The dorm lights were dim, but neither of them had tried to sleep.
Kael sat on the edge of his bed, unwrapping the tape from his wrists. Levi leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom, arms crossed.
He'd been quiet since they got back from the evaluation.
Now Kael knew why.
"So," Levi said, finally breaking the silence.
"You've been lying to everyone this whole time."
Kael didn't flinch. Just glanced up.
"You were listening."
"You weren't exactly subtle," Levi replied, stepping forward. "The hallway's not soundproof. You and Orwen weren't whispering either."
Kael peeled off the last strip of tape and dropped it into the bin.
"It wasn't a lie. I just didn't tell anyone."
"That's called hiding," Levi said flatly. "Same thing."
Kael stood, grabbing a towel off his bedpost.
"You mad?"
Levi didn't answer at first. He just looked at him — not angry. Just... frustrated.
"No. Not really," he said. "More like... trying to understand."
Kael paused.
Levi moved toward the desk, running a hand through his hair.
"You had a Core this whole time. Weapon Mastery. That's not some background skill. That's... who you are."
"Not all of me," Kael said quietly. "Just a part."
Levi sighed.
"I get wanting to keep things close. But we're not strangers. And you're not alone here anymore."
Kael looked at him for a moment. Then nodded once.
"I know."
Levi gave a half-smile.
"Just don't expect me to go easy on you in tomorrow's test. If I get a higher score, I'm bragging for a week."
Kael smirked faintly.
"Make it two."
Levi laughed, heading toward the bunk.
"Deal."
in the morning at the cafeteria…
Kael sat alone at a table near the window, a small black notebook in one hand, his eyes scanning it slowly. No highlighter chaos. No stress. Just calm review.
A tray dropped beside him.
"I knew it," Levi said, sliding into the seat with a smirk. "You're one of those guys. The quiet ones who memorize the textbook cover to cover, then pretend you didn't study."
Kael didn't look up.
"The chapters weren't that long."
"Sickening," Levi muttered, unwrapping his egg sandwich.
A moment later, another tray landed softly on Kael's other side.
"Morning," Charlotte said, settling into the seat beside him like it was routine.
Levi blinked.
"Since when do you sit—?"
"He has good notes," she said, already sipping from her mug.
Kael arched a brow.
"I never said you could see them."
"You didn't say I couldn't."
Before Levi could make another comment, something small and soft brushed against Kael's leg. He looked down.
A black cat.
Tail curled. Eyes bright. It hopped onto the bench beside him like it belonged there.
"Oh— hey," he said quietly, reaching out.
"Sorry," came a soft voice nearby. "She wanders."
Cyrhelle stood at the edge of their table, book pressed to her chest — a thick book titled WAA Law and Policy.
The cat meowed once, curling tighter against Kael's side.
"She really likes quiet people," Cyrhelle added.
"Guess I passed the test," Kael said.
They shared a small smile.
Levi raised an eyebrow.
"Wait—do you two… know each other?"
"Sort of," Kael replied. "We've talked."
"Not a lot," Cyrhelle said at the same time.
They both glanced at each other — slightly awkward. Charlotte tilted her head, watching the exchange without saying a word.
Levi looked at the book in her hands.
"You're reviewing WAA Law?"
She nodded.
"Mind if I join? I could use a miracle before this test."
Cyrhelle gave a small shrug.
"Sure. If you're okay with quiet."
"I can fake it," Levi grinned.
Just then, David arrived, tray in hand and hair slightly tousled like he ran here half-awake.
He spotted Cyrhelle.
"Oh— hey! You're in my Desyre Ethics class, right?"
She nodded politely.
"David, right?"
"Yeah. Didn't think you remembered."
He took the seat next to Levi, glancing at the book.
"Oof. You guys are serious."
"Some of us need the grade," Charlotte muttered.
Levi leaned back.
"Some of us need divine intervention."
Kael just closed his notebook, flipping it shut.
"Then we better eat fast," he said. "The exam gods wait for no one."
The table fell into easy silence — books open, food half-eaten, nerves buried under small smiles and unspoken focus.