Lily sat curled up on her couch, the room dim except for the soft glow of the arcanite lamp overhead. A mug of untouched tea sat beside her. Her thoughts buzzed too loudly for sleep, too chaotically for comfort.
She had replayed it all—every conversation, every interaction—with Clayton Antigonus.
And none of it made sense.
He wasn't supposed to be this sharp.
When he first arrived at the Academy, she had him pegged within a day. Wealthy heir, pampered, thrown into Vyrith like most noble brats. Her plan was simple: keep an eye on him, maybe manipulate him into being useful. And if he got attached to her? That worked even better.
She didn't have the luxury of playing clean.
But from the very beginning, he never quite fit the mold. His jokes were too guarded, his answers too neutral. He walked like he didn't trust the ground under his feet, and every time someone got too close—emotionally or strategically—he redirected like a seasoned manipulator.
Still, she thought she had time. He seemed lost, overwhelmed even. Maybe he wasn't a threat—just confused.
Then came Cynthia.
Lily had seen social games played before, but what Clayton did to Cynthia was surgical. He didn't argue. He didn't posture. He let Cynthia dig her own grave, nudged the narrative with subtle social cues, and turned the entire class against her without ever raising his voice.
Cold, Lily thought. Professional.
He hadn't lashed out. He'd managed the situation. Like someone who'd done this before.
Then came the duel with Charles.
That wasn't just a fight—it was a performance.
Clayton baited Charles publicly, weaponized social perception, and placed a massive bet on himself while being viewed as the underdog. He stoked public sympathy, flipped an elite heir's ego against him, then barely scraped a win—enough to look vulnerable while still claiming victory.
And just like that, he was untouchable.
Power, fame, public favor, and even the high-grade arcane stone. Wrapped in one neat bow.
He didn't stumble into any of it.
He orchestrated it.
Her intel had been wrong. So wrong. According to the files, he had no prior combat record, no remarkable strategic achievements—just a quiet heir shuffled from a minor branch of the Antigonus family. He should've been a pawn, or at best a mild nuisance.
Instead, he turned the board upside down and walked away with the queen.
Which meant…
He wasn't just hiding his power. He'd been biding his time.
Waiting until the moment he was ready to move.
And that realization was more terrifying than anything else.
Because people who bide their time aren't fools.
They're dangerous.
Lily ran a hand through her hair, stood up, and reached for her cloak. She needed answers.
Clayton opened the door in a loose shirt, his expression flat but amused.
"If you're here to apologize for spying on me, now's a great time."
"If I were sorry, I wouldn't be here," Lily replied, brushing past him into the apartment.
Clayton raised a brow, letting the door swing shut behind her. "Make yourself at home, I guess. Want some tea? Or a truth serum?"
"Cute." She sat on the edge of his couch, arms crossed. "I'm here because I don't like being blindsided."
"Ah," he said, flopping into his own chair. "So this is a passive-aggressive interrogation?"
"No, this is an aggressive-aggressive interrogation," she corrected. "You're hiding something."
He gave her an exaggerated gasp. "Me? Secrets? In an elite magical academy where everyone wears masks? Unthinkable."
Lily narrowed her eyes. "I've seen people manipulate others before, Clayton. I've done it myself. But you… you play differently."
"I'm flattered," he replied, sipping water. "Is this where you accuse me of being a shadowy mastermind with a tragic backstory?"
"Maybe not tragic," she said, "but calculated? Yes. You knew exactly what you were doing with Cynthia. You knew exactly how Charles would react. You practically wrote the script."
Clayton didn't answer immediately. Instead, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Why does it bother you so much?"
She blinked. "Excuse me?"
"That I'm not a fool," he said. "You had a plan, didn't you? Gain my trust. Get close. Use me."
Her lips parted in protest but she didn't deny it.
He smiled faintly. "Relax. I get it. It's how the game is played."
"And what game are you playing?" she asked. "Because I don't know your angle. That makes you dangerous."
"You think I'm dangerous," he said slowly, "because I didn't let you get to me."
"No," she said. "I think you're dangerous because I couldn't predict you. And I always predict people."
The air between them thickened.
Clayton stood up, crossed to the window, and stared out over the glowing academy spires. "Maybe I'm just a guy trying to survive."
She laughed under her breath. "You're many things, Clayton. But helpless isn't one of them."
He turned back, meeting her gaze. "And what about you, Lily? What are you hiding?"
"That's rich, coming from you."
"I'm serious," he said. "You move like someone trained. You avoid magical scans. You never talk about your past."
"I'm just a girl trying to make her way through an elite school full of maniacs," she said, shrugging.
He grinned. "So we're both liars."
They stood in silence again, this time laced with an odd mutual recognition. Not quite trust. Not quite enmity. Something in between.
"You're going to get yourself killed if you keep playing this recklessly," she said at last.
"I'd rather die playing my own game than survive in someone else's."
"…That's so dramatic it almost sounds cool."
He raised a hand. "I try."
Lily turned toward the door, hesitating.
"I came here because I wanted to know if you were just lucky or dangerous," she said. "Now I know."
"And?"
She opened the door, tossing a smile over her shoulder. "You're annoying. But I think I'm starting to like annoying."
Then she was gone.
Clayton stood alone in the quiet for a moment.
He didn't smile.
But he didn't lock the door behind her either.