened on her books. "You were impressive."
Ryu's lips curved faintly, but his gaze didn't soften this time. "That's not what you wanted to say."
Arya looked away, heat rising in her cheeks. The room seemed smaller with everyone else watching, though none dared approach the Crown Prince. "It's nothing."
Ryu stepped closer, close enough that his presence alone made her heart stumble. His voice dropped. "Someone put you up to this."
Arya's eyes widened, meeting his. "How—"
"I know when you're being yourself, Arya." His gaze softened now, the storm gentling for her alone. "And when you're not."
Her throat tightened. She wanted to tell him everything—that Emelia had asked her to use their bond, that she didn't want to lose his gaze, his warmth, his quiet trust. But the words locked inside her chest.
Instead, she whispered, "I don't want to be used."
Ryu's expression sharpened, not at her, but at the unspoken name behind her words. His hand brushed lightly against hers—a fleeting touch, but it steadied her like an anchor.
"Then don't," he murmured. "You don't owe anyone that."
For a moment, the hall, the whispers, the entire academy seemed to fade. It was just them—her unspoken feelings, and his unwavering gaze.
Arya swallowed, her heart trembling. She hadn't spoken Emelia's name, but somehow, she felt Ryu already knew.
And in that silence, Arya realized something dangerous and undeniable—she wasn't just protecting herself from being used. She was protecting something far more fragile… her growing feelings for the prince.