("You never know fear until a beautiful woman corners you with questions you don't want to answer.")
---
Detention.
A sacred space of reflection, regret, and exactly zero actual reflecting.
Professor Vael had dropped by earlier in the morning, handed me a note with "For unsanctioned lightning vandalism" scrawled in bold, and disappeared into the ether like some smug shadow mage.
Was I guilty?
Yes.
Was I sorry?
Also yes, but not for the reasons she thought.
Anyway, that's how I ended up scrubbing arcane chalkboards that cleaned themselves as I wiped them.
Magical punishment was truly a joke.
At least until she walked in.
---
The air shifted.
I turned—and there she was.
Selene.
Tall, confident, eyes glowing faintly with electric current like she could sneeze and vaporize a tree. Her uniform was custom-fitted, sleeveless, with a thunder-insignia belt she'd probably won in some blood-soaked duel. Her steps crackled softly on the floor.
"Hey," she said, like we were old friends. Or future corpses.
"…Hey," I replied, already running mental escape routes.
She leaned against the desk across from me, arms crossed, eyebrow raised. "So. Caleb Thorne."
"That's what the record says."
"You're different now."
"Puberty hit late?"
"Cute. Don't get cocky." She tilted her head. "You're not simping anymore. That's new."
I froze for half a second. She caught it.
Damn these waifus and their observational powers.
---
Selene smirked. "Don't worry. I'm not judging. Honestly, the way you stared at Aris like a kicked puppy was tragic."
"Appreciate the trauma recap."
"But now?" she continued. "You're not looking at her like that. You're… looking through her."
That part made me pause.
Was I?
Maybe I was. I didn't see Aris as some ethereal goddess anymore. I saw her as a character. A powerful one, yes, but flawed. Human. Dangerous.
I broke eye contact, pretending to scrub faster. "Why are you here?"
She shrugged. "Got detention for electrifying someone's laundry. But also… curiosity."
She stepped closer.
Way too close.
"You weren't supposed to win that match. You shouldn't even be able to cast. You were a E-rank elemental affinity with garbage stats."
I gave a little smile. "I eat garbage for breakfast now."
"You've changed," she said again, softer this time. "And not just in the magical sense. Like you've become a different person."
My grip on the rag tightened.
She stared at me for a long second, as if trying to peel off my skin and read what was underneath.
Then—
She grinned, winked, and turned away. "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone."
"Tell them what?"
"That the former simp might be something… interesting."
She left in a crackle of ozone.
"See ya~ by the way, love the new look!"
---
I stood there, rag in hand, mind spiraling.
That was not just a conversation. That was a setup.
Selene was sniffing out something deeper—and if she'd noticed, the others wouldn't be far behind.
---
Later that evening, Kip drew a big red circle on our crayon-colored "Plotboard."
"Phase Two has begun," he said dramatically.
"What's Phase Two?" Mint asked.
"Hot girls. Increasing awareness. Suspicion levels at 45% and rising."
Isolde floated a note: 'Prepare false narratives.'
Vox cracked his knuckles. "Should we frame the cactus?"
"No," I said, dead serious. "Greg is sacred. Greg is off-limits."
Greg approved by photosynthesizing harder.
---
But as the Sector Five Misfits planned fake origin stories and defense strategies against incoming waifu intrigue, I couldn't stop thinking about one thing:
Selene looked at me like she knew.
Not who I was. Not yet.
But she sensed it.
I was out of place.
Off-script.
And in a world built on roles and destinies… that was the most dangerous thing to be revealed.