"Wrong," Rachel's voice, usually as angelic as a spring breeze, cracked through the room like a whip. She pointed a perfectly manicured finger at my tablet, her expression the picture of academic indignation.
"How?" I asked, glancing down at the glowing equations on the screen. To me, they looked fine—brilliant, even. But Rachel's furrowed brows and the intensity in her stormy eyes suggested otherwise.
She jabbed the screen again, her gesture sharper this time, as if sheer force might drill the answer into my skull. "Think, Arthur. What's missing?"
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Rachel, this really isn't working," I said, turning to meet her glare.
"Arthur," she exhaled, exasperation practically radiating from her, "it's not that complex. You messed up the anchoring here. Without it, your spell collapses the moment you channel mana."
Her finger traced a symbol on the screen—an anchoring matrix that, to my untrained eyes, seemed unnecessarily convoluted. I frowned and pointed to a nearby equation. "I did put the anchors! Right there!"
Her eyes narrowed, her tone uncompromising. "It's wrong."
Rachel's sharpness was tempered only by the knowledge that she wasn't entirely wrong to be frustrated. I'd enlisted her help in learning the Fuller method, a cornerstone of seven-circle magic. She was an academic genius, and unlike me, her struggle lay in her mana rank rather than the method itself. She breezed through the theoretical aspects while I floundered in the mathematical weeds.
But as the old saying went, geniuses didn't always make the best teachers. And this was a prime example. Still, her help was better than struggling alone in the labyrinth of calculations.
"Arthur," Rachel said, her voice softening as a mischievous grin tugged at her lips. "This is the last question. Solve this one, and then…" She paused dramatically, curling her fingers into a heart over her chest and winking at me. "…we can have some fun."
Heat crept up my cheeks. "Great," I muttered under my breath. "Now I'm thinking about that instead of the math."
Rachel laughed, a sound like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. "Focus, Arthur! If you can fight Ascendant-rankers, you can handle one little equation."
Her teasing grin lingered as I turned back to the screen, my mind a tangled mess of anchoring matrices, magical theory, and Rachel's infuriatingly charming antics. As much as she made studying a trial, I couldn't deny the spark of motivation she brought to even the dullest calculations.
"Alright," I said, picking up my stylus with renewed determination. "Let's solve this."
It took twenty more minutes of painful, mind-numbing effort, but I finally cracked the equation. "Finally," I muttered, shutting off my tablet with a dramatic flourish and tossing it onto the nearby couch. I turned to Rachel, expecting some kind of congratulatory remark.
"Aw, did I turn you on?" Rachel giggled, twirling a strand of her golden hair between her fingers. Her sapphire eyes sparkled mischievously, and the faint flush on her cheeks only added to her charm.
"Honestly, the amount of teasing you've done…" I began, my exasperation battling against the grin tugging at my lips.
"Don't blame me," she replied, her tone light as she placed a hand on her chest. "I'm just in love with you."
Her words hit like a sunbeam piercing through storm clouds. That smile of hers—radiant and unapologetically genuine—made my heart skip a beat, and I could feel the flush rising to my own cheeks. Rachel's teasing was subtle compared to Cecilia's overt flirtation, but the sheer brightness of her personality made it impossible to resist.
And, well, she was stunning.
"Anyway," she said, her grin turning impish, "I'm not in the mood now. Hehe."
I blinked, thrown off balance by her sudden about-face. "Wait, what? After all that teasing?"
Rachel's cheeks dimpled as she feigned innocence. "What? I can't be comfortable around you?"
My eyes flicked to her outfit—a crop top and a skirt. It wasn't like Rachel's usual style. She was almost always in elegant one-piece dresses, even casually like a sundress or t-shirts that didn't show much skin. Seeing her in something more casual—and frankly more like Cecilia—was unexpected, to say the least.
"I didn't even know you owned clothes like that," I said honestly.
Rachel's laughter was light and lilting, like bells chiming in a gentle breeze. "Arthur, I'm a princess, not a statue. Of course, I have other clothes, dummy."
Her teasing tone only made the moment more surreal. She could go from serene elegance to playful mischief in the blink of an eye, and I wasn't sure if it was endearing or infuriating—or both.
"Well," I said, a smirk creeping onto my face, "you get this for teasing me." Without giving her a chance to respond, I reached out and grabbed her hand, interlocking my fingers with hers. Then, with a quick tug, I pulled her toward me.
Rachel let out a surprised giggle as she stumbled into my arms. "Arthur!" she said, her tone half-scolding, half-delighted.
Her laughter softened as she looked up at me, her sapphire eyes meeting mine. For a moment, the teasing melted away, leaving only the warmth between us.
"You're impossible," she murmured, her voice quieter now but no less vibrant.
"And you love it," I replied with a grin, holding her a little tighter.
Rachel laughed again, the sound filling the room with its warmth. And in that moment, with her golden hair catching the light and her fingers intertwined with mine, it was impossible not to think that teasing or not, she was right. I wouldn't have it any other way.
After some "fun", we returned to studying. Rachel leaned against my shoulder, her golden hair brushing my cheek as her sapphire eyes scanned the tablet in front of us.
"Rach, if you're tired, just go back," I said gently, glancing down at her.
She tilted her head up, giving me a look that was somehow equal parts accusatory and amused. "And whose fault is that, you beast?" she quipped, her voice dripping with mock outrage.
I gulped—not because her tone was threatening, but because of how she looked at that moment. Her expression was playful, but the way the light caught her features left me momentarily speechless.
She caught the shift in my expression immediately, of course. Her eyes narrowed in amusement, a teasing glint flashing across them. "You're so horny," she declared, her tone dry but clearly enjoying my discomfort.
"Please," I said, throwing up my hands in mock surrender, my voice exasperated. Rachel's laughter bubbled up, light and melodic, as she stood and stretched, raising her arms over her head. The movement was casual, but somehow it felt like she'd planned it for maximum effect.
She yawned, her energy finally ebbing. "Okay," she said, stifling another yawn, "I'll go sleep now. Before you get… more excited." Her lips curved into a grin as she delivered the line with precision, leaving me shaking my head.
"See you tomorrow, Arthur," she added, her voice softer now, the teasing edge replaced by warmth.
"See you, Rach," I replied as she nodded sleepily, her movements slow and relaxed as she left the room.
Since we shared the same dormitory floor, her room was just down the hall. As the door slid shut behind her, I let out a quiet sigh, shaking my head. Rachel had an uncanny ability to leave a whirlwind in her wake, whether through teasing, laughter, or moments of quiet affection.