A few hours earlier, at the Academy.
The sun was setting, drenching the Hanging Gardens of the Academy in a blood-red hue.
Ash slammed her locker shut and froze. A soft, clear voice called from behind her:
"Hey."
She turned. Aimer stood before her — arms crossed, posture perfect, gaze cold.
"Oh! It's you, Athey's dear friend. How's life treating the winner today?"
Aimer narrowed her eyes.
"What even is 'Athey'?"
"A cute nickname. We both know how special our mutual friend is," Ash tilted her head slightly, eyes locked on Aimer's. "So I thought… something from the heart."
A brief silence.
"By the way. You two… are you like a thing?"
Aimer exhaled and crossed her arms tighter.
"What do you want from Atheron?"
"Straight to the point," Ash smirked. "Did I do something wrong?"
"Don't play dumb. You smile too much when no one asks, and you're always nearby when he's alone."
Ash paused. Then, slowly, her face curved into a lazy, almost tender smile.
