The academy's halls always carried a certain arrogance, polished marble floors gleaming under enchanted lanterns, portraits of past prodigies looming overhead like silent judges. Normally, students strutted about with their noses high, too busy flaunting family crests to notice anything else.
But lately, their eyes had started to wander.
Not toward the heirs of prestigious houses, but toward me.
I didn't need to try very hard. A smirk here, a passing glance there, an easy word whispered in the right ear—it was enough to make ripples spread. The goddess's blessing worked quietly, like perfume on the wind. They didn't understand why they looked. They just did.
Still, there was one pair of eyes that mattered more than the rest.
Seraphina Graye.
The Golden Lioness herself.
I could feel her presence even now, seated across the lecture hall, posture perfectly straight, platinum hair catching the morning light. She looked as composed as ever, lips pressed thin, a faint scowl etched on her flawless face. To anyone else, she appeared untouchable. Cold. Untamed.
But I knew better.
The faint crease between her brows. The way her quill tapped faster whenever I leaned back lazily in my chair. The stolen glances she thought no one noticed.
She was watching me. Again.
Professor Haldren droned on at the front, reciting formulas of mana flow, but the lecture was a blur of words to most of the class. A handful of diligent students scribbled notes, the rest whispered gossip under their breath.
I leaned back, stretching my arms slightly, making sure my shirt collar slipped just a little lower. Her eyes flickered. She caught herself, snapping back to her notes as though nothing happened.
I smiled.
The cracks in her armor were already showing.
The bell rang, scattering students like startled birds. Desks scraped, chatter filled the air, and I rose slowly, not in a rush like the rest. Lily slipped by my side, clutching her books to her chest, cheeks still faintly pink from the bathhouse incident. She glanced at me for instructions, like a pet waiting for her master's word.
But my attention wasn't on her.
It was on Seraphina.
She packed her things with deliberate slowness, ignoring the gaggle of admirers who tried to get her attention. Every noble boy who dared speak was dismissed with a curt nod or a cold glance. She radiated an aura of superiority, yet I caught it again—the tiniest hesitation when she realized I was watching.
I moved before she could escape.
"Graye," I said smoothly, stepping into her path.
Her eyes met mine, guarded, sharp. "What do you want?"
Her tone was cold, but I didn't miss the faint tremor in her voice. Not fear. Irritation. Unease. Curiosity she couldn't admit.
I leaned a little closer, enough to invade her space without crossing the line. "You've been staring at me all morning. Should I take it as flattery?"
Her jaw tightened. "Don't flatter yourself. I was only wondering how someone like you managed to enter this academy."
I chuckled, letting the sound roll out lazily. "That's funny. Because I was wondering how someone like you keeps pretending she isn't interested."
Her cheeks colored—so faintly most wouldn't notice, but I did. She masked it quickly, straightening her posture until her shadow loomed tall. "Interested? Don't make me laugh. You're an extra. Nothing more."
I tilted my head, pretending to think. "And yet… you keep staring. Almost as if you want me to prove you wrong."
For the briefest second, her composure faltered. Her lips parted, a retort forming, then she shut them quickly and brushed past me.
But not before I saw the flicker of heat in her eyes.
Afternoon came.
The training yard was filled with the clash of steel and the thrum of mana, students practicing under the watch of instructors. I wasn't here to train. Not really. I was here because Seraphina was.
She moved like a dancer, sword flashing in the sunlight, every strike precise and devastating. Admirers watched from the sidelines, whispering in awe. She was a prodigy, after all—the academy's pride. The Golden Lioness.
I leaned casually against a pillar, arms folded, letting my gaze linger openly. She noticed, of course. Her swings grew sharper, more forceful, as though trying to carve my smirk out of the air itself.
When she finally ended her practice, she turned, sweat glistening on her brow, and marched toward me.
"You're following me," she accused.
"Observing," I corrected with a grin. "Can you blame me? You put on quite the show."
Her eyes narrowed, but the faintest flush spread across her neck at the praise. "You're insufferable."
"Maybe. But you haven't walked away."
Her silence was telling.
I stepped closer, lowering my voice so only she could hear. "Tell me something, Seraphina. Do you glare at me because you hate me… or because you can't stop thinking about me?"
Her breath hitched, just slightly. Her hand tightened on her sword hilt. She looked ready to lash out, but instead she spun on her heel, cloak flaring, and stormed off without answering.
I let her go.
Not because she'd won, but because she hadn't. The cracks were widening, and soon enough, she'd fall through.
That night, I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling while Lily curled obediently at my side. She slept soundly, exhaustion softening her delicate features. Her hair spilled over the pillow, her lips slightly parted.
But my mind wasn't on her.
It was on Seraphina.
The way her eyes lingered. The faint tremor in her voice. The flush she tried so hard to hide.
She hated me. Desired me. Denied both truths.
It was delicious.
[System Message: Affection of Seraphina Graye has shifted. Current Status: Conflicted Attraction.]
I smirked in the dark.
The lioness was starting to bare her throat.
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