The morning bells tolled mercilessly, shaking the academy awake. Arya groaned into her pillow. Her body still ached from too much laughter, too much pizza, and Elijah dragging her into that ridiculous orphanage dance. Fun, yes—but now she felt like her bones were filled with sand.
In the boys' dorm wing, Xavier stumbled into the hallway first, hair sticking up like a bird's nest. "Remind me," he whined, rubbing his eyes, "why pizza tastes better after curfew. Like—why can't destiny serve us good food at legal hours?"
Daven trailed behind him, silent as ever, his sharp eyes half-lidded but alert even through exhaustion. He didn't comment—he rarely did—but the faint shake of his head said this was a mistake.
Ryu stepped out last, perfectly dressed, perfectly composed, not a hair out of place. He looked awake in every sense of the word. Only the faintest smirk tugging at his lips betrayed the fact that he'd been out all night too.
By the time they assembled in the courtyard for roll call, Arya's stomach fluttered nervously. Just act normal. No one has to know.
Unfortunately, Xavier had never learned how to act normal.
"Good morning!" he announced with exaggerated brightness, throwing his arms wide. "What a glorious day for… not moving a single muscle."
Arya elbowed him, hard. "Do you want to get caught?" she hissed.
Ryu's silver gaze flicked to her, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Careful, Arya. Your guilt is showing more than his."
Her face warmed instantly. "I'm not guilty of anything."
"Of course not," he said smoothly, leaning just close enough for his words to brush against her like velvet. "Just… radiant in your sleep deprivation."
Arya nearly tripped over her own feet. Xavier, catching this, coughed loudly to smother his laugh. Daven, ever silent, just looked away, though the corner of his mouth twitched as if he was holding back his own amusement.
And then there was Emelia.
She stood nearby, watching with her usual sweet-but-deadly smile. Arya didn't have to guess—Emelia had noticed something.
---
Later, in class, Arya's stomach betrayed her with a loud growl. She buried her face in her book.
Xavier leaned over, whispering gleefully, "Hungry? Don't worry—I saved a slice under my pillow."
Arya's head snapped up. "You what?!"
Ryu chuckled low, shaking his head. "Don't believe him. If he actually did that, it would have killed him before the professor could."
Daven raised a brow but said nothing, just scribbling in his notebook.
Arya groaned. "You're all impossible."
Xavier grinned like it was a compliment.
---
When class ended, Arya tried to slip away, but Emelia was waiting.
"You look… tired," Emelia said sweetly, tilting her head. "Late-night studying?"
Arya forced a laugh. "Something like that."
Emelia's eyes darted between her, Ryu, Xavier, and Daven. All three boys carried the same shadow of sleeplessness in different ways—Xavier yawning openly, Ryu leaning casually against the wall like a man who owned fatigue, Daven silent and unreadable.
Emelia's smile sharpened. "Strange. All of you… tired at once. What a coincidence."
Arya's chest tightened. "Maybe it is."
Emelia leaned closer, her voice dropping. "Whatever game you're playing, Arya, just know—I'll find out."
She walked away, skirts swishing, leaving Arya frozen in place. And for the first time, Arya realized this wasn't just jealousy. Emelia has always pretended to be nice to her but now showing her through colors.
"Guess all royalties are the same " Arya smiled disappointed to have lost a friend. She racked her brain to see what made cute chubby Emelia act this way.
---
Laughter still echoed in Arya's chest from Xavier's midnight stunt. Even Ryu, composed as he always seemed, had cracked the faintest smile, and Daven—though silent—hadn't left the room, which was proof enough that he didn't mind their antics.
For Arya, it was the first time in years she felt she belonged somewhere.
But not everyone saw it that way.
Across the dorm courtyard, Emelia lingered with a different crowd now—the Ivory Circle. A cluster of noble-born girls, always polished, always whispering. They weren't cruel outright, but they thrived on power plays and appearances. To them, Skylar Academy wasn't just a school—it was a stage.
And to keep her place with them, Emelia had learned to play along.
One of the girls, Seraphine, leaned close, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Your little friend Arya seems rather… comfortable, doesn't she? Dining, laughing, dancing with princes as though she were one of us."
Another, Elinor, smirked. "It's a shame. You were close to her once, weren't you? And now she's eclipsing you entirely. If you don't act, Emelia, you'll just fade into her shadow."
Emelia's chest tightened. She remembered Arya differently—bubbly, giggling, loyal in a way no one else had been. But here, under the Circle's sharp gazes, that memory felt like a weakness.
So she smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. "She's still… Arya. She won't last long here."
The girls giggled approvingly, and Emelia swallowed the guilt rising in her throat.
---
Later that evening, Arya passed Emelia in the hallway. Their eyes met, and for a flicker of a second, Arya saw her old friend the - the only good friend she has ever had . But then Emelia looked away quickly, her expression shuttered, following after the Ivory Circle.
Arya's chest ached. She wanted to reach out, to ask her what had changed… but the words never came.
And somewhere deep down, she didn't realize that Emelia's small jealousies, her mild digs, weren't born from hatred—but from fear. Fear of losing both her place in the academy's world and the bond they once had.